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[kayincolwyn]

Peace On Earth, Good Will Toward Men? (Christmas Eve reflection, 2023)

It's Christmas Eve again, when I usually try to write some kind of reflection, though I admit that it's difficult to know what to say, what to write about, this time around.

I've had a lot on my mind lately, especially about the nature of reality itself and our consciousness as human beings, which I hope to write about more in depth in a post later on, yet while I believe those questions I've been wrestling with (and have wrestled with throughout my life) are really important, important to all of us as we search for meaning and purpose in our lives, still I am aware that not all of us have the mental and emotional bandwidth to dig so deep into such questions regularly when we are just trying to live and survive from day to day, or when so much is going on around us that is distracting us or overwhelming us so much that we don't always have the luxury of focusing or slowing down enough to really wonder about, for example, why any of us are even here to begin with.

When it feels as though coming into this world for all of us (and for some of us more than others) is like being thrown into the deep end of the pool and then essentially being told to 'sink or swim', is it any wonder that many of us would more often than not be more focused on trying to keep our heads above that water rather then wondering what the water is, or even what we are or why we're in the water?

So I think what I wanted to write about was just how hard it can be sometimes to believe that this world that we find ourselves in is, well, worth living in, or how hard it can be to believe that things that we talk about during this time of year, like hope and peace and joy and love, can be found or held onto in a world that often seems so full of despair and conflict and sorrow and fear.

I think about people in my own life who have experienced almost constant struggle and grief in recent times, people who seem to have one crisis after another and just can't seem to catch a break, and they don't really know why exactly, and I don't either, and all I know is that they don't deserve it, or don't believe they do.

I think of the many people in the world who are even struggling to find simple things like food and clothing and shelter and medicine, or who feel very much alone and forgotten and as though they really have no one to turn to for love and support.

I think of all the people in war torn countries around the globe, in conflicts such as those between Israel and Palestine or between Russia and Ukraine which we all hear reported about in the news regularly, as well as the conflicts in places like Africa that we don't hear about as much but are still ongoing.

I think of all the sick and the dying, or those struggling with mental illness or trauma, or those who have lost loved ones or jobs or homes or even themselves.

I think of all of us with our day to day struggles and worries which we all may carry and regardless of our circumstances or station in life, because to one degree or another simply being human is hard, simply being in this world is hard.

These last few years have been especially tumultuous for much of our world, what with political upheaval and a grueling global pandemic and climate change and a struggling global economy and widespread division and war, and the growing anxiety and fear and uncertainty and just malaise around all of it.

It's a lot to process, and while I wouldn't say that I'm indifferent to all of it I confess that I often feel numb and try to detach myself from all of it just to be able to try and live my life and function in the day to day, which I imagine many of us are doing to some degree or another, although others may cope by throwing themselves into addressing one or more of these crises, trying to do what they can to solve them, though of course none of us can do that alone.

I try to do my part, in little things like voting, or getting my vaccines to help keep from spreading viruses like Covid, or recycling regularly, or helping out family or friends financially when they need it and when I can, or occasionally donating to charities, or that sort of thing, but I know there are others who do far more than me, who expend more time and energy, who sacrifice more, to try and make the world a better place, and perhaps they are better humans than I am, more loving or more giving, and there may be no way around that… but I try, and I suppose that's all any of us can do.

And another question I find myself asking sometimes is, well, do we deserve this, or have we brought this on ourselves?

I had said above that I don't believe the people in my life who are really struggling deserve it, and I still don't really think that because I love them and don't think they are bad people who have it coming to them so to speak, but even they would admit that some or even much of what they're going through is at least in part due to their own choices.

And it's humans that have voted for or supported or allowed poor leadership and their poor decisions in our governments; it's humans that allowed or enabled the spread of Covid by not being more careful or by being less considerate of other humans around them; it's humans who have largely pushed climate change through their own thoughtless and at times callous mistreatment of the natural world; it's humans that have been selfish and greedy and have hoarded wealth so their fellow humans have suffered; it's humans who have decided to fight and kill one another rather than trying to work out their problems diplomatically or to work towards peace; it's humans that make choices that may, whether intentionally or unintentionally, lead to their own suffering, or to the suffering of others, or of the world they live in.

Now I know that our world is endlessly complicated, including (or even especially) the human world, and there are over 8 billion unique individual humans on our planet so it's not surprising that our accumulated choices, be they thoughtful or thoughtless, selfish or selfless, kind or cruel, and everywhere in between… and with each and every individual being a mix of different kinds of choices throughout their lives, as they intersect with other humans who are also making a mix of different kinds of choices throughout their lives… that all of this, this mess of humanity, would make for a such complex and entangled web.

And with that in mind I know the issue of blame is also complicated, and there are also systems at work which humans have created and have given power to (perhaps unwisely) that run seemingly of their own accord and are far from perfect, so I know it's not always down to someone's individual choice alone being the cause of their suffering, and I don't believe it would be be fair or right to place that level of blame on the average person.

But that said the question remains… do we deserve this, or have we brought this on ourselves?

As to the first question, I'm not really sure if I can answer that or judge that, but can only say that on a personal level I feel there are some who are more deserving of their suffering than others, and some not at all, but then again who am I to judge in the end?

As to the second question, at least to some degree, or even a large degree, as a collective, yes, unequivocally yes, we have brought so much of this on ourselves, and I don't think many could argue against that if they were really honest about it, that we humans really create most of our own problems for ourselves or one another or in this world around us.

And having this knowledge in mind can make it even harder, going back to what I said in the beginning, to believe that this world is worth living in, or that there are things worth finding and holding onto in it, when we ourselves appear to be the source and cause of so much of the despair and conflict and sorrow and fear in the world.

Do we even deserve to exist here, or should we even be here at all, when collectively we often seem to do such a bad job of it, and so often seem to make what could be a heaven into a hell?

I know these are difficult (not to mention depressing) questions to ask around Christmastime, which as some may say is supposed to be the happiest time of the year (although for many it may in fact be quite the opposite), and yet I feel it's important to be honest and real here if I'm even going to attempt to address any of this in any kind of meaningful way.

I have titled this post Peace On Earth, Good Will Toward Men? because I guess that's the question that I'm asking here, is if we can ever have peace on earth, or if we even really deserve such good will towards us, whether from God (if there is even any God at all, which I still hope is the case), from one another, or even from ourselves… can we, and do we?

Again, I honestly don't know for sure, and I can't really judge that, or at least not in any comprehensive or complete way, because I only have my own limited observation and experience to go on.

I suppose that may be disappointing to hear, but like I said I can only see things from my own limited perspective… but that doesn't mean that I can't at least try to give some kind of answer.

Maybe I can't say what I know for sure, but I can say what I feel, and what I have hope in and for, and maybe that is something, and really at the end of the day may be all we have to go on when we may know so little for sure.

I can say that I feel, and have found some hope in, seeing and experiencing positive things such as hope and peace and joy and love among humans, and humans fighting against and working towards alleviating negative things such as despair and conflict and sorrow and fear, and in knowing that while darkness may exist in the hearts of men, light does too.

I can say that the people in my life who struggle constantly also find things to continue to live for and that keep them going, and in spite of myself and all of my faults and flaws perhaps my presence in their lives is one of those things, just as their presence in my life is something that helps me to keep living and to keep going.

I can say that there are those who feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the houseless, and treat the sick, and those who try to be there for those who feel alone, try to remember those who are forgotten, and try to be there for those who feel like they have no one.

I can say that there are those who are fighting for and working towards peace, those who would rather forgive than seek vengeance, those who would rather offer a hand than raise a sword, those who would rather shed tears for their fellow humans than shed their blood.

I can say that there are those who hold the hands of the dying, that there are healers who seek to treat wounds both outside and in, that there are those who seek to give back what others have lost in whatever ways they can, or seek to heal or give back to this world, whether the human world or natural world, in whatever way they can.

I can say that humans can be as thoughtful as they can be thoughtless, can be as selfless as they can be selfish, can be as kind as they can be cruel, and that as hard as being human may be they can still try to make the best of it and not only for themselves but for others and the world, that that choice is always before them and even in spite of their many faults and flaws they can still sometimes get it right, that we can still get it right.

Humans are also curious and creative, full of wonder and potential, and collectively, even against seemingly insurmountable odds, they may yet persevere and not give up.

It's for these reasons that I have hope, hope that maybe there can be peace, hope that maybe there can be joy, hope that there is love, in the world.

This is what I feel, from my own observation and experience, and again I may not really know for sure, but this is what I have to hold onto, the light that I believe exists in me and in all of us, and even in spite of the darkness that also exists in me and in all of us, as well as the hope that there is some greater reason for our being here, for our being in this water that we find ourselves sinking or swimming in, that there is some deeper meaning or purpose for all of this that we may understand in the end, and may even make it all worth it.

So can there can be peace on earth, and should there be good will towards men? I hope so… maybe… or at least I believe it's possible.

And what do I hope for?

I hope the world can be a better place, even if only little by little, one step at a time.

I hope that the people in my life can get a break from the constant struggle, or if not will find reasons to keep living and keep going.

I hope that the have nots will have more and that those who feel alone will find that they're not.

I hope that there will be an end to all of the hate and the war that threatens to tear our world apart, and that we perhaps could grow more skilled at helping one another than hurting one another.

I hope that all that is lost will be found again, in one way or another, today or tomorrow, but somehow, and someday.

I hope that the light within us will prove stronger than the darkness within us, like the warm lights of Christmas shining in the cold winter night.

And I hope that in spite of everything, everything going on in our lives and all around us, that we may yet find, and find reasons for, hope, peace, joy, and love in this holiday season, and in the new year to come, and beyond.

Merry Christmas to you all, and may there be peace on Earth, and good will toward men.

[kayincolwyn]

Christmas Eve reflection (December 24th, 2022)

It's Christmas Eve again, with another year come and almost gone, and another winter darkening the days as the world awaits the promise of spring.

As I write this, most of the country is frozen over due to a massive winter storm. I know that my family and I have been lucky, as we still have power and are warm and comfortable inside, insulated from the cold, and since we mostly celebrate here at home for the holidays anyway it doesn't really effect our holiday plans. But I know that many others aren't so lucky, being without power or even being without a home, or having their holiday plans ruined or not even having any plans really to begin with because they have no one to celebrate the holidays with.

I'm grateful for having what I have now, for light and heat to hold back the dark and cold of winter, for having a place to call home, and for family and friends that I can connect and celebrate the holidays with and who remind me that I'm not alone, and especially when I think about how not everyone has what I have.

While there have certainly been times in my life when I've been without light and heat, or have felt very much alone, so can empathize on some level with those who are struggling right now, still I know that right now I'm pretty fortunate to have what I have.

That all said and in that context, I wanted to try to share some things that are on my mind this Christmas Eve.

In reflections in past years I've talked about what Christmas means to me, and it's hard to think of anything original to say, and likely the best I can do is try to find new ways of expressing the same old themes that still resonate with me, but I suppose sticking with what resonates with me, instead of just trying to be novel for novelty's sake, is probably for the best anyway.

Predictability may be a little boring, but consistency has its merits I suppose. :) But then again I may have a few 'novel' things to say (and hopefully I don't write a 'novel' in the process... but I can't make any promises there).

Anyway, as I've said before in past reflections I no longer identify as a Christian, or at least not in any traditional sense, so I don't, and can't really, celebrate Christmas in that context, even if I still call the holiday 'Christmas' out of habit I guess and because it's nostalgic for me and kind of has a nice ring to it, at least to me.

And having just turned 40 this past September, and moving towards middle age now, I am thinking even more about how I really want to be true to myself, to not just go along with the crowd or what I'm told to think or feel or believe, to be true to what's really in my heart, even if like many others I'm still trying to figure out what is true to me, and what really is in my heart.

For an example of this, and as a way of stepping into things, there is this controversial book that I recently ran across and read called The Pagan Christ by Tom Harpur, where the late author (who passed away in 2017), a former Anglican priest who began to deconstruct his faith in many ways (something I can very much relate to) argues that Jesus Christ is a mythical figure, having many parallels with other mythical figures such as Horus, Osiris, Dionysus, Balder, Mithras, and many others through history and throughout the world, and has deep roots in pagan beliefs and practices, which he believes very much inspired those who helped to formulate the 'mythos' of Christ, and he also argues that the church, and most especially after Emperor Constantine made Christianity the state religion of Rome (thus corrupting it by mixing church and state which I think it is safe to say is probably a bad idea going by much of history), suppressed and stamped out any connection with its 'pagan' origins as well as more mystical and non-literal interpretations (and in their view 'heretical') of the faith, and he even goes so far as to argue that Jesus wasn't an actual historical figure as most would assume, and even that many in the early church, before it was corrupted by authoritarian dogma, did not see Jesus in that way, and that all or most of the stories we find in the gospels and throughout scripture (which according to Harpur was also compiled and edited by very human powers that had their own, and not always very noble, ulterior motives and aims) were never really meant to be taken literally until the church pushed that narrative because interpreting them in the way they were meant to be interpreted, that is allegorically and mystically rather than historically and literally, would have given the masses too much knowledge and understanding (and we can't have that, can we?)

So I've heard here and there that he's been mostly debunked in his claims (like on Wikipedia for example, but then Wikipedia isn't really the most unbiased source of information to be fair, especially when it comes to certain things), although it appears that the majority of those debunking him are evangelical or other 'traditional' religious scholars (speaking of bias) which comes as little surprise to me I admit.

Anyway I'm honestly not sure what to make of everything he has to say (including his questioning whether Christ ever existed, though there is a valid argument to be made there in my opinion), but I do admit that much of it was thought provoking and a lot of it made sense to me from other things I've read and looked into and what I've experienced myself, but I think what really compelled me most about what he had to say was the underlying message or truth that he believed all of these different stories and mythos, including the Christ story and mythos, are pointing to, and what all of those who formulated those myths (many of them mystics who had visionary experiences from what I understand) were trying to get at through these stories they told through the archetypes and narratives of their own cultures.

He says that the key message in all of these stories, including the story of Christ, is that the divine is within humanity, within each of us, like a spark, and there is some deeper purpose to living our lives on this Earth as human beings, with all of its sufferings and struggles and hopes and joys, a life where we learn and grow as much as we can, love and give as much as we can, find and create as much meaning as we can, and maybe there is something about our being born here and living out our limited number of days here until we inevitably die (but then rising again, much like Christ and many other figures in myth and religion, as there is no true death because energy, or consciousness, cannot be destroyed but can only change form), living our own stories opening chapter to closing chapter, that truly matters, and more than we can possibly imagine.

In a way it is as though God, or whatever we may call the divine, the author if you will, lives through us, experiences our stories through us, and our souls learn or grow or are enriched by the experience, and perhaps even God or the divine is as well, and maybe on some deep level we all know that things like love and connection and creativity and understanding are things that are worth pursuing because they give life meaning, like a kind of order in chaos or a light in the darkness, and maybe that is the nature of God and the divine and thus our nature (although chaos and darkness have their part to play in this whole thing as well).

Now I admit that I no longer really see God, or don't really lean towards seeing God, as some personal deity who's hanging out in some other dimension overseeing everything, but more so (at least when I find myself thinking about God as a possibility) as some kind of collective consciousness that all of us and all of the universe is part of and connected to, the collective soul of the universe if you will, so maybe the experience of the individual can somehow enrich the collective whole, and vice versa, and maybe through evolution that collective consciousness has moved from just survival towards some higher purpose that no individual could fully grasp let alone articulate. Of course I don't know for sure, but it's something that I wonder about anyway.

I've also been dabbling a bit in metaphysical idealism (the philosophical position that thought is central to the nature of reality, which more or less is what is found in much of religion and spirituality, like Hinduism which sees the world as 'Maya' or illusion), which is the opposite of metaphysical materialism (the philosophical position that matter is central to the nature of reality, which is the predominant position in much of science, though not all scientists hold that position, and there is a growing number of them that are pushing against it), which is thought provoking especially in light of recent discoveries in quantum physics that seem to point to our world and universe being mostly or even entirely 'illusion' or only 'solid' in our perceptions (which at least in my opinion opens the way for thought, or consciousness, being central as opposed to matter), as well as being curious about archetypes and myth and dreams and consciousness, and of course my lifelong interest in the paranormal and strange experiences (the book Daimonic Reality by Patrick Harpur [another Harpur if you noticed, and yes I read them back to back ;)], was very interesting in regard to all of this), most especially my own, and how those tie in with all of this, with the nature of reality itself.

Now I realize that some, if not many, may not be able to relate to what I'm talking about here, or may disagree with what I've been thinking about and exploring or may even think it's dumb or crazy or whatever, but I can only respectfully say that, well, this is my life and my journey, and you do you and let me do me, and I sincerely hope even if we disagree that we can maybe find some common ground here and there (and having friends who I know do disagree with me on this or that but whom I still appreciate and value I know this is possible).

But I admit that even though I have a desire to be diplomatic and get along with everyone that there is some part of me that has, well, a piss off attitude towards those who may think less of me for following my own path because it isn't theirs (although I know that I shouldn't judge too harshly as I have at times thought less of those who were on a different path from mine, but I digress... and there I go trying to be diplomatic again).

Not sure if I've shared this story before (probably have knowing me) but I'm reminded of this experience I had as a boy, when I was still in elementary school. My dad brought home this Virgo medallion he found which I thought was pretty cool, and for whatever reason I was drawn to it, and was drawn to Virgo (which happens to be my Zodiac sign), this goddess in Roman Mythology, who I read about and found out was known as Astraea in Greek mythology, who was known as the Star Goddess or Star Maiden, and apparently was the last of the gods or goddesses to leave the Earth (which now reminds me a bit of Galadriel in Lord Of The Rings in that way, if we're comparing the elves to the Greco Roman pantheon) and thus represents hope in a way, hope remaining till the end (and also hope returning, as there was a promise that she would), which for whatever reason as a boy I found beautiful and compelling.

I wore this medallion for a little while at school, and you could say that very briefly and simply it was kind of my own little private religion or spirituality (although I imagine in the past that Virgo/Astraea had many followers, and may still have some for all that I know) but when other children began to make fun of me for it (as they do) I quickly stopped wearing it and kind of forgot about it.

In the same way I was drawn to mythology in general, as well as the paranormal and the metaphysical and strange and otherworldly experiences that people have, wondering what they might imply about the nature of reality, ever since I was a boy, but then would put them off or try to distance myself from them either when I was an atheist in my teens and was listening to materialist scientists who devalued or mocked such things or when I was a Christian in my twenties and was listening to fundamentalist theologians warning against such things because they were, in their opinion, idolatrous or demonic or some such thing.

But I believe I've come to a place now, turning 40 and looking ahead, where I am not so afraid to be myself, to do me I guess, and to not put up with the, well, to put it bluntly, bullshit of others pushing their worldviews on me and expecting me to conform to them and setting aside what I'm really drawn to or really resonates with me just to fit in with those around me and to get them to like me.

So while I can still appreciate and value those who disagree with me, and can agree to disagree, I guess I'm at the point in my life where I will just no longer accept being pushed or bullied or cajoled or browbeaten into following any path other than my own, even paths that are backed by the weight of authority or the weight of tradition, because I am tired of not being true to myself, to my own heart and what resonates most deeply with me, and most especially those things that resonated with me even as a child when I was being guided by my inner compass rather than being pressured by the outside forces of society and culture.

So what does all of this have to do with Christmas, and what it means to me now?

Well, as I've said before, I've always resonated with the idea of light in the dark, which is much of what Christmas is about in my opinion, light in a dark time, warmth in the cold, life in a time of death, which symbolically is like the seed of spring in winter, waiting to blossom when the sun returns.

It is hope in other words, like Virgo/Astraea holding on till the end, and even in leaving promising to return.

As a poet I often think in symbols, and see patterns in things, and wonder what the deeper meaning may be behind things and try to tap into it, and express it, if I can. Granted, I'm tired and distracted as much as anyone else so I often miss things or pass them over or forget them, and sometimes I feel lost and aimless, but there are those moments where I become aware of how rich the world can be in meaning, and I can sense a reality beyond our surface perceptions, that there is more going on than what we can see or sense with our five sense, and I have always wondered about that in the back of my mind.

When I think of Virgo/Astraea, or think of dreams that I've had like a woman embracing me as a child near the ocean or a little girl running in a field and turning to tell me to not give up, or when I think of those moments in my life where I felt as though things lined up, synchronicities, or when I think of those stories, or yes myths, that held more truth in them than any fact, if you get my meaning, that touched a cord in me like a memory, as though they made me remember something that I had already known somehow, or when I think of art or music that touch their own cords, or the moments or connections with others that touch other cords, it's like they're all pointing me towards something that even being someone who fancies himself a poet that is really difficult to find words for or articulate fully.

But these things give me hope, and are like light in the darkness, like warmth in the cold, like life in the midst of death, for me.

That all said, going back to where I started, I know that I say all this, ramble about all these philosophical things and my changing worldview and journey in trying to find meaning in this sometimes wild and crazy world, from the comfort of my own home and with people in my life that care about me, and from a place of, well, privilege, and again I know I have much to be grateful for, and also I know that it's not so easy for many people out there to take time to think, or rethink, their life or their reality, to deconstruct things, because they're just trying to survive and get through it, and it's not always so easy to find meaning or hope or light or warmth in this world, and it certainly seems to be harder for some to do that than others, and I know that's not fair or just.

From what I've read Virgo/Astraea was also considered a goddess of justice, and one cannot have hope without also wanting justice I think, because justice is, at least in my view, a balancing of the scales, making things equal and fair, and if we're all connected on some deep level, part of some collective consciousness or the divine, then if any of us are lacking or hurting or lost then on some level aren't all of us?

If we live in a world that is mostly or completely illusion and the real world, whatever it is, is somehow within us, within our mind or 'soul' (or whatever we may call it) like a shared 'dream' that is more real than our 'waking' world, and if all of our stories and myths, and our gods and goddesses, including Christ, are simply (or maybe not so simply) representations of deeper truths about who and what we are and could be and what our lives are all about, then what does that mean for our day to day lives in this world we find ourselves in?

From what I've read and experienced all I can say is that the consensus seems to be that even if this is mostly or completely an illusion, and even if what we thought we should take literally should actually be taken symbolically and that holds deeper truth ultimately, still this world we find ourselves in, this 'physical' or 'solid' world (or at least it is from our perspective) matters and is truly important and shouldn't be taken lightly (well, some levity is always welcome but you get what I mean).

I confess, as I have confessed many times before because it's still something that weighs on me, that I don't feel like I'm really great at living or loving or being here much of the time, like I fall short in many ways or could be better than I am.

If this is a story I'm not sure if I'm the best character in it, if this is a game then I'm not sure if I'm the best player.

In this year alone, and in the 40 years of my life thus far, I feel like I've let people down, have hurt and disappointed others, and have even let myself down, have hurt and disappointed myself, and there are things that I regret and wish I could have done or said or even thought better. But what has happened has happened, what was chosen has been chosen, and I have been who I have been and I am who I am now, and all I can do is try to make the best of it and move forward as best I can and keep trying and as that little girl in the dream said, don't give up.

But I have tried, and hope that at times I have succeeded, in being there for others, and even being there for myself, and I hope that I have learned and grown some, that I have loved and given some, that I have found some meaning, and been able to offer it too.

I hope that in my small way that I have been able to give hope and light and warmth here and there, just as I have been to find it here and there.

And I hope that all of us can find more hope and light and warmth in this time, or if not now then someday, because to me that is what Christmas, or this winter season, or really life, is, or really should be, about, finding and offering hope and light and warmth wherever we can, and even if we really struggle or have a hard time doing that.

So I write this and put this out there in the ether as my lucky and fortunate and Virgo/Astraea/hope loving and decidedly weird and definitely flawed and fallible self, hoping that others will take something from all my meandering and philosophizing and in my trying to find meaning where I can and following my own path (and hopefully we can agree to disagree if that's necessary and find common ground if that's possible).

I hope that you can take something from this as you seek your own meaning and follow your own path, and hope that in this Christmas and winter season and in the new year ahead and your life here in this wild and crazy world that you can find and offer hope and light and warmth wherever you can, because isn't that what life is all about?

I don't know for sure but that's what I'm thinking and feeling about it.

Thank you for taking the time to read my (novel) novel, and a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you. :)

[kayincolwyn]

An Ember Of Magic (Christmas Eve reflection, 12-24-2021)

It's Christmas Eve again, and here I am again trying to find something to say about the holiday...

I guess I can start by saying that I remember when I was a child, back in the now long ago 80s and early 90s (okay I'm old, but not that old), being so excited for Christmas, and loving the anticipation of it, with all of the festive decorations and lights and carols and just the ambience and wonder of it all.

I remember watching my dad putting up strands of lights outside and paper bows on the walls and my mom lovingly decorating the Christmas tree, and watching Christmas movies on TV or VHS like A Christmas Story, Home Alone, and the George C. Scott Christmas Carol (and sure, you can throw Lethal Weapon and Die Hard in there too).

I even remember believing in Santa Claus, and writing him long lists of toys or games that I wanted (i.e. I can recall asking for Godzilla toys, which is kind of funny as I am currently wearing a Christmas themed Godzilla shirt that my wife Kaylyn got me as a Christmas Eve gift), believing there was this magical being of good will that delivered gifts to boys and girls around the world, and I still remember being disappointed when I finally discovered that it was just my parents, or other well meaning adults, who were no doubt a little harried and doing their best to try and give me and my sister some joy by way of the Christmas holiday, that were responsible for all the gifts that I received (although I was perhaps also a little relieved as Santa, in spite of his potentially bearing gifts, scared me a little, and even to the point of having him menacingly peer through my two story window and stare at me during a nightmare... and yeah I know, yikes).

But Santa or no Santa, during my childhood Christmas Day was the most magical day of the year, the most magical time of the year, and even when my dad was cranky or when my mom was anxious and even if I didn't always get what I wanted... and looking back now, and even knowing that my childhood wasn't perfect, and that I was really this lonely and awkward and kind of weird kid who had trouble fitting in and got picked on a lot at school, and even knowing that Christmas didn't, and couldn't, change that fact, I still remember it feeling magical somehow, and beyond just the promise of presents under the tree (though that was certainly part of it, ain't gonna lie).

As the years have gone by and I've gotten older though I'll admit that this time of year, that Christmas, has lost some of (if not all of) it's luster for me, what with becoming more aware of the blatant commercialism of the holiday (as is often the case in life, unfortunately, it's all about the money honey) and then how traditions are taken from here and there and how it's kind of this melting pot of ideas and symbols that we've all collectively kind of thrown together (and how there are various other winter time holidays that people celebrate as well, such as Hanukkah, Yule, Kwanzaa, and yes even Festivus for the rest of us), with different variations throughout the world, and then also becoming aware of its religious subtext (with the Nativity story with Jesus and Mary and Joseph and wise men and shepherds and angels and all of that) when I took on the worldview of Christianity in my late teens and throughout most of my twenties, and then defining the holiday through that mostly religious lenses during that time, and now, having largely let go of that worldview in my thirties, and also understanding just how complicated and multifaceted the holiday is, as well as how we all may experience it differently, I find myself wondering what this time of year means to me.

In my blog post on Christmas Eve last year I talked about light in the darkness, about Christmas Eve services in church where we would hold up candles in the dark, and how meaningful that was for me, and still is on at least some level, and that in a way that's what Christmas was about for me, finding light in the dark.

I suppose everything I said a year ago may still apply, that we need to try to find whatever light we can find in a world that can feel very dark indeed sometimes, but then two long years into this worldwide pandemic and with all the problems our country and our world still face, along with every individual struggle and burden we bear, sometimes it can feel like too much, like it's impossible to find any light in the darkness, or at least light enough to beat the darkness back, and it can sometimes feel as if there is any hope or peace or joy or love in this world that maybe it's something but it's still just not enough, not enough to resolve our struggles or lift our burdens, or to heal our wounds, let alone heal this country or this world.

And I don't know, maybe it isn't enough, and maybe it's just childish sentimentality or naïve idealism to think that such healing is even possible, that we can overcome this pandemic or other universal problems that effect so many of us like tribalism or inequality of all kinds or mental illness or climate change, that we can each of us make it through and be okay, and maybe it's foolish to try to look for reasons to smile or laugh (or joke, as I have tried to do here in this post a few times) in times like these when so many are struggling and hurting and grieving and feel so alone, silly to search for hope or peace or joy or love or light in a world that oftentimes doesn't seem to have nearly enough of it or as much as we need of it so things can be as, deep down, we know they should be or could be.

Maybe, I don't know, and I don't know exactly why things are as they are for this country or this world or for any of us as individuals, why life, well, just sucks sometimes, and especially in a time of year like this which many of us remember being magical but now isn't so much as it was, if it is at all anymore, or ever was, or is now even like a knife twisted in the heart for those who have no cause, or heart, to celebrate.

Now I know that tomorrow I will more likely than not awake on Christmas Day in a warm bed and can look forward to opening gifts again with family, as I have for nearly 40 years now, and I am grateful for that as I know that many will awake tomorrow cold or alone or with no gifts at all to look forward to or to a world full of more darkness than light at least for them, and I admit this is a fact I try not to dwell on too much as the enormity of it all is too heavy for me to carry, but it is a fact I don't want to ignore either.

What can I say to that though, and with that knowledge in the back of my mind, how the world is a kind of a mess right now in a lot of ways (and maybe always has been) and how there are so many for whom hope and peace and joy and love and light seem like distant dreams at best, how can I respond to that?

Honestly I'm not sure, and don't have any original or profound answers here, but can only say that in my own life there have been times when I've struggled, grieved, felt lost or alone in the dark without any light to hold onto or see my way by, or at least I've experienced enough of that at times to have some understanding of how hard it can be to be human or be in this world, so on some level I get it I think, get how shitty life can be, and by extension how shitty holidays like Christmas can be because things like that remind us more of what we don't have or what we've lost.

But aside from that I'll admit that, at least for me, it's also because I'm kind of stubborn, and don't care too much if I'm seen as sentimental or naïve by some out there, because there is this part of me, and maybe it's the part of me that still believes in magic in spite of everything and in spite of the passage of time, believes that beyond all the commercialism and the religious dogma surrounding Christmas that there is something worth considering, that all the decorations and lights and carols and ambience and Santa and baby Jesus and Christmas and all of our winter holidays and traditions are pointing towards something that may be, or at least could be, meaningful and true, and insists that there can be more hope, more peace, more joy, more love, more light, in the world, or enough of it, that that's possible, and even if it's not easy, and as hard as it can be and as hopeless as it can feel sometimes in life, still shamelessly gives a finger (or maybe a candle) to the darkness and refuses to give up.

But this is just me (and not even me all the time I admit as sometimes I have felt like giving up, even if somehow I don't and keep going because again I'm kind of stubborn), and I can only speak for myself and I don't expect everyone to be like me (nor do I really think that would be very desirable as I'm kind of a weird guy as I have made clear here I'm sure), but would only offer this stance as one potential stance to take, the stance of trying to find whatever hope, peace, joy, love, light, and yes magic, that you can and holding onto it, and being open at least to the possibility that there is more of it out there and that there's enough of it to go around, and that maybe there can be healing for us all, someway, somehow, someday, and that in the end it will be okay, because these things, even if they may seem weaker and smaller, are still stronger and greater than the darkness.

As far as why I have this stance and believe, or try to believe, such things, aside from my stubbornness, I guess it's in part my faith or spirituality, such as it is, even though I no longer identify with Christianity and its worldview, but am still open to some deeper reality or force behind or underneath things that I at least hope is positive or benevolent, a light in the darkness if you will, and also have this sense that we are connected to or part of that deeper reality or force or light, and maybe that's not clear or very defined but it's where I am at I guess.

Do I still have questions? Sure. Do I still have doubt and uncertainty? Absolutely. But again in spite of that each day I choose to hold on and keep going, which is all that I really can do I guess.

And I know I'm far from being the only one who has questions and doubt and uncertainty in this crazy ass world, and to ask others to hold on and keep going can sure be a big ask sometimes, but it's something I'll keep asking of others because it's something that I'll keep asking of myself as well.

If I'm preaching a sermon here (which is not my aim, that's for damn sure, but if that's still how it comes off then I apologize profusely) then I'm preaching it to myself too, because I need as much exhortation as anyone, and when I am trying to encourage others I am also trying to encourage myself as I need as much encouragement as anyone, and if I try to bring light to others I also try to bring it to myself, because, you guessed it, I need light as much as anyone.

Anyway, it's late now, 4:44 am to be exact, so I should probably wrap this up and head to bed so I'm not too much of a zombie on Christmas Day (as I doubt anyone got me brains for Christmas, though I could sure use some more of those...), but will leave you with this excerpt from a poem I wrote for a good friend of mine as a Christmas gift this year, as a way of expressing how I feel about Christmas and what it means to me:

A goddess sleeps Her fire an ember Cold hands Warm heart of December Grief and magic We all remember

[kayincolwyn]

The Light In The Dark (Christmas reflection, 12-25-2020)

I remember in my mid 20s, while I was an active churchgoer, going to late night Christmas Eve services, all of us in the church lighting our candles (with their open-ended plastic cups surrounding the candles to keep the flames at least somewhat contained), one candle lighting another candle, one at a time, gradually lighting up the darkened sanctuary and our faces, while our pastor and our elders would lead us in prayer, and I remember in those moments sometimes feeling something I couldn’t name (even though I thought I could at the time, believing it was ‘God’ or ‘Jesus’, and to the exclusion of all other faiths, even though I still have some appreciation for the faith I have since distanced myself from) something perhaps deeper than the religious beliefs I was intellectually assenting to at that time (because I thought I needed to to fit in), some deeper longing underneath the doctrine and the dogma, an aching for something transcendent or even infinite, something that was both beyond us but also somehow within us, part of us, and we of it, and not just some of us but all of us.

Looking back now I question much of what I was told I should believe back then, having walked away from the evangelical Christian world because I ended up being wounded and disillusioned by it in many ways (though when thinking on what I learned from that experience and where it led me, as difficult as it was mentally and emotionally at times, I don’t believe I would go back and change it if I could, because it’s still an important part of who I am today) and yet that longing and aching remains inside of me still, and I believe it is in many of us if not all of us, and whether we may be religious or not, and the symbol of a candle burning in the dark, my own with many more, still speaks to me. Over the last year the world has had to face a global pandemic that has taken coming up on two million lives thus far, and has brought suffering and loss in some form or another to millions or even billions more by effecting the world economy and burdening much of the global psyche with a daily dose of anxiety and uncertainty (added to the anxiety and uncertainty that each of us has to deal with already on an individual and collective level), and along with the pandemic there has been political and social upheaval and turmoil here in America and in other parts of the world that sometimes can feel greater than it has ever been before, or at least has been for a long time, or at least in my lifetime, and all of this, when you really think about it, dwell on it, can make it feel like the times are very dark indeed. I think making a joke of how horrible 2020 has been for so many of us (to one degree or another) has become a widespread cultural meme because being inane sometimes keeps us from going insane, because sometimes our laughter is easier for us to handle than our tears. I could try to go into the details of this time, give my views on the pandemic and on some of the political and social issues of the day, but I’ve tried to do that in previous reflections, and really we hear about it enough in the news, and while it’s important to try to keep at least moderately informed, sometimes it can just be too much and we need a break, and more than that we need something to counter all the reminders of division and sorrow and pain that exist in our world, we need to counter the weight of it all, maybe find some reminders of unity and joy and love in our world to balance things out a bit, find some light in the dark to hold onto. I have found these reminders and this light in things that are too easily taken for granted like food and clothing and shelter, a steady job, or the love and support of family and friends, as well as simple pleasures like reading and watching movies and listening to music, taking a warm shower or laying in a warm bed, getting out of the rain or gazing up at the stars, and so many things. Of course not everyone has what I have, and I am aware of that, aware that I have certain advantages and gifts that others don’t possess in a too often unfair and unjust world where no one should be in want and yet so many are... and there are many who go without food or clothing or shelter, many who are unemployed, many who find themselves without love and support, many who have few pleasures and comforts that they can name, and while feeling guilty for what I have isn’t helpful or necessary, I know that I should be grateful for it and understand that in some ways I’m fortunate, and that I can try to help others where I can so I can make the world a little better (and trying to figure out what ways I can do that, make the world a little better, as flawed and fallible as I am, is something I wrestle with often). Sometime later today (probably sometime in the afternoon because the Wiley clan are generally not morning people) my working class family and I will open our gifts under our decidedly fake and yet ever so shiny and pretty (and that’s really all that matters when it comes to Christmas trees I would think) little blue Christmas tree, and likely there will be a little drama (as is often the case around the holidays as we all know too well), but also likely there will be a little love (which thankfully is often the case around the holidays), which is partly why I still appreciate Christmas even after all these years and even moving further and further away from the innocence of childhood and my faithful letters to Santa, and in spite of all the commercialism surrounding it, and in spite of this being one of the darkest years in memory, because it can be a reminder of the good and of the light. Of course this is just my experience of Christmas, and of life in general, as again not all are so fortunate, and some view Christmas (or even life in general) with so much cynicism and even disgust and I can’t say that I completely blame them for it when looking around at the world there are so many reasons to be cynical and disgusted, and unless you have blinders on you can’t really argue that. And yet I can’t help but cling to my little candle in the dark, the light that life brings me and maybe even the light I can give (as hard as that may be sometimes as flawed and fallible as I am), and look for the candles of those around me and see how they shine, trying to remember those things that make our lives worth living or at least make them bearable, like the simple enjoyment of our hobbies and interests, or the beauty of art or of nature, or the kindness of family and friends and even of strangers, but also those moments when we feel that longing and aching for something more, something that I’ve felt is with us from birth and throughout our lives and until our deaths and perhaps beyond, something that connects all of us on some deeper level that we can’t fathom, that somehow goes beyond the doctrines and dogmas of religion or politics or society or culture which can never make everything clear or get everything right, something that lights up our faces as well as our hearts, that we may try to give a name to but cannot wholly contain in our labels or definitions, as its flame is so great and powerful that the silly plastic cups of our assumptions and expectations cannot contain it, though our little candle flames, as insignificant as they may seem, are a reflection of and a channel for that fire. But even though I no longer believe that we can truly name and define this greater light, this brighter flame, that connects us, let alone contain it, I do find myself believing that (because sometimes I think we can point to the truth, whatever it may be, even while we are stumbling in the dark and there may always be more that we don’t know than what we do know), as the Advent season leading up to Christmas points to, that it has something to do with things such as hope, peace, joy, and love. And we need these things, and in times like this most especially, we need reminders that our world isn’t only filled with ugliness and terror only but also with beauty and wonder, isn’t only despair but is also hope, isn’t only fear but is also peace, isn’t only sorrow but is also joy, isn’t only hate but is also love, and that there is light that can keep the dark at bay.  Of course I can only speak for myself, and I don’t know exactly what the future will bring, and sometimes the thought of it frightens me I admit, even overwhelms me, and I’m sure I’m not alone in that, and yet I keep holding on as best I can, holding to the good, holding to the light. Wherever you are right now, and whoever you are, may you find some hope, some peace, some joy, and some love to hold to in this time, and may you find light to carry you through the dark.

[kayincolwyn]

Whatever It Means To Be Human Part 2 (reflection, 9-1-2020)

It's been over four months now since I posted my Easter reflection back in April, where I reflected on the advent of Covid 19 in our world, among other things, and circled around the question of what (or whatever) it means to be human (and I say whatever because I don’t really know and am trying to figure it out), and having reread my post to refresh my memory a bit, I would still stand by everything that I said there (and before you read this post I would recommend reading that one first, if you haven’t yet, as this post will be a kind of followup to that one, and you can read that here: https://kayincolwyn.tumblr.com/post/615193773065093120/whatever-it-means-to-be-human-easter-reflection).

That said, much has happened, both in the world and in my own life, in the four to five months since writing that post, and I think there is more that I need to try and process and would like to share, so I guess you could say this is 'Part II'.

Before I really begin here, as I will be diving into some controversial topics here involving political and social issues, among other things, I wanted to try to share some things that maybe you could try to keep in mind about me while you’re reading on.

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Throughout much of my life I have been back and forth, and on different sides of the aisle politically and socially and philosophically and spiritually, as I have talked about some in previous posts. And also, as I have shared in previous posts, I was an evangelical Christian back in my late teens and through much of my 20s, and while I began walking away from that in my late 20s and then completely turned away from that in my early 30s, my experience with it had a significant impact on my thinking, and part of that impact is in how it has made me wary of dogmatic and inflexible thinking that doesn't leave all that much room for dialogue or nuance (which unfortunately is very common in evangelical Christianity and much of religion in general, although it is not exclusively found in religion, as it can be found in other venues as well, like politics for example). That wariness lingers under the surface as I continue to wrestle with different ideologies of all kinds that I find being shared around between people throughout the world, and I try not to be so dogmatic and inflexible myself if I can help it.

Over the last couple years I've been going back and forth a bit on political and social issues, like for example, as I talked about in a previous post, about a year or two ago I delved into men's rights issues a bit (a topic which is often frowned on by many on the left, and understandably so, what with how much women have to deal with in this world, which I acknowledge and want to empathize with) after watching the controversial documentary called The Red Pill, which was directed by a former feminist named Cassie Jaye (and she no longer identifies as feminist, nor does she identify as an MRA or men's rights activist, but just as someone who cares about both women and men equally, which I can appreciate as that’s kind of where I’m at too), and from there I read articles and listened to podcasts and the like, and I delved into feminism a bit as well, but eventually I concluded that both sides had some valid points as well as some blind spots, with some people on both sides trying to empathize with the other side and some not, people on both sides being human and thus flawed and fallible but also capable of kindness and empathy, both a mix of dark and light, and regardless of gender. Feminists will talk about the patriarchy and MRAs will talk about gynocentrism (basically matriarchy), each trying to say that the other gender is the real oppressor of the other, which to be honest is all pretty confusing when you go down those rabbit holes because eventually it seems to become a kind of contest about which gender suffers more, and I finally concluded that whatever the cause may be for it (or whatever or whoever you may blame for it), both men and women have their problems and struggles, just different kinds of problems and struggles at least generally, and women generally struggling in certain ways more than men (which men may sometimes not be aware of or completely understand) and men generally struggling in certain ways more than women (which women may sometimes not be aware of or completely understand), and overlapping more than they might realize because they’re both human, and then of course trans and non-binary people having their own unique problems and struggles that may not fall into either of the traditional gender categories, which is a good reminder that we really need to be open to rethinking and reexamining gender roles and gender identity, and not making such things such straight jackets for people and instead having a little more flexibility about them because humans are just too complicated to be put into boxes, and then remember that everyone on all sides needs some empathy and understanding because they, and we, are all human... Basically I didn’t really care for the dogmatic and inflexible thinking that I sometimes encountered on either side of this debate, and, while trying not to throw out the baby with the bathwater, didn’t feel like I had to agree with every doctrine that was put forward by either side in the debate (and I’m not a fan of being bullied into accepting doctrines by the way, something else I learned from my experience in evangelicalism, because I want to be able to think for myself and make up my own mind) and I just tried to come to my own conclusions, whatever made sense to my head and my heart, and this is the approach I try to take when it comes to a lot of things (and thought I’d share some of my thoughts and feelings on this, as controversial as they may be, to illustrate that approach that I try to take on things).

I also delved into the works of the controversial professor and psychologist Jordan Peterson, and to a lesser extent some other members of a loose knit group of thinkers called the IDW, or Intellectual Dark Web (of which Peterson is probably the most widely known member, along with Sam Harris, whom Peterson has had some friendly and interesting philosophical debates with, mainly concerning the nature of truth and fact), some of whom are more liberal (like Bret Weinstein and his brother Eric Weinstein, who coined the name IDW) and some of whom are more conservative (like Ben Shapiro) and everywhere in between (like Peterson himself), and all of them calling for better dialogue and more nuance in our world today (i.e. the highly popular podcast The Joe Rogan Experience is considered an unofficial part of the IDW by some, where there are often hours long in depth discussions on different topics which can at times be funny but can also be educational or thought provoking, although your mileage may vary on Joe Rogan himself, who is at times controversial). Getting into that led me to dancing around the edges of more conservative thinking, some of which I could kind of understand or even resonate a little bit with (like seeing some problems with the identity politics on the left) and then also some that I couldn't (like mostly ignoring the identity politics on the right, which also exist), and for awhile I identified as more of a moderate who saw problems equally on both sides, but I have found myself pulling back a little from that stance especially within the last few months as I honestly have come to feel that the left, even with its problems, in my opinion kind of has more of the right idea (no pun intended... well maybe a bit) than the right does when it comes to many issues, even if the right, when they are being reasonable and rational (!), can some times help balance things out on the left, just as the left, when they are being reasonable and rational (!), can sometimes do the same on the right... or at least that's kind of the ideal anyway I think (thus those explanation points after reasonable and rational on both of them), though I imagine that a fair number of people on both sides might disagree with that assessment, and believe that the other side should be simply wiped out of existence which would make life easier (or less complicated anyway, though I wonder if it really would, or if it may make it even more complicated for all that we know).

Anyway, even though I don't fully agree with Peterson or anyone else in the IDW (i.e. I found what Peterson and others had to say about philosophy and psychology more interesting and thought provoking than what they had to say about politics and social issues, which I more often had issues with), or really just about anyone that I've read or listened to who has shared their perspective about things, a few things that I learned that have stuck with me after delving into the IDW for about a year, and in exploring different ideologies and listening to conversations between opposing sides (and continuing to do that to some extent) was the value of thoughtful dialogue and some nuance, as well as appreciation for long form discussions (instead of soundbytes and tweets, because even though there is value in trying to be as concise as possible, there are some things that are just so complex and multifaceted that you need to take your time with them) and overall I got more of an awareness of the complexity of the world and the people in it, a sense that there are always multiple sides to every issue and they may all (or at least most of them) have something of value to contribute, and that there are rarely easy fixes to complex problems, all of which can be admittedly aggravating, but not all that surprising when you consider that there are billions of human beings on the planet, each of them with a unique perspective shaped by their own unique personal makeup and experiences, and also a very complex and multifaceted and strange and at times difficult to understand and process world and universe, with a set of rules and reasons and purposes that all of us struggle to comprehend and grasp.

(By the way, for anyone who was interested in reading more about my delving into those things, you can read this blog post here, which I wrote back in December, though keep in my mind that my perspective has shifted a little bit since then, like leaning more left now, because I’m still learning and exploring - https://kayincolwyn.tumblr.com/post/189427667605/trying-to-find-my-way-in-this-weird-and-wild-world)

I mean no wonder this weird and wild thing we call life and that we all share and experience together is difficult to hammer down into a manageable shape and put in a box. And all of this has reminded me to try to remember that the truth is rarely simple or black and white, and to remember to try to be as humble as I can and admit that there will probably always be more that I don't know than what I do know.

Along with this, because I am a human being, I really want to connect with others, and want to be able to get along with people, but I admit that it is sometimes difficult, even very difficult, when there is disagreement between us.

As I said in a recent post on Facebook: '...the trouble is that deep down in my gut I feel that one of the most important things about life, if not the most important thing about life, is relationships, how we connect with one another, love, and even if I feel like I'm an amateur at best when it comes to all of that, and because I desire that, even though I’m mostly introverted, I try to relate to others as best I can in spite of our differences and disagreements, though I admit it becomes more and more difficult the less and less you have in common with people and the more and more you disagree with them, and there can come a point where you just can't figure out how to get along as you see so little eye to eye. I try my best to get along with others, and sometimes that means keeping my opinions to myself to avoid conflict, though there are times when I wonder where the line is and when it's more important to be true to myself and where I'm at than it is to be at peace with someone, and that's something that often makes me feel conflicted and I'm not really sure how to be balanced in that... but I keep trying. Maybe we could all try a little harder to get along with people (while still being true to ourselves), but I get it that it's easier said than done, and we all have our limits, and it's important for us to have boundaries, I know that I do, but I think we should at least try to have some measure of respect for one another and should at least try to see the humanity in one another as much as we can in spite of any disagreements or differences. Again that is easier said than done, it's not easy for me or for any of us, but I want to keep trying and I think we all should at least try.'

So as I write this I have all of that in mind, the complexity of things and a desire for thoughtful dialogue and nuance (and to not be overly dogmatic or inflexible) as well as a desire to be able to connect and get along with people (while also being true to myself), including people that I may disagree with, and maybe you can try to keep all of that in mind too as you read whatever I say from here on.

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So now, with all that said, where to begin? Well, I guess I could start where I started in my first post, with Covid 19. Unfortunately summer didn't bring the reprieve from the virus that I think a lot of us were hoping for, and it seems to be spreading just as much as it was before in many places throughout the world, and here in America more than just about anywhere else it seems because, well, to be honest, I think our country has in large part dropped the ball on this pandemic as much as many of us here might hate to admit it (although, to be fair, there are many people who are trying to do their best to combat it).

In the beginning there at least seemed to be more unity around dealing with this, a little more of that spirit of 'we're all in this together', like we had after 9/11, but over the last few months, at least as far as I can tell, there now seems to be more division surrounding Covid 19, mostly between liberals and conservatives, where there has been heated argument and debate about wearing face masks and reopening our schools and even some conspiracy theories about Covid 19 being a hoax to control the masses somehow, among other things that honestly kind of boggle my mind.

I believe Covid 19 is a real thing that is really making people sick and really killing people, and believe that wearing face masks does help cut back at least some on transmission (and that it isn't infringing on our rights to be asked to wear them for the sake of others, it's just asking us to be decent humans that care about the health and welfare of others around us, at least in my opinion), that reopening schools is problematic at best (I mean it's hard enough to get adults to find consensus on these issues and to abide by guidelines, even though I do sympathize with parents right now), and though I am willing to acknowledge that scientists and doctors are still in the process of trying to understand this thing and are, like the rest of us, only human (and I am sure they would admit to that) and doing their best to figure this out on the fly, I don't believe this is some giant conspiracy, even if there are no doubt some who will try to take advantage of this situation, as is always the case in situations like this because, well, for better or worse, humans will be humans, and being human always includes the potential of, well, you’re being an opportunistic asshole, but the existence of opportunistic assholes (whether they be con artists or politicians... is there a difference? I kid, I kid... or do I?) does not always necessarily mean the existence of conspiracies. On the other hand, I do understand all of the anger and frustration, with so many losing jobs, struggling to find child care for their kids, and in many ways having their lives put on hold, because of this virus. I wish this wasn’t happening either, that I could get on the bus to and from work or go to the store or wherever and not have that fear in the back of my mind that I’m gonna catch it and die in my 30s (and just the other day I was reading online about a 37 year old woman here in Oregon who was seemingly healthy dying from Covid, which was needless to say sobering for me to hear), or that my wife will catch it and die from it, or my family, or my friends, people that I know and care about.  I mean I get that Covid 19 isn’t Captain Trips from Stephen King’s The Stand with a 99 % fatality rate, but there are still enough people who are dying from it, especially in our elderly population, that I believe it is serious enough and that we need to do what we can to save as many lives as we can rather than just throwing caution to the wind and acting like this is all just survival of the fittest (and this virus sometimes takes down the fittest as well as the weakest, so being healthy and fit may not necessarily be a guarantee that you’ll be fine). All that said, we do need to try to help those who are most effected by this (and though I have been effected by this in some ways I realize that compared to many others I’ve been lucky), but I hope that rather than being so divided about this that we can at least try as much as we can to get back more to that spirit of ‘we’re all in this together’. Or at least this is my general view of things when it comes to Covid 19.

Also, while I try not to get into politics too much on this blog, I will say that I am also pretty frustrated with our government's lack of swift action on the pandemic and the fallout for our economy. Republicans blame the Democrats, and Democrats blame the Republicans, and sure, as a left leaning registered Democrat I do admit that I tend to want to point the finger at Republicans more (with all their crying and hand-wringing about putting our country into more of a deficit by giving more aid to the people they are supposed to represent and who really need the help, while not seeming to bat an eyelash at giving large amounts of money to big corporations, which to me and many others seems morally repugnant if that is their priority), and I really do feel they are more at fault at the end of the day if for no other reason than because they are the ones who have the reigns in both the White House and in the Senate, but I'm willing to at least acknowledge that Democrats aren't perfect either and have their own agendas as well, and there is a part of me that wishes there was some way of forcing people on both sides of the aisle to work out all of their BS and get off their respective high horses and be willing to meet somewhere in the middle and at least try to do the jobs they were elected to do, so the people of this country don't continue to suffer as much as they are suffering.

And while I haven't really brought up my feelings about our current president, Donald Trump, on this blog, as again I try not to get into politics too much here, I’ll simply say that I really do not like the man and I do not believe he is fit to be in the position of authority he is in, and not only that but I feel that he is a terrible role model for our country that brings more division than unity, which we desperately need more of right now. Do I hate the man? I don't know honestly. My frustration with his rhetoric and behavior at times has probably bordered on that I admit, but I have talked about universalism in this blog, the belief that all people will find healing and redemption in the end somehow, though that applies more to what I believe, or hope, will happen after death in some kind of afterlife, and that hope of mine applies just as much to people that I do not like at all like Trump. There is part of me that hopes for the man's soul if nothing else, and I do not wish ill on his soul if that makes any sense, but I do hope that he is taken out of his position of power and influence so he can do no more harm in it, and I hope that he is humbled and changed somehow in the end, for his sake as well as that of others.

That all said, I admit I'm not thrilled that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris are running against Trump in the election as I feel they are both establishment Democrats who have somewhat shady reputations much as Hillary Clinton is and has, and I admit that I've been more behind the likes of Bernie Sanders and Tulsi Gabbard myself (even if I think they have their issues as well) as I think I gravitate towards candidates like them more because, for one, they back universal healthcare, which I feel is long overdue in our country (which establishment Democrats tend to dance around more than I would like), and they also seem to be more anti-war (and it seems to me that establishment Democrats tend to be more pro-war), because while I'm not suggesting that we be isolationist (as I think that would be unwise) and am not anti-military, I do think our country needs to move away from playing world cop... though all of that is just my point of view and I know some would disagree. But anyway, that all aside, I feel Biden and Harris are the lesser of two evils at least to me (though it's pretty frustrating that we're put in the position where we have to vote between whatever any of us on either side feel is the lesser of two evils rather than the greater of two goods... or that we have to vote between only two candidates... I mean why aren't there more viable options?) so I am planning on somewhat begrudgingly voting for them come November, because if nothing else I believe they have more experience in government so I think they will at least be more competent than I believe Trump is, and they probably (or hopefully) share a lot more of my values (though not all of them I'm sure) than Trump does. Ideally I would just vote for #ADecentHumanBeing2020 but I guess I'll take what I can get, even if it only feels like the bare minimum.

And lastly, while I don't hate my country, I admit I am disappointed with it in some ways and I have mixed feelings about being an American in general. I mean I'm grateful for the resources and freedoms that I have (especially during these times, also grateful that I still have a job and food and clothing and shelter when not everyone does), I am, but I feel that we could be so much better than we are.

I tried to express those mixed feelings of disappointment and of some hope (because I would like to think there is still hope for my country) in a poem that I wrote on July 4th:

Yesterday the boy stood with hand firmly to heart singing over the ramparts of a streaming imagination where the rockets glared red in the night where the bombs burst in the deep blue sky where a flag billowed all tattered yet glorious in the wind

But he sang a song only in part of the land of the free of the home of the brave not yet seeing and not yet knowing that not all in the land were free that not all who called it home were brave

Today the man stands with hand wavering to heart wondering what truth there may be in the many lies what promise what hope there may be in the bloody hands of an all too human history and in the here and the now

And he wonders of the song entire of conquest and loss of injustice and shame yesterday and today stripes and guns cutting lives to pieces and a banner waving too proudly in the mud

And yet he remembers that in darkness there may be light and the stitched stars may speak of hope as well as sorrow for boys and men may falter but they may also rise to reach for and find a greater freedom and bravely tell and write a better story

I admit that all I wrote above in the first draft of this was more forceful and probably had a little more edge to it but on going back and revising it now I have been trying to tone it down some, as again I want to try to be as nuanced and balanced as I can, and also I want to connect with those I disagree with so I don't want to completely alienate people if I can help it, but even with those revisions I know that I have probably gotten more overtly political with what I wrote above than I have at any other time in this blog, and it may upset some who may disagree with me, as politics, for whatever reasons, more than most things gets people upset, and wanting to go full on cage match with one another, so I just want to say that I know that there are people that I know and care about, family and friends, who feel differently, maybe even very differently, about some or even all of these things, about Covid 19 or about the government or about the president and the election and our country and everything, and I don't want to cut them off simply because we don't see eye to eye on some things or even a lot of things, because I know people are complex and multifaceted and more than just their political positions or viewpoints, and I would hope I could at least agree to disagree with them and find some common ground and try to focus on what really matters most to me, which is our relationships and connections with one another, if we can hold onto them in spite of our disagreements, whether they be large or small or few or many. 

And this also applies to the other big issue that has arisen in the months since I wrote my first post, which is of course the protests that began after the horrific murder of George Floyd by a police officer. I admit I haven't yet watched the video of George Floyd's death because that kind of thing unnerves me (I mean it's one thing to watch horror films where you know the deaths aren't real, but then another thing to watch someone who is really dying, let alone in such a horrific way), and I'm not sure whether or not I will watch it, but I know that that and all of these other murders of black men and women are real and are really happening, and if even there are some cases in which a crime was being committed or some of the victims were convicted criminals (though in other cases no crime was being committed or they weren't convicted of any crime), or where racism may not have even been a factor (though it most certainly is sometimes), in any case none of these people, these human beings, deserved to have their lives taken from them by those who are supposed to serve and protect their communities, which includes people of color.

I shared my general feelings about racism in a blog post I wrote a couple years back that I titled White Man (because it was from the perspective of a white man, that being me, as that’s the only perspective I can give), and my feelings about it then remain much the same as they do now, and you can check that out here if you want: https://kayincolwyn.tumblr.com/post/177197995120/white-man-reflection-8-19-18

(And just as a quick aside here, in that blog post on racism I did bring up the film Black Panther, and having just heard about the death of Chadwick Boseman, who played the Black Panther, and who died at age 43 after a long battle with cancer which he had kept private (and amazingly he was still working, including playing the decidedly physical role of the Black Panther, that whole time, which I have to say is pretty badass), so just wanted to say what a loss that is, and yeah, having lost family and friends to cancer I’ll also say fuck cancer, and want to give condolences to his family and friends. Wakanda Forever)

Because I already shared my general feelings about racism in a previous post on my blog I will just try to focus on the more specific issue of law enforcement here and my feelings about it, and my feelings about the protests.

Before I go any further with all of this, I just want to say as a white guy I know that my experience of life is different in various ways from those of many people of color around the world, and I acknowledge that my skin color gives me some advantages that many people of color don't have in societies and systems that too often treat people of color (and most especially Africans in many places) differently than they would someone like me, which I know is not right or fair or just, and I know my voice isn't as important in this conversation as those of people of color (though I think all of us should have a voice about the more general issue of abuse of authority in law enforcement as that is an issue that can and does effects all of us, but again when it comes to the issue of racism specifically I know as a white man there is really only so much that I can say and I would want to give more of the floor to those who are effected much more by it than myself) but I want to share my thoughts and feelings on this if for no other reason than to try to process them and to try to show solidarity on this, even if my feelings are admittedly conflicted and complicated in some ways.

I admit my own experience with law enforcement has been mostly positive, as I was a janitor who cleaned my local police station for 5+ years (till my company lost the city contract a few years ago to another janitorial company, though there is hope we might be able to get it back in a couple years) and became friendly with a number of the officers there, and they more often than not showed me kindness, even going so far as to raise a couple hundred dollars to contribute to my wedding about six years ago. Through that experience I got to know police officers as real people, talking with them about everything from movies and music to politics and religion, and like any other group of people that I've known they had various interests and viewpoints. I admit that racism wasn't something that really came up in conversation while I was working there, or not that I can remember, and I admit that I saw little evidence of it there (but I know that one police department isn’t representative of all police departments throughout the country and the world, and also know that my own experience is only my own experience and thus anecdotal and not representative of how things are in general), though I admit I did sometimes see that at least some officers had a kind of cynical and jaded attitude about humanity that was concerning to me. I got the sense that some of the officers looked down on people that they frequently dealt with, most of them being people who are poor and uneducated and frequently in trouble with the law (whether black or white or otherwise), and there was a sense that such people were 'trash' and maybe even irredeemable. Of course not all the officers I interacted with gave off that vibe and some seemed to be more compassionate than others (admittedly the female officers generally seemed to be more compassionate, but then women generally seem to be more naturally compassionate than men anyway so I guess that's to be expected), but I got the feeling that having a job where you had to frequently, day after day, deal with the dark underbelly of society could chip away at one's faith in humanity and make you pessimistic and maybe even fatalistic at times.

I remember one of the officers once telling me that he sometimes struggled with how some viewed police officers like himself, that they only saw the uniform and not the person underneath the uniform, which gave me some food for thought. He was the same officer that told me once that the department considered me to be family in spite of my rather unglamorous job there and that they had my back, which I appreciated.

I also remember an officer who was once involved in a shooting where a young man ran at him and another officer with a knife and they shot him in self defense, later finding out that the young man was the one who made the call to the police about a man running around the parking lot with a knife, and it was suicide by cop, and I remember how shaken up this officer was, how he even felt uncomfortable carrying a gun for awhile after that. I hadn't really interacted too much with that particular officer much, though he had always been kind to me at least in passing, though I know that he eventually recovered from that painful experience and began to rise up through the ranks and a couple years ago I found out that he'd become the new police chief, and I wondered if he had learned from his experience, if it had given him a kind of hard won wisdom, or at least I would like to think that that is the case. I recently read a Facebook post he had written speaking for the police department, expressing their disgust with the murder of George Floyd (and from what I’ve heard the vast majority of police officers in the country agree it was wrong and seriously crossed the line, which is encouraging to hear) and many others and their solidarity with peaceful protesters and how their aim was to treat everyone in the community equally, and I appreciated that post and at least having some personal insight into the character of the man, both from my interactions (although they were brief and small) with him and knowing what he had gone through, I believed it was genuine.

Because of all of this personal background I admit I just can't bring myself to totally hate the police or to agree with the sentiment that 'All Cops Are Bad' or 'All Cops Are Bastards' (or whatever the frequently used acronym ACAB stands for in social media... though I could get on board with something like TMCAB, or Too Many Cops Are Bad or Too Many Cops Are Bastards), but again as I’ve said I'm a white guy, and I may just be lucky enough to have a local police department that is better than some or even most other departments, and I know that my experience with the police isn’t the same as that of others, and if you have only had negative experiences with the police then I can understand why you would feel negatively about them.

I admit that before I had that job cleaning my local police station, closely interacting with a number of officers on an almost daily basis for a number of years, I hadn't had the best experience with police and didn't particularly care much for them myself, having been falsely accused of some wrongdoing by officers a couple of times when I was in the wrong place at the wrong time or when they thought I was doing something I wasn't doing or that I was someone else that they were looking for (though I am aware that if I wasn't a white guy those encounters might have gone differently if those particular officers had any kind of racial bias), so while my experience cleaning a police station did give me a more nuanced view about people in law enforcement and it humanized them for me to some extent, I can understand why there are many that don't like or even hate the police, and when there are officers out there that seem to be disproportionally beating up and gunning down people of color I can understand why sentiments like ACAB exist, and while it may be true that anger is rarely very nuanced and wrath tends to generalize about things, which is a problem (and a very human problem), behind that anger may be fear and pain that is very real and valid and shouldn't be ignored.

Even with my more nuanced views about and experiences with police officers as real people, I do agree that there needs to be changes to law enforcement, and not just concerning racism but in general.

As far as racism goes, while I didn't see much evidence of it myself in my own local police department (and like I said our department may be better than some or most departments), I know that it exists in law enforcement (and of course not just there), and I have heard here and there that there have even been some white supremacist groups that have tried to infiltrate law enforcement and other forms of government by having their members get jobs in these fields to try to spread their ideology in the system below the radar (of course this can't be confirmed, but then to be fair it also can't be denied either), and as a friend of mine pointed out to me recently, often times people with a skewed way of looking at things will get into a leadership position and then will hire people who think the way they do and then the whole system will be infected with skewed ways of thinking, including racist ways of thinking, and this can happen in law enforcement just as much as it can anywhere. While I am not sure how widespread this is it honestly wouldn't surprise me, as racism is sadly still alive and well in this country, it's just that it has gone more underground since the civil rights movement of the 60s, so white supremacists are more likely to wear business suits now than they are to wear hooded robes, and are generally less obvious and more subtle (a shift that has been pointed out recently in shows like HBO's Watchmen), and as others have pointed out there is a legacy of racism in law enforcement, which in the past at least in some places focused heavily on keeping people of color down through fear and intimidation, and many would argue at least some (if not all) police departments continue to do that today. As far as what the percentage is of police officers who are in fact racists or even white supremacists working incognito to spread their ideology, or if this goes so deep into the structure of law enforcement that it is at conspiracy levels, honestly I don't know for sure, but I think it is definitely an issue that can't and shouldn't be ignored.

More generally, I believe that officers should be held to a higher standard of conduct than regular citizens, and should not be above the law, and I can understand how frustrating it is that there are so many officers who cross the line and clearly abuse their authority and yet seem to face little to no consequences for their actions, and I believe this should change, and I would like to think that any decent officer would agree if for no other reason than because officers that cross the line and abuse their authority give all other officers a bad name. In my experience cleaning the police station and interacting with officers I could see the camaraderie among them and the sense of family that they had, and as is the case in many families they tend to protect their own, and thus you have what many call 'the thin blue line', and while I understand that camaraderie and sense of family and don't think it's inherently a bad thing and in fact is a good thing in some ways, I don't believe it should ever get in the way of justice, which is the very thing law enforcement should be upholding and fighting for more than anything, as that is their job and I would hope their calling, and even if that sometimes means calling out or even bringing down their fellow officers who have crossed the line and abused their authority. While I know officers do get called out or reported by other officers, sadly there have been a number of officers who have tried to do that have ended up losing their jobs over it, so this is a problem in law enforcement that I believe needs to be addressed more, so they can have that sense of camaraderie and family but without letting it drive them to ignore or turn a blind eye to the misconduct and wrongdoing of those in their ranks.

When I first heard about 'DefundThePolice' I wasn't sure as it honestly sounded like a path to anarchy, and while there are some who want to abolish police or abolish prisons (and there's another issue which is very complicated, as I am against for profit prisons and acknowledge that people of color are often more harshly treated or given longer sentences in prison than others, and more generally I think prisons should be focused more on rehabilitation, if that is at all possible, rather than punishment, and maybe reserved for only the most violent criminals who are truly a danger to society, which is why I don't think they should be entirely abolished any more than police should be, though certainly downsized and given a more specific role and focus... but then I digress), and honestly I don't fully agree with that unless we can think up viable alternatives to deal with violent crimes and criminals (which there very well may be, but I think we really need to talk about it and figure out what to do before we get rid of all of the structures that are in place). But then when I found that it was generally just talking about spreading out funds to those systems that can help prevent crime in the first place, like education and job creation and better access to mental health services, as well as spreading out responsibilities to other trained professionals like counselors and social workers who could help deescalate some situations, like with domestic issues and people with mental illness, where a gun may not always be needed or required, this made some sense to me as it seems that doing things that way could not only be better for communities, who are often understandably wary of officers with guns, but also for law enforcement who are often overworked and expected to handle virtually any and all problems within communities, and letting officers focus more on situations that do require people who are armed, like violent crimes or situations where someone else is definitely armed and a threat. But I know these things are complicated (i.e., in some countries officers not having guns is maybe more understandable when most citizens in those countries don't own guns, whereas in this country gun ownership is widespread so it's more understandable for officers to go into situations assuming that suspects may have guns... though of course that leads into the whole gun control debate which I won't get into here) and I have not worked in law enforcement myself, but have only worked among people in law enforcement so got a feel for what life is like for them only vicariously, so there may be more factors that I am not fully aware of.  And I know that restructuring communities and society in these ways would be easier said than done, even if it was completely viable (because all of these things, whether retraining or redelegating or what have you, of course cost money and resources, and as most of us know, government entities, local and state and federal alike, are often notorious for not knowing how to wisely prioritize their budgets), but I do believe that this is at least an idea that is worth considering and exploring, and if nothing else I believe that as a society we should at least consider questioning the threat of and use of force as our go to answer for solving problems and instead always be willing to try to find non-violent ways of solving problems before we go and jump to violent ones (and I feel the same way about this when it comes to the military and war by the way, though I won't get into that here either).

Which brings me to the protests, which I know have been controversial among some as there have been some protests that have devolved into riots (or at least they were declared to be riots by law enforcement, which I think could be argued in some or even most cases) or have become violent (or at least according to the media, which again can be argued in some or even most cases). As others have pointed out though, the same people who bring up the argument that only a comparative minority of officers are responsible for the unjustified killing of citizens, especially citizens who are people of color, don't seem willing to make the very same argument for protesters, assuming that the few violent protesters represent the whole, which is of course a double standard that I don't believe is fair. Perhaps, to play fair, there are some protesters who have the same double standard in the opposite direction about the police, and that's a problem because generalizing is always a problem in my view, but I would go back to what I said about officers needing to be held to a higher standard than regular citizens, so violent officers are honestly a greater concern to me than violent protesters because the officers, even if they may be a minority of officers, are still the ones in a position of power and authority.

That said, I do recognize that there are some violent 'protesters', but I believe they are more often than not not so much protesters as they are more just anarchist types who are looking to pick a fight or just want to create chaos for the sake of chaos because it's a fun adrenaline rush for them, or they have some other ulterior motives, or in some cases they may even be white supremacists who are fronting as BLM protesters and trying to cause trouble in order to discredit the movement... because, again, things are complex.

And as far as BLM, or Black Lives Matter, goes, I have heard mixed things about the movement as a group or an organization, some of them being accused of holding radical views and stances on different issues, or of using controversial tactics for their aims, or of having ulterior motives, or whatever, and people can argue back and forth about all of that if they want I suppose, much as people in the past argued about controversial groups involved in the civil rights movement like the Black Panthers (and to be fair, as I said about the police, not being in law enforcement myself, I don’t know everything, and I could say the same about BLM as a group or organization, I’m not part of that group or organization, so I don’t know everything), but the bottom line for me at least is that that simple message that 'black lives matter' really can't and shouldn't be argued with (like 'all lives matter' may be a true enough statement but is often just used to deflect from the issue), and when I say I support BLM I mean that I support that simple message and regardless of whatever group or organization may have been built around it, much in the same way that I think Jesus is cool and believe that much of his message about compassion and empathy and grace is still relevant and meaningful today even if I think the religion that has been built around him is problematic (to say the least, and yeah I know this isn't a perfect analogy).

Anyway, in part because I wanted to see for myself what was going on at these protests, and wanted to try to show solidarity with BLM (again the message more so than the group or organization), I decided to go to a protest in downtown Portland with some friends a few weeks ago, just a couple nights after the federal officers began pulling out of Portland, which was all over the news.

To save on typing, I will share here most of a post that I wrote about my experience on Facebook:

'So last night was my first time to a protest, going with my friends Steve and Keith.

We got there a little late, around 10, lugging around big shields that Steve had made with black power symbols on them to show our solidarity with the BLM movement, as well as all the gear that we might need, including respirators, goggles, and spray tanks to use for tear gas if needed, though thankfully there was no need.

I had been thinking about going for awhile but wasn't sure because of my social anxiety, but eventually was compelled to go after listening to a podcast episode by my friend Kayla that challenged me as well as hearing about Steve and Keith going last Sunday.

I admit that leading up to last night I was pretty worried and anxious about having to potentially face off against the feds, and with mixed messages about whether or not they were actually leaving on Thursday we weren't sure, so we figured we should be over-prepared rather than under-prepared in case anything went down.

We stayed for about 3 hours, from about 10 pm to 1 am, and while the feds didn't show it was still an interesting night and meaningful at least for me.

When we got there there were some speakers for BLM and we stood in a line with our shields up listening, with a number of people, including independent press members, taking pictures of us, and while I don’t remember everything that was said then, I remember one of the speakers talking about how it's okay if you're uncomfortable, that that's okay, but you're here anyway because there is something deep down inside of you that is driving you to be here. That resonated with me.

Part of my reason for going was to see for myself what was going on, having gotten mixed messages in the news, and another was to face my fears of going, but also to show solidarity with BLM because even if people want to argue about BLM as an organization and some of their tactics or whatever, I don't think anyone with a conscience can argue that that simple message that black lives matter isn't true, because it clearly is, because black lives are human lives.

My best friend, AnneTeresa, who lives in Kenya, is a black woman, and I have thought of her when I hear stories about people like Breonna Taylor and I wonder if Annie lived over here in America, could that happen to her?

During our time there we had conversations and connections with different people, gave some supplies to the medics, and just tried to be a positive presence there.

Unfortunately towards the end of our time there was a group of mostly younger (yeah I know, sounding like a grumpy old man here... well not that old) people who were just trying to pick a fight and draw out whatever feds may have been left in the federal building, and there was an older black lady up front who was trying to stop them from riling up the feds by throwing things over the fence and setting fires and the like, as she felt that this kind of behavior is really counterproductive and just puts the BLM movement in a bad light and plays into that narrative that the protesters are violent and looking to riot, thus making their message invalid.

Steve was worried for her as she was surrounded by these agitators, and while not all of them were antagonistic and some were listening to her, some weren't listening, and he was kind of worried that she might get hurt so we went over by the fence to back her up along with some other folks.

Fortunately things didn't get physical or too heated, and eventually the lady, who was clearly upset and not just because of those agitators but also because of everything going in the world, Covid included, calmed down, and she was appreciative to all of us that stood up for her.

After that we left, and we felt kind of disappointed about the agitators taking focus off of what we should be there for, and even if they are just a minority of the people out there protesting, but also felt we had done some good there.

I'm glad that I handled things better then I thought I would. Granted my social anxiety still held me back a bit (like I regret not hugging that black lady like a couple others did, wanted to but was too shy about it) but I managed okay.

We may go again sometime, but want to wait and see where things go. While I too wanted the feds to leave as I think they were just stirring things up more, I believe they took focus off the original message of the protests, which was ending systemic racism as well as drastically reforming law enforcement...

...I remember the black lady, as one of those agitators threw a firecracker over the wall, crying and saying she wished we could all just love eachother, and that we are all made in God's image and should come together, and she was just tired of not seeing that happen in this world but instead seeing so much division and hate.

I feel the same way sometimes, wishing that we could all look beyond our differences and see how we're all connected as human beings, even in spite of all of our faults and flaws and individual shortcomings and hang ups, and that that our all being human and sharing this crazy world would be enough to bring us together.

I don't know how much good my going to that protest or any future protest is going to do or if it will help bring us a little closer to that reality, but I hope it's at least a step in the right direction.'

As you can see in my post above, there were some agitators there, and I didn't mention in my post but there were even some who were trying to encourage federal officers looking down on the crowd in the federal building to jump to their death (though I must admit that when one of the protesters started loudly singing 'I Believe I Can Fly' I kind of cracked up a little... hey I can't help it, I always appreciate cleverness, even in the most horrific of contexts), which I don't think was really helpful (even if that one guy was kinda funny, heck if I was one of those officers in the building I think I would laughed at that at least... it's either that or cry, gotta find humor in the crazy or you go crazy I guess), and like I said it was disappointing for us seeing those agitators just trying to stir things up, but still what they were doing isn't what the majority of the protesters out there were doing or are doing I think, at least not that I saw when I was there, and it doesn't change the importance of the message at least in my mind.

But that black lady (feel bad calling her ‘black lady’, as sadly I can't remember her name, as there was so much going on, so much sensory input, in that situation, that I could hardly process much of what was said... but I believe her name may have been Rhianna) and what she said in that moment is what stuck with me the most I think, and her face and her tears. I really do wish that I had been brave enough to set aside my social awkwardness to embrace her in that moment, thankfully a couple other people did, but I did feel her pain, and I know it wasn't just the pain of a black woman but the pain of a human being, which spoke both to the protests as well as everything that is going on.

It made me sad that that kid throwing the fireworks over the fence didn't see or recognize the pain in that woman, and he eventually stormed off, like a child throwing a tantrum (which he really kind of was), and I later heard from Steve that he got arrested trying to break into a police station during a protest which honestly didn't surprise me, but I hope that more people will see and recognize that kind of pain because I think it's important that we do, or at least try to. I would think that whatever it means to be human has something to do with sharing that pain with others and having others recognize it and answer it with empathy as much as they can.

And I just wanted to add here that I have thought about my motives for going to the protest, as well as signing some online petitions and making some donations and the like to show some support. I have heard about the concept of virtue signaling, where you try, usually unconsciously (though also sometimes consciously, which most would consider to be worse), to do things in order to look virtuous to others around you, and I wonder if I may be doing that. Well, to be honest, maybe I have been doing that at least to some extent (and maybe most of us do that sometimes if we're honest with ourselves about it, and perhaps those who judge others for doing it have done it themselves, because maybe it's more common and widespread of a human behavior than we might care to admit), maybe I do want others to think I'm a good person who is trying to do some good because I want people to like me and accept me and show me love because I crave that as a human, I mean I'm not going to lie and say that I don't want others to think well of me because I do have an ego just like anyone else... but, deep down, I also want to actually be a good person, whether others see it or not, or acknowledge it or not, even when no one is looking, if I can, even though no doubt I fail at that on a regular basis.

And I would like to take a stand more, though I admit I’m not sure how to go about that, as I’m not looking to pick fights with cops or with counter protesters or anything like that, and just want to stand for positive change in a peaceful and non-violent way if I can. A friend of mine has given me the nickname of ‘Dove’, which is sweet and is growing on me, but also think to some extent it kind of describes me fairly well, as, if I’m honest, I’m just not the most aggressive guy in the world (I mean I do get angry sometimes, but I’m more bark than bite). I mean, while I am a fan of action movies (most especially martial arts flicks, Bruce Lee for the win) and play some violent video games (most especially survival horror, like The Last Of Us series, which you will be hearing about more here in a bit) as much as the next guy, in real life I think that resolving problems with your words (and preferably words that aren’t dehumanizing to the person or persons on the other side of them, like those guys at the protest goading those federal officers to kill themselves, which I don’t think is helpful nor will bring us any closer to peace or positive change... even if that one guy was kinda funny) is generally better than resolving them with your fists, if that is at all possible.

I do admit that sometimes in watching people screaming online or out there in the streets, raging at protesters or raging at officers or just raging into the ether, sometimes I wonder what their motives are and if they actually want to do good in the world or if they just want to be seen doing what they perceive to be good to impress others or to feel better about themselves or if they are just angry about their lives or angry about the world and need an outlet for that anger, whoever they can yell at or beat on to try and get it out (though again behind that anger may be real fear or real pain that is valid and shouldn't be ignored), I do wonder what the protesters are thinking and wonder what the officers are thinking and wonder what we’re all thinking and sometimes wish we could all, in the words of the Doctor, just sit down and talk, and work things out that way rather than yelling at eachother or beating on eachother... but, well, here we are. I don't know, I don't know for sure what is in anyone else's heart, heck I barely know what's in my own heart... and again, here we are.

I do believe though that even if there are many people out there who may not have the best of motives, or maybe have mixed motives or whatever (and that may very well include me), I think there are just as many who really do want to make a difference in the world, and even if they never get any accolades for it. I know that there are others out there who have done and do far more than I have ever done or probably ever will do to make a positive impact in the world, and I know that my heart probably isn't as pure as it could be, and I don't have any illusions to sainthood as I know I would make for a poor one (though hey, maybe I might be able to pull off being an amusing one if nothing else), but I do want to keep trying, even if I stumble and fall and have to get back up again and again along the way. And I suppose that's really all any of us can do (or at least any of us that aren't saints, which is probably most of us).

As with my thoughts and feelings on Covid 19 or on political issues, I know that not everyone will agree with me on all of this (or maybe any of this), because I am trying my best to empathize with both sides in this (even if I may more often side with protesters because again I feel that people in law enforcement, even though they are in fact humans under those uniforms, should be held to a higher standard and if they can't meet that standard then maybe they shouldn't be working in law enforcement) and I get that, and I know if we're ever going to have unity we're going to need to learn to see the humanity in those that we disagree with, and 'be the change that you want to see' and all of that so I don't want to dehumanize anyone if I can help it. I don’t want to do that if I can help it, whether to family or friends that don't really take Covid seriously or who think Trump is great, or to some protesters that don't want to see officers as human beings under their uniforms but only see them as the enemy (or vice versa, to be fair, to some officers who don't want to see people they deal with as human beings and only see them as the enemy rather than people they are called to serve and protect) or to that kid who wouldn't see and recognize that woman's pain in that moment, and even if I may not agree with them or think they may be blind to certain things, all of these people are still people, and like I said people are complex and multifaceted, and there may be more to them than the ideology and the opinions that they espouse, and that really goes for people on all sides of everything from politics and religion to family squabbles and pop culture, and in all of this we're really just humans being humans, for better or worse.

It's of course easier said than done to keep all of this in mind when some of these ideologies and opinions that others espouse or the ways that others act or behave just really grinds my gears sometimes (channeling some Peter Griffin here), but I want to at least try, because I believe, as I said in my first post, that, like Fred Rogers thought, there is an inherent worth and value in human beings and regardless of who they are or aren't or what they have or haven't done.

Sometimes it is really difficult to see that and believe that though. Recently I had a run in with a guy that really challenged me on this. When Covid hit I got transferred from cleaning in downtown Portland to cleaning in Lake Oswego, so I have been busing it back and forth from there Sunday through Thursday, and I have been coming back home through Oregon City, where I have to wait at the Oregon City Transit Center for 20 minutes to catch my last bus to get home. Anyway, some weeks ago I was waiting for that bus and this guy sits across from me, an older guy, Latino I think, and starts talking with me. He's not wearing a face mask so I'm already a little on edge, but he says he tested negative for Covid and I'm willing to take his word for it. Anyways he starts out from way out of left field by telling me that he was a porn actor (not necessarily a problem with me as I watch porn myself, like a lot of people out there do if we're all honest adults here) and he also says that he was a child in the sex slave trade, which takes me aback but makes me want to try to listen and be more empathetic, so I listen, and he goes on saying how he got into porn because sex was the only thing he was good at, which is pretty sad, but as he goes on he starts coming onto me (he's either gay or bi, not sure which) and tries to convince me to come home with him, and he starts talking about how he likes to get and give blowjobs, and at one point he even starts asking me if I have a big dick and reaches for my crotch, at which I quickly move away and tell him not to touch me. He halfheartedly apologizes, saying that he's kind of drunk and just forward like that, and, while being kind of scared and uncomfortable, I try to keep my cool and try to let it slide. He gets on the same bus as me and decides to sit across from me (still not wearing a mask even though masks are required on the bus) and is telling me about how he was at the protests because he got beaten up by cops in the past, but also talks about how he likes to antagonize cops, and then he's talking about some woman, maybe a woman he knows or maybe a woman on the bus, not sure which, calling her all kinds of names, and all the while touching my arm periodically and still trying to convince me to come home with him, and even asking me where I live, and I just keep trying to be as friendly as I can so he doesn't get aggressive with me. Thankfully his stop was before mine and I was able to get home safely, and thankfully I haven't seen the guy since, but yeah, that was a challenging experience.

I mean, how am I supposed to process something like that? If what he said was in fact true, that he was a victim of the sex slave trade and then later on of police violence, and I imagine of racism as well, then I want to empathize with him, but then this guy is also talking about how he likes to antagonize cops and then is using misogynistic language about women and on top of all of that is sexually harassing me, all of which makes me on some level, a darker and colder level, think that, well, this guy is really just an asshole who maybe deserves a good thrashing, whether by a cop or really by anyone who might knock some sense into him... but then I go back to his maybe being a victim of the sex slave trade and a victim of police violence, which if he was really telling the truth about that (and I wonder who would lie about things like that, especially being in the sex slave trade?), it makes me wonder if that's what really screwed him up and made him an asshole in the first place, which again brings me back to wanting to be empathetic. So maybe it's both? Try to empathize with him, especially his child self, but also acknowledge that he's an asshole as his adult self? Just a human being a human, warts and all?

Would Fred Rogers have told that guy 'I like you just the way you are' as a way of saying that I see worth and value in you no matter what, or would Jesus, that guy Rogers was trying to emulate, have embraced this guy, as a way of saying that just because you exist you are loved unconditionally by God? Maybe, probably... I don't know. I guess I'm just saying it's harder to grapple with those kinds of deeper philosophical questions when you're the one whose pants he's trying to get into and your crotch is the one he's trying to grab without permission or consent. And maybe now I have a somewhat better idea of how a lot of women (and some men) out there feel on a semi-regular to regular basis... I am willing to try to forgive, to try to empathize, to see the worth and value in humans no matter what, or as that lady pointed out at the protest, to try to see the image of God in people, but it's not easy sometimes, so maybe I shouldn't so lightly ask others to do the same thing (including police or protesters or anyone else) when I know how difficult it can be... but still, even so, I think we should at least try.

And this experience was just a reminder of how very complicated and strange the world and the people in it can be, and how it's not very easy to fit everything into a nice little formula or box... that's not to say that I believe life is just all random chance (though it might be) and there is no meaning or purpose to our existence (though there might not be), but it sure can feel that way sometimes.

This makes me think of these two stories, or two fictional universes, which are very different but also connect in my mind in at least a couple ways, that I have been immersing myself in over the last couple months, those being the popular Last Of Us video game series (told you you would hear more about them), chiefly the most recent game The Last Of Us Part II (which I finished playing through recently, and yes I admit that is the inspiration of the title of this post, just in case you were wondering... and yes I am a nerd) and the two fantasy series which a friend recommended to me, The Belgariad and The Mallorean (The Mallorean being a part two itself to The Belgariad) by David Eddings, which I just finished reading last night (and I just finished the first of two prequels to those two series and am starting in on the second).

These have both been helping to carry me through this decidedly cruel summer (and there was never more truth to that classic 80s song then there is now I think, at least not in my lifetime anyway), and have also given me food for thought, and maybe a language to talk about some of the many things that are on my mind.

For those who haven't played The Last Of Us games, the first game mainly centers around two characters, an older man named Joel and a young girl named Ellie, and their growing father-daughter bond in a post apocalyptic world. The game opens in a flashback at the beginning of the outbreak (a mutated fungus called cordyceps, which is a real life thing in our world that infects insects but in the game can infect humans, and that when it infects hosts turns them into zombie like half human half fungus creatures... yes it is very weird but also kind of cool and a welcome departure from the standard zombie fare) where you are Joel's teenage daughter Sarah, and you are eventually joined by your father who takes you on the run but Sarah is eventually gunned down by the military who are ordered to shoot basically everyone on sight for fear that everyone is infected, which of course shatters Joel... and you jump forward some twenty to thirty years in the future and you find Joel is now a mercenary who does odd jobs to get by in this post apocalyptic world, where you have surviving factions warring with one another and are trying to keep the infected at bay.

To keep a long story short, Ellie is a teenage girl who is discovered to be immune to the fungus, and there is this faction called the Fireflies who are trying to find a cure so they hire Joel to take Ellie across country to one of their bases where there is a surgeon who can operate on her and hopefully will be able to find a way to turn her immunity into some kind of vaccine. At first Joel is against taking her, and keeps her at a distance, just seeing her as cargo, but over the course of a year and many struggles and difficulties, which test both of them to the limit, in facing it all and getting through it all together they begin to bond, with Joel beginning to see Ellie as a daughter and Ellie beginning to see Joel as a father. But when they do eventually reach the Fireflies, it turns out that the surgery required to extract what they need from Ellie would mean going into her brain and the process would kill her, but feeling that the death of one child would be worth it to possibly save the lives of millions, they decide to go forward with it, but make the mistake of telling Joel (as they feel they owe at least that much to him for bringing her all that way), and when he finds out he flips out and proceeds to kill them all to save Ellie. Ellie however is unconscious this whole time and after he carries her out, and they eventually return to this community that Joel's brother Tommy helped build, Ellie asks him what really happened but he chooses to lie to her, telling her that there was no cure so they were let go, and trusting him she believes him, even though you know in the back of her mind she has many questions, and you are left feeling conflicted as you know this man would go to hell and back for this girl because he loves her more than anything, but then he also isn't above lying to her because he thinks that will keep her safe, and his decisions, both his decision to murder a hospital full of people, including a few unarmed people, just to save one teenage girl, and then to lie to her about it, will come back to haunt him in the next game.

In Part II you jump about five years into the future, with a 19 year old Ellie now being the main character, and now your companion is your girlfriend Dina, and the game starts out more or less innocently enough with the two of you going on a patrol (the community has experienced and able-bodied people volunteer to go on patrols to clear infected from different areas as well as search for supplies) but eventually the game leads to Joel being murdered by a woman named Abby.  You play as Abby briefly earlier in the game but don't know much about her other than the fact that she wants to kill Joel and when she gets a chance she does so, and brutally, and with Ellie watching, which is needless to say heartbreaking. But as the game unfolds you find out why Abby killed Joel, as her father had been the surgeon that was trying to operate on Ellie, and not because he really wanted to, as he had a daughter her age himself, but because he felt he had no other choice, and in the first game Joel (or you playing as Joel, and that's something of a moral dilemma for the player) shoots him dead while he is unarmed and defenseless. Abby decides to spare Ellie out of some sense of compassion or because Ellie hadn't done her any wrong herself and leaves her, but after this Ellie, along with Dina, goes on a search for Abby, killing many of her compatriots along the way, until she faces off against her in a theater. The game then switches to Abby's perspective, flashing back to the beginning of Ellie's journey to find Abby and you see Abby's own journey, and you play through the second half of the game as her as she meets a sister and a brother who are part of an opposing faction but who help save her, and she tries to help the girl who has an injured arm get help (in large part as a way of trying to redeem herself as she feels guilt over killing Joel like she did and taking him from Ellie like Joel took her father from her), even though doing this eventually costs her almost everything, her community and the trust of her friends, only for the girl to eventually be killed... but then along the way she bonds with the boy, who turns out to be trans (formerly a girl), and he and his sister were on the run because their community, being a very strict religious group, wouldn't accept him as he felt himself to be so they left and are now seen as heretics in their own community. Over the course of a very crazy three days where they go through hell together Abby begins to develop a similar bond with the boy (named Lev, formerly Lily) that Joel developed with Ellie in the first game (though I think it is more of a big sister little brother kind of bond in their case), and eventually all she has left is him (at one point she even tells him 'you are my people'), and when you come to the same point you left off with Ellie, he is the one that stops her from killing Ellie after Abby beats her. But the game doesn't stop there, as later Ellie leaves Dina on the farm they had built together to pursue Abby once again and finish it as she just doesn't know how to let it go, and finds Abby and Lev in Santa Barbara where they had been captured by slavers during Abby's search for surviving members of the Fireflies, and Ellie, after fighting her way through the slavers, releases Abby and Lev, only to face off against Abby again, this time with her having the upper hand against a weakened Abby, but at the very last moment Ellie stops herself from killing Abby and looks to Lev and then Abby and says 'take him and go' and then collapses on the ground in tears, and the shocked Abby quickly flees with Lev. When Ellie returns to the farm, missing two fingers after her fight with Abby, Dina has left out of frustration with Ellie because of her quest for vengeance, and she is alone, and wanders off alone, having ended her quest for vengeance but lost everything in the process except for her humanity.

Having laid out the basic storylines of the two games (and hopefully there will be a third, fingers crossed), one of the main themes in both of them is of moral ambiguity and how life can be such a mix of beauty and brutality. Throughout the games there are moments of tenderness and joy, like the iconic scene in the first game where Joel and Ellie watch in amazement when they run across a group of giraffes walking through a ruined city (animals are immune to the fungus by the way, so nature kind of makes a big comeback in this world), or a beautiful extended and interactive flashback sequence in the second game where Joel takes Ellie (who is obsessed with dinosaurs and space and is kind of an all around nerd in some ways) to this old abandoned museum in the woods that has both a dinosaur and space exhibit as a birthday gift. But there are also many moments of violence and death, grief and loss, like when Ellie, screaming in a primal way, savagely stabs to death a pedophile who had imprisoned her, in the first game, or as I previously mentioned, when Abby murders Joel in the second game.

The games mingle sorrow and humor, grief and joy, beauty and brutality, very well, which I suppose is true to life, as life really is kind of a mixture of all of those things, and that fact seems more apparent now than it does at just about any other time that many of us can think of in our lives.

Now having talked about The Last Of Us game series I will talk a little bit about The Belgariad and The Mallorean and some of their themes, and then come back and try to talk about how the themes of those two universes connect and juxtapose with one another.

The basic concept of the two interconnected series is that when the universe came into being there was some kind of accident which took this one Purpose for which everything was created and somehow separated that one Purpose into two Possibilities or Necessities (as the books refer to them), one being Light and one being Dark, and these two Possibilities work through agents in the world of the books to try to unify the two Possibilities back into one Purpose. The chief agent of the Light in the books is the main protagonist, named Garion (and later Belgarion), who begins in the first book as a young boy, and eventually grows up to face off against an agent of the Dark, the maimed God Torak (half of whose face has been burned away), and after becoming a king in the second series he faces off against another agent of the Dark, Zandramas, in a final confrontation that will decide the ultimate fate of the universe. As heady as that all sounds, the books are filled with adventure and good humor and focus in mostly on the relationships between characters, and while much of the books are about the importance of prophecy and fulfilling it and under lies the tension between choice and fate, beyond that more than anything they are about love and the bonds between one another that give our lives meaning and purpose even if we're not sure what the ultimate meaning or Purpose might be of our existence (though for all we know they may be that).

The books though, while being a bit more black and white in their morality than The Last Of Us, do have some moral ambiguity, for example in how Garion feels remorse when killing his enemies, including the God Torak who cries out for his mother (the universe) upon his death, which points to the value of their lives even if they are evil (or mostly evil), or how all the characters have their flaws or shortcomings or problems and none of them are really perfect (although some characters seem to be predominately good or predominately evil so there is definitely a lot more use of traditional archetypes in those books than there seems to be in The Last Of Us games, where characters are generally more complex and individualized rather than archetypal).

The themes of love and relationships are definitely where these two very different worlds connect and parallel more, and I wanted to talk about that, but first I wanted to talk about the themes of choice and fate, where I think they may juxtapose more.

In The Last Of Us games, the characters find themselves in a post apocalyptic world that seems devoid of much in the way of meaning or hope, and there are no prophecies nor gods to look to for direction, or at least not in any way that is clear or obvious. In the first game Ellie talks with a boy her age that she befriends (who sadly becomes infected and has to be killed) about what happens to people after they are infected, if they still have souls or go to heaven, and both of them, having grown up in a world where this reality is all that they know, sadly agree that they have a pretty hard time believing that that is the case, and this is about as far as the game goes at least in any overt way into exploring any kind of transcendent reality beyond the one they are in. The second game explores these things a little more, like when Ellie and Dina find themselves in a synagogue and Dina, who is Jewish, talks a bit about her faith and the resilience of her people throughout history, and she talks a little about prayer and how it helps her sometimes, and at one point in your search through the synagogue you find a note in the desk of the Rabbi giving thanks to a lieutenant that helped the synagogue in the beginning of the outbreak, and at the end of the note he references this old saying: "It takes but one candle to dispel the darkness." I remember thinking that was a beautiful little detail they put in there, and appreciated how the synagogue is one of the few places in the game that is truly a sanctuary where there are no infected or even signs of violence and death, so it's treated as a kind of sacred space that you enter in at least temporarily, but then there is that unspoken implication that most if not all of those who were in the synagogue probably didn't survive the outbreak, which is sobering. Also in the second game Lev talks with Abby about his faith, even though his own community turned against him for being trans, as he felt that the original teachings of their founder, a woman who saved many lives in the beginning of the outbreak and later came to be seen as a prophet and whose writings came to be seen as scripture, were worthwhile and meaningful and he still stood by them and tried to live by them, but felt that his community had corrupted and twisted those teachings and had lost sight of what their founder had originally intended, which expresses the complexity of religion, which may have some beautiful ideas or concepts that are worth considering buried in them but because flawed and fallible humans are always involved in how religions are structured and expressed, there is always the possibility, or even the probability, of things eventually becoming corrupted or twisted so that the original message, which may be meaningful or have value, is mostly if not completely ignored or forgotten in favor of some bastardized version of that message that has all too much bullshit built into it (and trust me I know this from experience).

Aside from these examples the games don't really deal much with religion or spirituality in an overt way, though all of those moments of tenderness and joy throughout the games do at times point to some kind of greater meaning and purpose in life in spite of all of the devastation and despair and violence and death that surrounds the characters.

I think about the iconic giraffe scene in the first game, when Joel and Ellie are watching these giraffes stroll peacefully through the ruined city from the balcony of a ruined building, and Joel asks Ellie "Is this everything you were hoping for?" to which Ellie, after pausing for a moment, replies "Its got its ups and downs. You can't deny the view, though." Towards the beginning of the second game during Ellie and Dina's patrol Ellie says much the same thing when they are overlooking this beautiful vista of mountains and forest. This makes me think about perspective, that life, no matter how you spin it, certainly has its ups and downs, and no one can really deny that, but how you view life has a significant impact on how you experience it, so if you look hard to see the beauty and meaning in things you may find them, even if it is only in little things or moments that may be taken for granted or may seem inconsequential at the time, but on later reflection may grow in their significance. Of course that's just one way to interpret what she says on a deeper level, and it may not have been intended by the writers to be interpreted in that way, but it's something that comes to mind anyway (and I may come back to that later).

Anyway, the general sense in the games, in spite of those moments of beauty or meaning that can be perceived amidst the brutality and death, is that human beings are basically on their own, and all they really have to rely on is themselves and eachother, and there is very little in the way of guidance or help to be found from any higher powers or outside forces, if they exist at all, so there is only our choices, which may have either positive or negative outcomes or some mixture of both, and fate is just an idea that people read into a truly random world and universe.

The Belgariad and The Mallorean series of books, on the other hand, are definitely driven by prophecies and gods and fate is very much a reality, which sometimes leads characters to feeling as though choice, while being incorporated in some way into the fabric of reality, may not really be choice at all if you look deep enough under the surface. In the books, those two Possibilities of Light and Dark which I talked about before, play a kind of chess game with one another using gods and humans alike as their chess pieces, and the characters sometimes feel as though they are being led by the nose to make certain choices that lead to certain outcomes so one or the other of those forces can win out in the end. Of course the Light ends up winning out in the end (though the Dark seems to be incorporated into the Light with the Light now being the stronger of the two forces, or at least that was my interpretation of what happens), and essentially it's your traditional good guys win and bad guys lose kind of tale in that way, though the exploration of choice versus fate in getting there makes it at least somewhat unique, and unlike in The Last Of Us, the general sense of the books is that there are greater forces at work behind things, whether they be gods or forces even greater than gods that we can't even comprehend, and to some extent they are pulling strings in order to lead us on a journey that will bring us to some destination they have in mind, which again we can't even comprehend, and while choice may play at least some role in the details of how we get to that destination, that we will eventually get there some way, somehow, hell or high water, is more a matter of fate than of choice, and while that may leave you feeling conflicted about the idea of our free will not being as free as we might like it to be, at least there is some comfort in knowing that we're not on our own in this world and that there are higher powers or outside forces that we can look to for guidance and help.

As far as where I stand on all of this, the question of choice and fate, and on whether we're on our own or not on our own, honestly I can't say for sure, though I can say that playing through the Last Of Us games, which lean more towards the side of choice, and reading through Eddings’ series The Belgariad and The Mallorean, which lean more towards the side of fate, have given me some food for thought about those questions, questions that no doubt I will continue to wrestle with as long as I live.

The other theme I wanted to talk about, and which both The Last Of Us and David Eddings' books focus in on, is love and relationships and their importance.

I think in The Last Of Us games the characters are compelled simply by their deep natural human desire for connection and companionship (and whether that is simply biologically driven or maybe something more than that is left open to question), to try to foster love and relationships, whether familial or romantic or otherwise, which makes their lives somehow worth living in spite of how dark their world has become. In a number of cases throughout the games, when different characters you run across feel as though they have lost any sense of connection or companionship with others, they then lose the will to live, either becoming a shell of themselves and losing touch with reality, or simply choosing suicide instead of trying to go on with a life that no longer seems worth living to them, and those characters who do decide to keep going often only do so because there are people whose presence in their lives makes them want to keep living because somehow that connection and companionship is enough to keep them going.

On the other hand, in Eddings' books, people have the same drives for connection and companionship, but there is that implication that humans have been created by intelligent design rather than by random chance, which implies that those drives are built into people, and love and relationships between living beings are a part, perhaps even the central part, of the whole plan or Purpose of existence, so characters seem to be pulled towards that not only by their own inner desires but also by higher powers or outside forces (whereas in The Last Of Us games they only seem to be pulled towards love and relationships by their own inner desires and nothing more).

In other words, in The Last Of Us games, love and relationships are the meaning and purpose we more or less create for ourselves in an otherwise random and meaningless world and universe, and we are, for better or worse, essentially authors of our own stories, whereas in Eddings' books love and relationships may be the meaning and purpose that has been given to us by higher powers or outside forces, and we are characters in stories that are being written in large part by some author or authors, that are beyond us and our own perceived reality, and that are leading us and guiding us towards some Purpose which we may, or may not, be able to comprehend.

But either way you look at it, or perceive it, what brings us there or how we get there, for many of us, if not all of us, love and relationships are what, more than anything, give our lives a sense of meaning and purpose. That's not to say that nothing else can give us that sense in any way, as many people find meaning and purpose through their work or their creativity, or through the exploration of different ideas or experiences, for example, but then when you get down to it nearly all of these things connect back to other people (or if not people then maybe animals, or even plants, or what you perceive to be higher beings or God, or in other words you relate to someone or something that you feel you can have a two way relationship with), like who we are working for or who we are sharing our creativity with, or who we are exploring different ideas and experiences with, so I think for many of us, if not for all of us, we just can't find a real sense of meaning and purpose when we are completely on our own without any other living being or presence to connect with. Of course there is value in some solitude, where you can step back and take time to reflect, but then only temporarily I think, as never-ending solitude can drive many of us, if not all of us, mad in the end, because that desire for connection and companionship, whether it is there by chance or by design, and whether we like it or not, is somehow central to what (or whatever) it means to be human.

But even though I believe this is true, I realize that for many of us finding that love and companionship is easier said than done. Every human is flawed and fallible in different ways, often being driven by ideas or beliefs that, much like viruses, can infect people, infect their hearts and minds and can drive them to be hurtful or destructive to others or even themselves, and while there are of course some good ideas or beliefs out there (like, for example, that we should think about the well-being of others around us or that we should treat one another as equals) that can hopefully have the opposite effect and can help counter the bad ideas or beliefs out there (like, for example, that Covid shouldn't be taken seriously or that white people are superior to other people), there are still enough of those bad ideas and beliefs infecting people that it often makes this world a difficult and scary and painful place to live in and to find love and companionship in, and for all of us to some extent, though for some more than others to be sure, because sometimes it’s not just disagreement and tension with others that you need to worry about, but even your own safety when others hate you so much that they would prefer you didn’t exist.

That doesn't mean though that we should just give up on searching for love and companionship even under those circumstances.

In an episode of one of my favorite shows, Doom Patrol, a very weird and surreal series about a group of misfit superheroes that more often are focused on trying to get their shit together more than they are on saving the world, there is this exchange between one of the characters, Vic, aka Cyborg (who often feels like an outsider who has some difficulty connecting with others because he is part man and part machine) when he is asking a trans woman who is bartending for some relationship advice (well the set up for this scenario is more complicated but just trying to simplify it here as much as I can), and the trans woman says this to Vic, after sharing a story about a man that mistreated her on account of her being a trans woman:

'Human beings are cruel to people who are different from them... I let him know he hated the fact that I was human, just like him, that's what disturbed him, that we somehow breath the same air and walk the same streets, so much self hatred out there, and people turn that hatred on those who don't look or act like them. Life is short Vic, go where you feel love, and if that love is consistent, stay.'

I thought there was a lot of truth to what she said, about how humans are often cruel to those that are different from them, because humans often fear what they don't know or can't understand, or because you can't control it, thus it is perceived as a threat to you... and I think she is also right about how there is so much self hatred out there, and that we project that hatred onto those around us, and most especially those that we fear because we don't know or understand them or have any control over them. All that said, I think what she said to Vic about love is also true, that wherever you can find love that is consistent, you should hold onto it, because it is precious.

In other words, it may not always be easy to find love in the world we live in, and especially if we are among those outsiders that don't fit into what much of society considers to be 'normal', but it is possible to find, and probably if nowhere else than among those who can empathize with you, either because they have had a similar experience of life to yours or simply because they choose to (and I think that’s the ideal, when we can break past the natural human tendency to care only when something personally impacts you or when you have some personal connection to it, which I admit is something I’m still working on myself).

I recently watched a wonderful film called Jojo Rabbit, which a friend of mine introduced me to, and is about a German boy named Jojo during World War II, who, insanely though hilariously, has Adolf Hitler as his imaginary friend, and has childish and naive aspirations of joining the fight for the Third Reich when he grows up, but when he discovers that his mother is hiding a Jewish girl, named Elsa, in their home, this challenges him to reexamine all of his assumptions and beliefs about Nazi Germany and Jewish people and about life and reality itself, and eventually this leads him to reject all of the toxic propaganda (or the bad ideas and beliefs like a virus that were infecting him) that he had been filling his heart and mind with, and to instead learn the value of empathy and compassion. Elsa herself is also in her own way challenged to have empathy and compassion for this boy who represents the enemy that is trying to destroy her and her people, so both of them go on a journey towards understanding and caring for one another, as different as they may be from one another.

In one of the scenes where Rosie, Jojo's mother, is talking with Jojo, she tells him that 'Love is the strongest thing in the world.' He of course argues her point, saying 'I think you'll find that metal is the strongest thing in the world, followed closely by dynamite, and then muscles.' His mother smiles at this though, because I think she knows deep down that in time he'll figure out that he's wrong and that she's right, and in the end he does.

Sometimes it can seem as though love isn't the strongest force in the world, when it seems as though those who have the most power or use the most force are the ones who are more often than not victorious, and whether or not they are being driven by good or bad ideas and beliefs, and sometimes it can seem as though fear and hatred really have the upper hand, but love, as subtle as it may seem sometimes, is stronger I think, because our pursuit of it (and whether by choice or fate or some combination of the two) is what, more than anything, gives us some sense meaning and purpose in our lives, and I think at the end of the day that is stronger than fear and hatred, even as strong as they may seem sometimes.

Jojo Rabbit, even though it has its share of tragedy and darkness (because you couldn't really tell a story about Nazi Germany and all its horrors that doesn't at least touch on tragedy and darkness), ends with dancing and hope, and this quote from the poet Rainer Maria Rilke:

'Let everything happen to you. Beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final.'

This makes me think of both The Last Of Us and Eddings' books, in that characters in both stories go through so many different kinds of experiences, both painful and joyful, brutal and beautiful, terrifying and hopeful, but as long as they live they keep moving forward, through all the ups and downs, and whether driven by choice or fate or some combination of the two, they keep going and don't give up.

This also makes me think of what all of us are going through right now, what with Covid and the protests and everything that is happening in a world that often feels as though it is falling apart. We too in this world must face many different kinds of experiences and as long as we live we keep moving forward through all the ups and downs, some feeling it is more a matter of choice and others more a matter of fate, and still others like myself feeling as though it is some combination of the two, but then whatever the case may be, as long we live, and as long as we can find a sense of meaning and purpose in our lives, which for most of us, if not all of us, comes back to love and relationships, we keep going and we don't give up.

Earlier I talked a bit about our perception of reality, when talking about Joel and Ellie and their exchange in that giraffe scene, and when she said 'you can't deny the view', that our perception has a significant impact on how we experience reality, and it feels as though that is truer now than it has been at just about any other time in our lives.

I know that everything I have written here is only my own perception of reality, and of course my perception can be wrong or incomplete in some ways, if not many ways, and yet I try my best to comprehend this world that I find myself in, looking for truth and also for hope in it, and try to see the world with truthful and hopeful eyes as much as I can, even though I know that in being human, and thus flawed and fallible, my perception will probably never be (at least as long as I live) perfect or complete, because we are all a work in progress (and who knows what we are progressing towards) as we keep going through all the ups and downs.

Sometimes I find myself wondering if we are all living in some kind of simulation, or some kind of story, maybe not all that different from a game in the Last Of Us series or a book in Eddings' fantasy series, that has been designed or written by higher powers or outside forces, or maybe by us (because who knows, maybe we ourselves are gods in some weird way, or something we can't even imagine, who knows), or maybe by both, I don't know. And maybe we are a part of this simulation or story that we call life for some Purpose that we may never fully comprehend, at least not as long as we live. Maybe we are here to have experiences as human beings that help our souls (however one may wish to define souls) to learn and grow, which can presumably (at least if you, like me, lean towards believing in some kind of afterlife, or in life between lives if you believe in reincarnation) be carried with your consciousness beyond the simulation or story after death. For example, maybe there was some prior agreement in a world beyond this world that we would all go through this pandemic together as a kind of mass challenge that our souls could learn or grow through.

Or for another example, maybe someone like me is born in part as a white man to face the challenge of learning to humble himself by admitting that he has certain advantages in a world that is neither fair nor just, and then to try to work to make it more just and fair in whatever way he can, and then maybe there may be someone who is born in part as a black woman to face the challenge of learning to forgive those (who are often white people or men) who judge her and mistreat her and to resist the understandable temptation to return fear with fear and hatred with hatred. And perhaps there is a similar challenge for police and protesters. Perhaps police are challenged to recognize that they are in a position of authority (which is, at least in a way, like being in a position of privilege or advantage) so should be willing to humble themselves and recognize how they could be better and work to make things more fair and just from their position of authority (or privilege) rather than abusing that authority (or privilege), as well as to see the humanity in protesters and to hear them, to listen for the real and valid fear and pain beneath their chanting and screaming. And perhaps protesters are challenged to not resort to violence or give in and follow the path of vengeance but to try to find ways to effect positive change through non-violent and peaceful protest, and they may also be challenged to try to see the humanity behind those in uniform who are very easy to see only as the enemy or the oppressor, or as the nameless Stormtroopers of the Empire, when they, and regardless of whatever bad ideas or beliefs may be infecting some of their hearts and minds (and to be fair that may also be the case with some of the protesters, as that is the case with many humans in general, and probably all of us at some time or another), are human beings just as much as the protesters are, having fears and doubts, having hopes and dreams, and having families and friends that they want to get back to at the end of the day.

Either way the challenge is to be more empathetic and more compassionate, to treat those who are different from you as fellow human beings, whether you must let go of those bad ideas and beliefs that drive you to judge and mistreat those around you (like Jojo), especially those who are different from you, or whether you must resist your natural and very understandable desire for vengeance against those who hurt you, to hit back at those who hurt you by hurting them too, by sinking to their level (like Elsa). And either path may challenge your soul in different but equally important ways, which makes me wonder, if there is such a thing as reincarnation, if we live different kinds of lives, being different kinds of people, on each level that we play or on each page that we turn through this simulation or story, to learn different kinds of lessons.

But then honestly I don't know for sure, I don't know whether anything from this pandemic to the protests to the bodies and lives that we find ourselves in are either somehow preordained or random or some odd mix of the two, I don't know, and really this is all just speculation on my part, driven by my own personal experiences that seem to point to there being another reality behind or beyond this reality, as well as my desire to believe that there is indeed some Purpose we are all moving towards that is altogether joyful and beautiful and that is a true answer to whatever hope I have inside of me.

But even if none of that is true, even if that idea or that belief, that this world is some kind of illusion ( even if that illusion is one that serves some real purpose) is itself an illusion, and this world and this life is all there is and there is nothing beyond it (which I admit would be a depressing reality for me to accept, but if I die and that's it I suppose I wouldn't know the difference), there is still what we have right now, which is eachother, and those things that, for whatever reasons, we find beautiful or that give us joy, those things that give us that sense of meaning and purpose, even if they only exist with the finite framework of one human life.

For example, my wife and I recently lost our cat Roxy (who I recently wrote about in a tribute post that I posted before this one), which was hard and we still miss her, but a couple weeks ago we got a new cat that we have named Franny (my mom came up with the name, as she said Franny's meow was loud and verbose, kind of like the voice of actress Fran Drescher in the 90s television show The Nanny) and while she's a bit of a mischief maker and troublemaker sometimes being a younger cat and all, she's growing on us and just having her around helps takes some of the edge off everything that is going on in the world around us. Obviously having a cat isn't going to remove all the sadness and anxiety that I experience in my life, but it does help a little, and I know full well that just like Roxy there will come a day that Franny will die and I will have to face that day when it comes, but right now she is with us and it is one of those little things (which may in fact be a big thing in disguise) that helps give our lives just a little more meaning and purpose and helps us to keep going and not give up.

I remember one of the things that Jordan Peterson said that resonated with me (though there have certainly been things he's said that I haven't resonated with) was when he talked about the last rule in his book, 12 Rules For Life, which was Pet A Cat When You Encounter One In The Street. In the chapter he talked about his lifelong struggles with depression, as well as his daughter’s serious health issues (which fortunately she got under control eventually) which as her father were painful for him to witness as they made him feel helpless, but then he used the idea of petting a cat when you encounter one on the street as a kind of analogy for taking time to notice or appreciate those things in life that come along and encourage you or uplift you, even if it’s only just a little, things like petting a cat (or maybe watching giraffes walking through a ruined city), as taking time to do that here and there throughout your day and throughout your life will help carry you on your journey and will help you to, well, keep going and not give up, because life can be very hard sometimes, whether it’s in depression or if it’s in helplessly watching those you care about suffer and not being able to stop it, or if it’s times like this when the world seems to be falling apart, or whatever it may be, we really need all the encouragement and inspiration and help we can get. I know I do, and I also hope that even if only in small ways I can offer that to others, that I can be that cat on the street for others if you will.

Honestly I don't know what's going to happen in the world or what our future holds, heck I don't even know if anyone is going to read this (because it isn't in the form of a soundbyte or tweet... and yes I am well aware that I am long-winded, but then some things just take more time to express and unpack, whether we like it or not... but hey if you've read this far I commend you and thank you), let alone get anything out of this, but I do know that I want to have hope, because I guess I am stubbornly hopeful, or have learned to be that anyway, just for my own sanity if nothing else. I think hope is another part of whatever it means to be human, or it's another one of those traits that is decidedly human (well maybe cats have it too, as I kind of get the feeling that Franny is often hoping I will give her more treats... even when she doesn't really need them).

I don't know whether I've succeeded in being thoughtful and nuanced here or not, maybe some disagree with me with me on this or that, don’t like what I think about gender issues or Jordan Peterson and the IDW or government or Trump, think I am too serious about Covid 19 or not serious enough about it, that I’m too much on the side of the protesters or too much on the side of the police, too left or too right, too patriotic or not patriotic enough, too religious or not religious enough, too this or too that, I don't know, and I don't know if I have been able to express myself in such a way that those that disagree with me on this or that could at least see me as a fellow human that is just trying to find their way through this world just as they are, and that we could maybe agree to disagree on things or maybe even find some common ground, and hopefully enough to stand on together in a world that sometimes feel like it's falling apart.

I went from talking about my thoughts and feelings on huge issues of the day like Covid 19 and the protests of George Floyd's murder to my thoughts and feelings about the meaning and purpose of life because these things are all tangled together in my mind, whether it's riding on the bus with my mask on hoping I don't get sick and die at 37 (going on 38) and wondering what may or may not come after when I die, or whether it's the black lady whose name I can't remember exactly (but wish I did, and I wish I had hugged her) at the protest crying and hoping against hope that all of us could come together as humans and wondering if that will ever actually happen, because these things flow together in my mind and I try to fit them together into some kind of tapestry that makes sense to both my head and heart, and I have shared experiences because I am in the middle of all of this too because I'm a human like you, trying to figure this world and my place in it out as best I can, trying to love and understand people, even people that are different from me or disagree with me (or even people that sexually harass me and try to grab my crotch without asking, because maybe even screwed up people like that deserve affirmation from a Fred Rogers or an embrace from Jesus for all that I know). And I have danced around through themes and messages that I've found in video games and books and movies and TV shows because these decidedly nerdy things help give me some way to express how I perceive the world, or how I am trying to perceive it, and over the years on this blog I have tried to share things that have resonated with me or have made me think or encouraged me or inspired me or have helped me to keep going and not give up because there is that part of me that wants to help others, including those that are different from me or that may disagree with me (or that hurt me), because there is that part of me, some better part of me I guess, even for all its faults and flaws and insanity, that loves this world that I live in and the other people in it, or wants to, and wants us to move closer to whatever Purpose we may be moving towards (with the hope that that Purpose is something glorious and wonderful that is worth moving towards), or if nothing else to be able to find as much meaning and purpose as we can create and pull together in a world that sometimes, if we're honest, just doesn't make any damn sense.

I write these blog posts of mine partly for myself, as a way of trying to process my thoughts and feelings about my life and the world I live in, and I sure as hell need a little help with processing things with everything that is going on around me right now. I know these posts are often long and rambly and probably more or less pretentious, but I write them anyway, because I like to write and it helps me, and I figure I can share it in hopes that maybe I will make some kind of difference in someone's life, maybe be that street cat for them in the moment to help carry them along a bit, like others have through their writings (which sometimes were also long and rambly and more or less pretentious) done for me.

I don't know if I've come any closer to unraveling the mystery of whatever it means to be human in Part II than I did in Part I, but maybe (as cliche as this may sound) it's not so much about the destination as it is the journey, that there is something to just trying, searching, reaching, longing, hoping, and maybe that also applies to whatever meaning there is to be found in life or whatever Purpose we may be moving towards, works in progress that we are, maybe it's not so much about getting there but trying to get there, I don't know.

I don't know a lot of things, much more than what I do know, that's for sure, but I do know this:

I hope that, whoever you are, and wherever you are, whoever and wherever we are, that we can get through all of this, through everything that's going on, through world shaking pandemics and soul searching protests and complexity and beauty and brutality and choice and fate and love and fear and hate and hope and insanity and street cats and life and eventually death and whatever may or may not come after, all of it, together, because hey, whether we may know it or not, or feel it or not, another of the few things I do know (compared to the many things that I don't) is that we're not alone (and I think that's another part of whatever it means to be human too).

Stay safe, stay strong, keep going, and don't give up.

[kayincolwyn]

In Memory Of Roxy

Yesterday my family and I sadly had to say goodbye to our beloved family cat Roxy, whom we have had in our family for about 16-17 years, nearly half my life.

Within the last week she got very sick and went downhill quickly, and she showed all the signs of fading away that we've seen in cats of her age that we have had in the past, so rather than prolonging her suffering we decided to take her to the Humane Society to have her put to sleep yesterday. Sadly because we are still in the midst of a global pandemic I wasn't able to be with her in her last moments like I wanted to be, but thankfully she was quiet and calm when we gave her over, and they said it went smoothly and she didn't struggle. We believe she was ready to go, and that gives us some comfort.

I realize that losing a 'pet' in the midst of a global pandemic and widespread civil rights protests, all of which are of course important and need our attention, seems small and inconsequential, and I can understand that as I know others are having to face far more pain and loss than I am right now, and no doubt some would say 'well she's just a cat'. Trust me, I know that the timing of this is crazy, as having to deal with the weight of everything that is going on around me as well as my grief is just surreal for lack of a better word, and I know that there are those who see animals as having less importance or value than human beings, which I can kind of understand at least to a point (even though I don't wholly agree), but then in my experience you can love an animal as much as you can a person, if not exactly in the same way, and you can certainly grieve for the loss of them as much as you can for the loss of a person, as I know from experience

C.S. Lewis, the author of The Chronicles Of Narnia, once said this when speaking of love:

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

I agree with Lewis here, that, and whether we like it or not, with love comes vulnerability, and if we want the joy of bonding with another person, or even with an animal, we must accept also the potential grief of losing them, as we inevitably will lose both humans and animals that we love at some point in our lives. That vulnerability, that potential grief, is all part of a package deal that just we have to accept as best we can if we choose to love. Love and loss must go hand in hand in this world that we live in as difficult as that reality may be.

With all of that said, I just wanted to tell you a little about Roxy.

Like my dog Shasta (who I also wrote a tribute for a few years ago), we inherited Roxy from my aunt Stephanie after she passed away when Roxy was a kitten. Stephanie bought Roxy at a pet store, and I think she named her after the song Roxanne by The Police. Roxy stayed with us in our trailer along with Shasta and my sister's cat Smokey (who passed away last year at about the same age as Roxy) for about the first ten years of her life, and I admit to my regret that I didn't pay as much attention to her or bond with her as much then as much as I did with Shasta or Smokey, as she was at that time more standoffish and something of an 'ice queen', and there were times I would lash out at her in anger, and I feel that I ignored her far more than she deserved.

But about seven years ago when we moved out of our trailer and into our apartment where we now live, with my sister taking Smokey with her and with my dad helping Shasta find a new home (as we couldn't take Shasta with us) with some friends of his on the coast, we took Roxy with us, and once she got over the usual anxiety of being introduced to a new home, she began to blossom in ways that she hadn't before. I think we realized overtime that she had been more standoffish and 'icy' because she didn't like having to compete with other animals and was more comfortable having the place to herself, so for the next seven years we let her 'rule the roost' so to speak, and she opened up more and became more affectionate, and my mom and I bonded with her more overtime, and when my wife Kaylyn moved in about a year later she bonded with her more as well.

Roxy could be something of a 'diva' at times, demanding our complete attention, but she could also be very sweet, and she was often quirky and silly, and as many animal lovers will talk about, overtime we developed our own little traditions with her, like her love of sitting in front of the heater while eating some goodies, also known as 'heats and treats', or 'Sunday dinner' when we would give her a can of wet food as a special weekly treat which she was always ecstatic about, or how she loved to lay in between my mom's legs when she was sleeping in bed, or lay on my lap while I was watching movies or shows or writing or chatting with friends on my laptop on the couch in our living room, or how she would greet me at the door almost every night I came home from work, waiting and hoping for more treats, or how she would 'help me' with my exercises by plopping on the floor next to me while I was working out in my room, or how she would plop on the floor in the midst of gatherings of family or friends at our place, as if saying 'look at me', or some of her favorite sleeping spots in our apartment (or should I say her apartment), including my 'Tardis' (or should I say her Tardis), a Doctor Who throw blanket that Kay bought me a few years ago, which she often laid on while Kay and I hung out together in our room, keeping us company, or how Kay and I would refer to my mom as 'grammy' or to ourselves as 'mom and dad' and would call her our 'fuzzy daughter'.

There were all of these traditions, and more, that we developed over our seven years with her here in our little two bedroom apartment, and her presence and these moments with her would make us smile or laugh or would give us a little more joy than I believe we would otherwise have, and while for the first half of her life I admit that we may not have appreciated her as much as she deserved, in the second half we realized what a wonderful little soul she was and really bonded with her and were grateful that she was a part of our lives.

Roxy seemed to be very healthy for her age, and looked very good for her age as well, even to the point that I had begun to call her 'the Sophia Loren of kitties', and I had hoped that she would be one of those very rare cats that made it into her twenties, but I knew her time would come someday and with her age that it could come anytime, though I wish we had had more time with her, and as many animal lovers will say, I wish that she could live longer, as long as us 'hoomans' can live.

After Roxy was put to sleep she was wrapped in my Tardis (her Tardis, now and forever) blanket and placed into a sealed canvas bag that the Humane Society gave us, and then my mom and I took her up to my dads place out in the country up in Washington, and we buried her in a garden area behind their house, under an open sky and next to a fence with a big beautiful green pasture behind it. We also sprinkled some of our friend Bryan's ashes in the grave with her, as our friend Bryan (who passed from cancer about three years ago, and who I also wrote a tribute for) had a special bond with Roxy and she with him whenever he came over to visit us, so we think he would have appreciated if some of his ashes were left with her.

These last few days have been hard for me I admit, especially knowing that I was somehow, in the words of my wife, 'her favorite human', with her wanting to be around me more than any of us, but with that honor I also bonded with her the most I think, so I have been doing a lot of crying the last few days, which is unusual for me, and it has been hard letting her go, and like I was telling a friend a little while ago, it now feels like a part of our home is missing.

A couple nights ago with the encouragement of my friend Annie (who also sadly recently lost her cat Paws) I took about an hour to just hold her in my lap and tell her how I felt about her, apologizing to her for all of those times that I was mean to her or ignored her, especially in the first half of her life, thanked her for being with me for nearly half my life and for all the joy she had given me and telling her how much I loved her and would miss her, and just crying over her while she burrowed quietly in my lap, not understanding my words but maybe understanding how I felt about her on some primal level.

It was still hard to let her go, but I tried to do my best, and am still trying. But I am grateful for the time that I and my family did have with her, and for all the ways she enriched our lives. I also hope that somehow she will live on in spirit. Like my family and I have been saying, maybe Shasta or Bryan or Stephanie were there to help her cross over into whatever spiritual realm there may be for animals beyond this one, which I hope there is. Maybe if all dogs go to heaven, perhaps all cats do too... My medium friend Claire Broad (the author of What The Dead Are Dying To Teach Us) told me, when I shared about losing Roxy with her, that 'She will definitely go into spirit.  She’s consciousness after all like we all are.  I’ve seen many spirit animals.  She’ll be with you still.'

I will try to take that to heart, and I hope that maybe I will see her again someday, somewhere, somehow. But until then I will try to be grateful for the time I had with her, and will try to let her go and move on as best I can. My wife and I are hoping to eventually get another cat after we have had some time to grieve, but we will always remember Roxy and the time we had with her.

So again I know well that compared to the enormity of everything that is going on in our world today that losing an animal can seem like such a small thing, but even so for us it feels like a big thing, and I am grateful to everyone who has offered their condolences and support to us through this, it is much appreciated, thank you.

With all of that said, here is to Roxy, my silly and beautiful and lovable little  'fuzzy daughter', may you rest in peace and I hope that on the other side you have all the treats and laps and love that you could ever want, and I and others will miss you until hopefully someday we meet again.

[kayincolwyn]

Whatever It Means To Be Human (Easter reflection, 4/12/2020)

As many others throughout the world have been pointing out over these last couple months, these are strange times that we're living in.

Back in December around Christmas I started getting sick, and in January I had to go to the ER for some kind of infection that was giving me a sore throat as well as a fever and headache, got a look over and a prescription for a week long course of penicillin which seemed to knock out the infection (and later got hit with a 1200 bill for that ER visit, because my insurance didn’t cover it, that I still need to pay back, which I was livid about when I first found out about it but now am trying to accept as best I can because I have bigger things to worry about). A couple weeks later I had a followup checkup (with a very sweet and very pretty nurse, so no complaints there) and I remember staff at the clinic being pretty jumpy about some virus over in China (now widely known around the world as the coronavirus, or Covid 19) that I honestly hadn't heard about before then, and they were asking me if I had traveled to China or had any interaction with anyone from there, and of course I said no, and I remember being kind of annoyed by their jumpiness at the time. Well, needless to say, now I can see why they were being so jumpy.

I've had some kind of bug or another off and on since then, like a lot of people do in the wintertime, but because of, well, 'everything that's going on' (a phrase I've been using and I've heard a lot of people using lately, like it's become some kind of collective cultural meme) I find myself worrying much more than usual about a little cough or stuffy nose or feeling a little under the weather. At first, like a lot of people, I thought this was no big deal, that it would be another of those diseases that infected a few people but would be quickly contained, and then when that didn't happen I thought, like a lot of younger folks, that I would be fine and just needed to worry about older folks that I care about, but now I know that I could potentially be taken out by this virus too, and even at the ripe old age of 37, so now I worry about myself as well as others, and I admit that, while I’m trying to be brave, part of me is scared.

Even with that worry and anxiety, and with the whole world changing so drastically in just a matter of weeks, I'm still working (with the realization that janitorial work has more value than perhaps I initially thought or felt) and still busing it to and from work and going to the grocery store as needed, while usually wearing my newly acquired neoprene half mask (with inserted filters provided by a friend) like armor, and while washing my bloody hands more than at any other time in my life, and while trying to boost my immunity as best I can with vitamins and supplements of various kinds. Strange times indeed.

I admit it's kind of odd to be considered an 'essential worker', to hear some even hailing people in my position as 'heroes on the frontline' or something like that, when for years I've felt that being a janitor was equal to being at the bottom of the totem pole, and over the years I have on occasion been made to feel less than by others because of my place on the totem pole (though to be fair I've also received my share of gratitude and kindness from others concerning my work as well, which I'm thankful for and appreciate). I mean, I don't really see myself as particularly heroic (I see doctors and nurses and other healthcare workers who are directly risking their lives in order to save others as far more heroic than myself, for example), but just as a guy trying to do his job in order to provide some service to others while also making a living, but I appreciate the validation nevertheless.

As an 'essential worker' (though even among 'essential workers' I still feel like I'm at the bottom or at least near the bottom of the totem pole), I just want to say that I feel that we all have a part to play in this world, that we all have something that we can contribute to the world, even if it may not seem like much.

Like I have seen some people online ragging on celebrities for trying to entertain others from the safety and comfort of their homes (with many of them being out of work at the moment for obvious reasons) but I would say that trying to entertain or encourage others in whatever way you can, even from a distance, can be meaningful and has its place, because we could all use a little entertainment and encouragement sometimes. I mean, for example, people out there can rag on Gal Gadot for trying to sing Imagine with a bunch of other celebrities who may or may not have any musical talent or ability in some online video, but even as cheesy and cringe-inducing as that may be, I still loved her as Wonder Woman (and through that role she has inspired many people, including many young women and girls) and I appreciate her desire, as well as the desire of everyone in that video, to uplift others in some way. Heck, even just trying to stay home as much as possible, trying to keep your distance from others, trying to be mindful of others, as she and many other celebrities as well as everyday people have been and are doing, in this time can be meaningful and shouldn't be completely discounted.

And to me it's not about being 'essential' or not, or 'heroic' or not, it's just about being human, and doing what you can to be a decent human in whatever way you can.

Of course being human is hard, as every human, no matter who they are or where they are, gets their share of suffering and sorrow in some way or another or at some time or another in their lives (though to be fair some certainly do seem to get a bigger share than others, and some comparatively less), and being a decent human is even harder, as it's often a challenge to do some good or do the right thing with all your faults and flaws and with all your limitations and shortcomings, and then going above and beyond that and being someone that most others would think of as a 'saint', well, that seems nigh impossible.

And what does it mean to be human anyway?

I guess that brings me to something that's been on my mind, and is on my mind more now what with it being Easter and having Jesus on the brain a little more than usual (hey, you can take the boy out of the Christianity but you can't take the Christianity out of the boy).

In times like this where the world is shaken up and we're in a semi-apocalyptic state of mind, where our mortality not just individually but collectively is more in question than usual, the question of what it means to be human looms large for many of us, along with those often asked questions about where we come from, why we're here, where we're going... you know, the usual fare.

Lately I've been reading some books by former evangelical Christians, including Unfollowed by Megan Phelps-Roper, granddaughter of Fred Phelps, founder of the infamous Westboro Baptist Church, as well as books by Frank Schaeffer, son of Francis Schaeffer, an influential evangelical thinker and theologian.

Being a former evangelical Christian myself who is trying to find his way after questioning and deconstructing and for the most part walking away from that way of seeing and operating in the world, I can resonate with much of what they have to say and share, like the pain and loneliness there is in walking away from a community that you can no longer agree with to try and find your own path, or how with freedom to think for yourself comes an uncertainty that you have to get used to because now it's on you to decide what you will believe and where you will stand rather than just following what others have taught you or told you, or the mixed feelings about who you were and where you were when it wasn't all bad and it's part of who you are today and even while you don't want to, and really can't, go back, you're still grateful for it somehow.

And in their books they both wrestle with what it means to be human, what it means to be a good person, with the value of life and the value of love, because those questions and concerns still matter to them whether God or some higher power exists or not, just as they still matter to me on some level.

I've also been thinking a bit about Fred Rogers, better known to the world as Mister Rogers, the widely beloved children's TV host, after watching the recent film which stars Tom Hanks as Rogers, A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood, as well as the documentary Won't You Be My Neighbor?, and listening to a podcast about him called Finding Fred.

My late friend Erin McCarty was a big fan of Fred Rogers (I even sent her this Mister Rogers t-shirt that I found at a thrift store which she wore proudly in some of her photos on Facebook) whom she saw as a real saint, and she was far from being alone in thinking of him as one. Fred Rogers was one of those people who seemed to go above and beyond just being a decent human, as he was by all accounts a highly exceptional human, who, while having his share of quirks and eccentricities, more than most dedicated his life every waking hour to pursuing the good and showing love to others (and most especially children, whom he could be thought to be the patron saint of if he were canonized as a saint I should think) and even in such a way that no one with a sound mind and clear conscience could find any fault in him.

Those closest to him knew that he at times struggled with feeling inadequate, with feeling as though he wasn't really making a difference in the world, like what he was doing wasn't enough, but even so he continued to move forward, continued to try, an artist whose art-form was kindness and empathy (or as that podcast Finding Fred put it ‘a genius at empathy’).

I remember I was talking with a friend of mine about Fred Rogers the other day and he said that he thought if there was anyone who could perhaps have been the second coming of Christ it was Rogers, and while some might think that sentiment a little sacrilegious, I think it's a testament to the respect many people have for the man's character. People may on occasion playfully mock Mister Rogers for some of his mannerisms, for the way he talked or dressed or otherwise expressed himself (though of course much of that was for the sake of the children he was communicating with), but if you were to ask anyone with any sense at all they would admit that he was, if nothing else, a good man.

I guess the same could be said of Jesus, whose teachings about life and love Fred Rogers, being a Presbyterian minister who took his faith seriously (even if he was kind enough and wise enough not to push it on others as many religious folks tend to do unfortunately), sought to follow and apply to his own life as best he could. Many have parodied Jesus in one way or another over the years (in fact the next book I'll be reading just in time for Easter is Lamb: The Gospel According To Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal, which I look forward to reading as it sounds like fun) but most would agree that he was, if nothing else, a good man. Even the beloved comedy group Monty Python, most of whom were agnostic or atheist, after studying the gospels in preparation for what would eventually become their classic comedy Life Of Brian, decided against making a film where they mocked Jesus but instead made a film that mocked the church that often failed to follow his example. Instead of focusing on Jesus in the film they decided to focus on a guy named Brian who was mistaken for Jesus, following him on all of his adventures (or misadventures), while occasionally showing the real Jesus respectfully somewhere in the background (much as was done in the film Ben Hur). They said their reason for doing this was that they couldn't help but appreciate much of what Jesus said and did in the gospels, or as they said in their decidedly British way 'you can't take the piss out of it'.

As Frank Schaeffer points out in his book Why I Am An Atheist Who Believes In God (which I thought was a pretty clever title, and one I can kind of resonate with as I’m somewhere in the middle like that myself), some things that Jesus says and does in the gospels, or at least is recorded as saying and doing, don't really make sense or seem inconsistent with the general thread of kindness and empathy that can be seen in Christ's teachings, and having read the gospels at least a couple of times myself (or at least a couple of their English translations anyway, where no doubt much gets lost in translation), I would agree. He wonders if maybe some things were taken out or added in, if the writers sometimes spun some things to bolster their own point of view (which humans tend to do unfortunately), or if some things were simply a result of 'the telephone game' as it were (with most of the gospels probably being written decades after the events that they chronicle took place so that's not really out of the realm of possibility), and he may be right (as much as many Christians out there, especially the more fundamentalist among them, who may believe that scripture is infallible and inerrant, would hate to admit it).

But whatever the case may be, there is still enough of that thread of kindness and empathy in Jesus' story and message that countless people have been inspired by it through the centuries since he was said to have lived and died (and at least according to the Easter story, risen from the dead), including people like Fred Rogers, and also including people like Megan Phelps-Roper and Frank Schaeffer or myself, who even though they no longer identify as Christian still see some value in Jesus’ example and teachings, or at least as they now interpret them.

Many still seek to follow that example and apply those teachings today, including in these very strange, and very difficult, times, trying to walk a path of kindness and empathy when the world seems to be falling apart. I can't really say for sure how much I'm doing that myself, walking that path, with all of my faults and flaws and limitations and shortcomings, but I would like to think or hope that I manage to do a little good each day and get things right at least on occasion.

The truth is though that many of us, including me, feel as though we don't measure up to the standard that someone like Jesus sets (or at least appears to set when you read about the kind of life he led), or even to the standard of someone like Fred Rogers. It just seems nigh impossible to meet that kind of standard. I mean I can't really speak for everyone who struggles with this, but I know that I have often struggled with wondering if I'm good enough, have debated whether I'm making a difference in the world, and have had doubts about whether I am even a decent human, let alone a saint. I feel like I fail or fall short in some way or another every day, feel like I don't care enough, don’t give enough, don't live big enough or love deep enough. Maybe some of my family and friends who see more in me than I see in myself might argue with me on this, but it's still how I feel sometimes, or even much of the time, and is a daily internal struggle for me.

But hearing about Fred Rogers, who some half jokingly (but also half seriously) would call the closest thing to a second coming of Christ that they can think of, having similar struggles gives me some perspective and comfort though, and it makes me wonder if even Jesus himself had such struggles, even if they may not have be written about, even if they were only written in his own heart, as blasphemous as the thought of someone whom many claim and believe to have been the Son of God, or even God in human form, actually struggling with feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt may be, but blasphemous or not that thought gives me a strange kind of comfort.

I remember in reading the gospels one of the parts of Jesus' story that resonated most with me was him wrestling in prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane before he was arrested. Just imagining him being scared and uncertain and agonizing in the dirt and just being, well, more human like me, because I've been there too, is somehow encouraging, because if that's God, or a representative of God, or even just a very good man, maybe it's okay for me to be scared and uncertain and to agonize in the dirt too, because maybe I'm not alone in that.

One of the things that Fred Rogers is famous for saying is 'I like you just the way you are'. In the podcast Finding Fred, the podcast host, who greatly admires Fred Rogers, sometimes expressed struggling with that idea, being a black man who has experienced a lot of racism, and also being someone who has been mistreated in a lot of ways by others throughout his life, he wondered how he could like someone just as they were when, well, there was so much wrong with some people out there. One of his guests on the show, another admirer of Fred Rogers, suggested that what Rogers meant by 'I like you just the way you are' wasn't that everyone was perfect in every way, nor that everyone's words or actions or choices should be condoned, let alone praised, or that people didn't need to learn or grow in different ways, but rather that underneath all the dirt and the muck of our imperfection, our imperfect words and actions and choices, and no matter how deeply buried, there is something of value, something of worth, some spark of the divine in us, which can never be completely destroyed, and no matter how much others, or even we ourselves, may try to.

Of course, much like the host of the podcast, many of us struggle with seeing that that is true of those whom many of us would call 'monsters', the murderers and abusers and tyrants of this world, the worst of the worst if you will, but then it appears that Rogers was able to look at people even like that and see something of value and worth in them, seeing something of beauty beneath all of the ugliness, or at least the potential for it anyway.

I think of another man that many could think of as a saint, named Daryl Davis, who is a black man that has made it his mission to try to befriend members of hate groups, including members of the KKK, not in a concerted effort to convert them to his way of seeing things necessarily but simply to give them something to think about through their just knowing him. He has helped many to walk away from the KKK and other such groups simply by extending the hand of friendship to them, and he challenges others to try to break down divides by seeing the humanity in others, including those who are different from us, or even those who hurt us or frighten us.

I also think of Fred Phelps, who was the founder of the infamous Westboro Baptist Church, and who has become an icon of religious hate to many, and what his granddaughter Megan wrote about him in her memoir Unfollowed, how even though to most people he was a terrible human being, even a monster, to her he was her 'Gramps', whom she loved dearly even if looking back she knows that he got a lot of things wrong, and she spoke of how towards the end of his life when he was falling into dementia that he softened considerably, and even to the point that his own church effectively excommunicated him and abandoned him in a retirement home, where Megan and her younger sister Grace, who had recently left the church (and at great personal sacrifice to themselves), snuck in without permission from their family to see him one last time, and Megan says he was mostly lucid at that time, and instead of reproaching them for having left the church he only expressed his love for them in the end. It seems that at the end of his life Fred Phelps didn't cling to his dogma and hate so much as his relationships and love, which is encouraging.

Fred Rogers (the other Fred if you will), whom Fred Phelps himself often mocked as 'a wuss and an enabler of wusses' among other things, even going so far as to protest at his funeral, would have been proud I think that Phelps had come so far at the end, and I am sure he would have said to him 'I like you just the way you are' and I think the humanity buried even in someone like Phelps was what Rogers was pointing to by saying that to everyone he encountered.

Frank Schaeffer spoke of his mother, Edith Schaeffer, in his book Sex, Mom, and God, in much the same way, even going so far as to say that even being straitjacketed by the limitations of her religion and its dogma she was a force of nature and he could see her humanity shine through throughout her life, especially towards the end when, as Fred Phelps did, she softened, and said that ultimately she was better than her beliefs, or that something in her, her humanity, rose above that.

And maybe that humanity, or that divine spark, or whatever you want to call it, was also what Jesus was pointing to and trying to call out, and whether that be in the everyman on the street, or in the seemingly irreparably damaged people that you may find in prisons (or even sometimes in governments) or even among the religious who can get so mired in their ideology and self-righteousness as to forget that spark within them or in others.

It may seem nigh impossible, if not flatly impossible, to live up the standard of what many of us think of as saviors or saints, but I think of a scene in A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood where Roger's wife Joanne says that 'Rodg' (as she affectionately called him) wouldn't want people to think of him as a saint, as he believed that anyone and everyone could walk the path that he walked, or at least tried to walk, and in their own special way.

I also think of how Jesus said to his disciples that they would do even greater things than him, which when you think of the kind of example that someone like Jesus set, namely one where you are willing to die for what you believe in and stand for, that seems like a pretty tall order, but it makes me wonder if, as controversial as this may be and contrary to popular and widespread religious opinion that has been built up around him for centuries, maybe Jesus wouldn't want us to think of him as a savior anymore than Fred Rogers would want us to think of him as a saint, because maybe instead of putting them up on pedestals we're meant to try and follow their example as best we can.

I remember one of the guests in the Finding Fred podcast saying that maybe instead of just looking back on Rogers and his example with admiration and nostalgia, we could also try to be like Fred Rogers ourselves, much as those who seek to follow the way of Jesus (which Rogers himself was trying to follow) instead of just looking back can try to be like him as much as they are able, and in their own special way.

With it being Easter today as I post this, I honestly don't know whether or not Jesus rose from the dead, heck I am not even one hundred percent sure if he even existed (as there are those who argue that he didn't, even if most historians would agree that he did, though most of them think that most of what was written about him was just fanciful legend that was built up around him, which may or may not be the case, because none of us can really know for sure on that since we weren't there, and unless we invent time travel or something it will continue to be a matter of faith, and faith alone), but then I am willing to keep something of an open mind about it, and even with where I am now I can still understand why many look to Jesus as a symbol of hope and the love of God, and why people see something meaningful in the story of his life, death, and resurrection because even if it may not be literally true (and again on that front it is a matter of faith), that doesn’t mean it isn’t mythically true. Whatever the case, I believe that his example and message of kindness and empathy lives on (even if one has to dig through a number of inconsistencies and mistranslations to find it), much as Fred Rogers’ similar example and message lives on.

And I guess this brings me back to 'everything that's going on', and the question of what it means to be human.

One of the things that a lot of people have been saying through this crisis that all of us in the world are facing is that 'we're all in this together' and I think it's safe to say that there's nothing quite like a pandemic to remind us of how much we value our relationships when we are having to keep our distance from others, including those we love, for our good and theirs, and when we are fearing for not only our own health and our own life but also for the health and lives of others.

I recently watched the film Contagion, which came out about ten years ago, and many are seeing it as eerily prophetic as much of the film parallels what is happening now, but one of the underlying messages of that film, as one of my favorite Youtubers, Like Stories Of Old, pointed out, is how much our relationships matter, how much those connections that can so easily be taken for granted matter, when we are faced with existential threats such as the one we seem to be faced with now. More likely than not, as in Contagion, this pandemic, as bad as it may get, will not be the end the world, but it is certainly shaking it up and it appears it will continue to do so for awhile, and in the midst of that all we have for sure is eachother, even if we can only be there for one another mostly at a distance and in spirit.

In A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood there was a moving scene where Rogers says concerning death and how difficult it is to talk about it that 'anything that is mentionable is manageable', and I think the same applies to the situation we are in now, we can face this and face it together, because we're not alone in this mess, not alone in the dirt, even as lonely as it may feel at times.

Our situation is also a reminder (and is another theme in Contagion) of how connected we all are, especially in this globalized world that we now live in. A friend of mine here on Tumblr was telling me in a recent message how this whole situation shows how interconnected we all are, and how every choice we make can impact those around us and can have a domino effect, even having effects, whether positive or negative, that we aren't even aware of.

What he said reminds me of this passage from the classic children's book Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, which I finished reading for the first time just a couple days ago, where there is this exchange between the book's chief protagonist Milo, accompanied by his loyal companions Tock and Humbug, and the princesses Rhyme and Reason:

“It has been a long trip,” said Milo, climbing onto the couch where the princesses sat; “but we would have been here much sooner if I hadn’t made so many mistakes. I’m afraid it’s all my fault.” “You must never feel badly about making mistakes,” explained Reason quietly, “as long as you take the trouble to learn from them. For you often learn more by being wrong for the right reasons than you do by being right for the wrong reasons.” “But there’s so much to learn,” he said, with a thoughtful frown. “Yes, that’s true,” admitted Rhyme; “but it’s not just learning things that’s important. It’s learning what to do with what you learn and learning why you learn things at all that matters.” “That’s just what I mean,” explained Milo as Tock and the exhausted bug drifted quietly off to sleep. “Many of the things I’m supposed to know seem so useless that I can’t see the purpose in learning them at all.” “You may not see it now,” said the Princess of Pure Reason, looking knowingly at Milo’s puzzled face, “but whatever we learn has a purpose and whatever we do affects everything and everyone else, if even in the tiniest way. Why, when a housefly flaps his wings, a breeze goes round the world; when a speck of dust falls to the ground, the entire planet weighs a little more; and when you stamp your foot, the earth moves slightly off its course. Whenever you laugh, gladness spreads like the ripples in a pond; and whenever you’re sad, no one anywhere can be really happy. And it’s much the same thing with knowledge, for whenever you learn something new, the whole world becomes that much richer.” “And remember, also,” added the Princess of Sweet Rhyme, “that many places you would like to see are just off the map and many things you want to know are just out of sight or a little beyond your reach. But someday you’ll reach them all, for what you learn today, for no reason at all, will help you discover all the wonderful secrets of tomorrow.”

While I think the main themes of The Phantom Tollbooth are the value of education as well as how you see and experience the world around you, I think this passage could also be applied to how we learn how to live and love, and how you follow a path of kindness and empathy.

It's a process to be sure, and we will all make mistakes along the way, but as Reason says, we can learn more from being wrong for the right reasons than being right for the wrong ones, and trying to apply what we've learned as best we can and holding onto our reasons for doing so is just as important as what we learn. And there's a purpose to it, to living and loving as best we can, and it can impact the world around us, it can be like a ripple in a pond that spreads out in ways we can't know or even imagine, and who knows, maybe it will take us to places that we couldn't have even dreamed of...

Maybe that's something to try remember whenever we get discouraged (and I know I do plenty, as I’m sure most of us do), much like Fred Rogers did, and perhaps even Jesus did, and when wondering whether or not we have cared enough or given enough or lived enough or loved enough, that even seemingly little things can have a great impact and can actually make a real difference in the world.

In Fred Rogers' last television appearance after 9/11 he spoke of how his mother said in times of crisis that you should "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” I remember in the Finding Fred podcast they pointed out how in that message he was speaking to the children who are now grown ups themselves, the ones who had watched his program as they were growing up, and he was pointing to their own humanity, to that divine spark within them, and calling them to become those helpers themselves.

Even in that instance Rogers struggled, as he was so shaken by the enormity of the events of 9/11 that he felt that nothing he said could really help, and yet many, including myself at the time, even not being as familiar with Fred Rogers then as I am now, as I hadn't really watched his show growing up myself (I was more of a TMNT and Transformers kind of kid back in the 80s), were encouraged by what he had to say, and it made an impact, it made a difference. It helped.

And we can help too in our own way, and even if we too may feel shaken up by the events of our own time, these strange times that we're living in, we too can make an impact and a difference, we can help in some way, and however small and inconsequential what we may have to offer may feel, and whether it may feel decent or good or 'essential' or 'heroic' enough or not, we can help, and even if we may not know that we are helping.

As far as the answers to some of those big questions, like where we come from, why we're here, and where we're going, honestly I'm not sure what the answers may be, I mean I have some guesses, but I don't know with absolute certainty (and I'm having to learn to live without that anyway, even as I try to look forward with some hope and look back with some gratitude), but whatever it means to be human, I think it may have something to do with doing what you need to do even when you're worried and scared, with trying as much as you can to lift up others when they're down or maybe even when you're down, with the value of life and of love, with not being alone in the dirt, with seeing some measure of value and worth in jaded and cynical adults as much as you may see it in children, with extending the hand of friendship, and maybe even to those that are different from you, or looking for the humanity even in those that hurt and frighten you, with somehow loving those that others may only see as irredeemable monsters, with seeing the light in someone even if they are held back by things that limit and hem them in, with not insisting that others put us up on pedestals whenever we do some good or get something right but that they try to do the same themselves as best they can just as we are trying to do, with learning and growing in every way we can, with facing difficult times together, with trying to encourage and support and help one another, and even as imperfect as we may be and are. Maybe it has something to do with all of that.

I hope that we'll get through these strange times, that we'll not only survive them but that this may also push us to change some things for the better, that this will push us forward somehow, through death towards resurrection, that this will remind us of our humanity, that spark within us, and while I don't really know why we are in these strange times, or why 'everything that's going on' is going on, really I do hope that in the end it will move us a little closer to finding out, both for ourselves and for eachother, what it means to be human.

[kayincolwyn]

Trying To Find My Way In This Weird And Wild World

So it's been over a year and a month now since I've written a post for my blog... or my blarg, or my bleh, or whatever this is that maybe only a handful of people will ever read, and that I mostly just write for myself to get things out and try to process them. I guess you could say I’ve been putting it off for different reasons until now, and sure, I've had some ideas on what to write, and have had a lot that I've wanted to say, but, well...

Maybe I could explain it like this: I was listening to this guy on Youtube recently who was wondering if anything he had to say had any real weight, if he really had any right to say whatever he had to say, and he said something about how your words and ideas and beliefs may not have much value if they can't create real change, whether in your own life or in the lives of others. Or the proof is in the pudding as they say. I can relate to those reservations about what I have to say, here or anywhere else really, and I wonder how much real change my words or ideas or beliefs create, if any, and I guess that's part of why I've been putting this off, and is it even worth it to try to say something, when my words may have only very little, if any, power behind them? I've written a few things here and there over the last year, the occasional poem or reflection, mostly shared on my Facebook page, and I’ve wondered about those things too, if there was any real weight or value to them, beyond a few likes or a couple comments of affirmation from a friend or two about my writing.

And looking back on some of my older writings, like when I was in my teens or twenties, or even looking back on more recent writings, I sometimes barely recognize myself, the way that I thought and felt at the time, and there are times where I feel as though I come off in those writings as, well, kind of pretentious, or even arrogant (and especially further back), as though I am saying in them that I know and understand more about life than I actually do, which has been, and I have little doubt continues to be, not very much, or at least not with any real degree of certainty. The truth is I mostly use my words in writings like this not so much to speak truth (and how much truth do I really know for sure anyway, except the truth that I don’t know everything?) so much as to try to reach for the truth, to make sense of things, to try to hammer down the fluttering pieces of the puzzle of life, or at least of my life, to at least give me enough of a foundation to keep me from imploding or going crazy. I write partly for my own sanity. And I believe many of my words in writings like this are built on fragile hope more than solid confidence, meaning I am trying to point them in the direction that I want to move in, but that doesn't mean my actions always follow (if they follow much at all), or that I really live up to the vision of a path in life that I sometimes think about and talk about or try to lay out in writings like this. I may try to live up to it in fits and starts, but know that I fall short, and probably always will as long as I live.

I write about love for example, but love, at least for me, more often feels like some grand concept bouncing around in my head than something that I actually practice, or practice well anyway, that I genuinely manifest in my day to day life in the way that I wish to. It's like I can talk the talk with more confidence than I can walk the walk. The love that I show and give to others seems to be at best awkward, limited,  half-hearted, and more often than not selective (directed mostly towards those that I like but not much at all towards those that I don't like). Again, I fall short, struggling to practice what I preach. Because of this, this disconnect between what I try to express in my writing on the one hand, and then my everyday life on the other, sometimes I feel pretty disingenuous and fake. That said, even if I am at least in some part disingenuous and fake (and maybe all of us are more or less, as that may just be part of being human), I still feel like there is at least some part of me that is genuine and real, some spark within me that is reaching for something more.

I remember reading that the Catholic saint and theologian Thomas Aquinas once said, presumably after having some profound mystical experience, something like "I can write no more. All that I have written seems like straw.” After this, from what I understand, he held to that statement for the rest of his life and didn’t write anything else, or at least nothing with any seriousness. I'm not a Catholic so may not be able to relate to the context of his experience, whatever it was, but I can relate to the sense maybe that there is something more that would make all your words, and no matter how eloquent or heartfelt, like straw.  And I wonder if in embracing that something more, or being embraced by it, there would then be no more motivation to write, no more need to use my words to try to reach for the truth, or to try to make sense of things, or hammer them into some shape I can recognize as meaningful.  Maybe it would be something like what Saint Paul says in 1st Corinthians 13 in the New Testament:  ‘For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.’ If I could come face to face with such a truth, or a Truth with a capital T, and know it or be known by it, then maybe there would be no more words for me, or no need of them anyway... and maybe then I could truly be at peace, down to the core, balls to bones (as the Oracle would put it in The Matrix). That said, while maybe there have been moments in my life where I’ve glimpsed images or have heard whispers of that something more, that truth, I'm still left searching and reaching for it... And so I continue to write, or try to, words being what I have to work with here, and even if my words may only be like straw in the final analysis.

So for now, well, here's some more straw for you...

So I've had a lot on my mind over the last year, have had a lot of ups and downs. There have been times over the last year that were painful, and other times that were joyful, times where life felt meaningful and other times meaningless, and everywhere in between, as has been true of every other year of my life, but of course I can't, nor would I really want to, try to chronicle or reflect all that has happened or has been on my mind, but I can at least touch on some highlights, or try to grasp a few of the fluttering pieces of the puzzle and lay a foundation as best I can.

At 37 now and coming up on 40 in a few years I find myself wondering more and more about the direction of my life, about who I am and what my place in this weird and wild world is, what my path, my way, is or should be. I guess I’ll try to write about some of what’s happened, some of whats been on my mind, and try to give some idea of what my wondering looks like, so from here on I'm gonna jump around, between the highlights and fluttering pieces, though I will try to tie it all together in the end as best I can.

So, I guess I’ll kick things off by diving into some stormy waters right off the bat, by going into one of the things that has got me thinking more about my life over the last year, that being my discovery of Jordan Peterson. For those who haven't heard of him or don't know much about him he's a pretty controversial and divisive figure at least in some circles, mostly among those on the far left or the far right of the political spectrum from what I can tell. I admit I haven't really opened up much on social media about my interest in Peterson and his work for this reason, as I've been kind of afraid I might be jumped on for it by those who disapprove of him for whatever reasons, but then here I am I guess. I had run across some warnings about Peterson online before looking into him myself, and had some negative assumptions about him for a little while, but then I have learned from some experience, like I did with Harry Potter or Rob Bell back when I was in church for example, that if a lot of people talk about how dangerous something or someone is, about how you shouldn't read this book or listen to that person or whatever, then it's more likely than not worth checking out for yourself so you can make up your own mind about it rather than letting others decide for you what to think. I was still a bit hesitant, but fortunately a friend of mine coaxed me into finally checking out Peterson for myself by sharing one of his interviews on the popular Joe Rogan Experience podcast with me, and I was intrigued and impressed by much of what Peterson had to say in the interview, so my interest in Peterson and his perspective went from there.

The reason most of those who don’t like Peterson don’t like him is because of some of his political or social views I think, which is the reason why he really came into the public eye in the first place. Just to try to get some of the controversy out of the way and swim through some of these stormy waters, Peterson was a professor and psychologist in Canada who first really came to prominence when he spoke out publicly against this human rights bill in Canada called Bill C16 that, part of which, from what I understand, would legally require the use of certain gender pronouns for people who are transgender or non-binary or others who fall outside the typical dual identifiers of male or female. From what I can tell, getting a clearer picture of the kind of man Peterson is over the last year, I don't think Peterson protested this bill because he is just some bigot who doesn't care at all for transgender or non-binary people, but rather because it really bothered him that his government would try to pass any law that required the use of any kind of speech, not only telling people what they shouldn't say but what they should say. In short, from what I can gather this was more about free speech for him than anything else, or at least that’s his claim anyway, which some may disagree with. Of course the whole thing is no doubt more complicated than the little that I have written about here, and I am sure there is still much debate about all of this, whether on the bill itself or Peterson's take on it and his protest of it, but this is my understanding of the basics of it at least.

Peterson does seem, having listened to him a fair bit, to have mixed feelings about the whole transgender and non-binary thing. I don’t believe he would want to give the time of day to anyone who was transgender or non-binary if they accosted him on the street and started screaming and yelling at him, calling him names or throwing accusations at him (which I’ve seen in a few videos), as that doesn’t generally inspire empathy or understanding from anyone, but I do believe if anyone transgender or non-binary tried to connect with him one on one just as a human being to share their story he would more likely than not be willing to listen and I think would try to empathize and understand, as he honestly strikes me as a fairly empathetic and understanding kind of guy (even if he does have a bit of a temper, which he himself admits) someone who cares about the struggle and pain of others, and I believe that would include people who identify as transgender or non-binary. I mean, heck, the guy is a trained therapist after all, so you would think he would be willing to listen as long as you weren’t putting him on the defensive. That said, I think he has questions or concerns about it, and like many people is trying to understand in what ways society should (or shouldn't) shift in order to accommodate those who don't identify in ways that are different from what most are used to or consider the norm. I admit to having mixed feelings myself about this, though partly, I admit, because I don't know or understand much about it, though I would be open to learning more. I admit I have some reservations about things like children transitioning (because I worry that children may not yet be mature enough to make these kinds of decisions, and that they may regret making such decisions later on because they weren’t as fully informed as they would have been as adults) as well as transgender women playing in women's sports, or transgender men playing in men's sports for that matter (because I believe in those cases there is an unfair physical advantage or disadvantage because not everything can be completely changed biologically in a transition, including things like muscle mass and bone structure, at least from what I understand), just as a couple examples. My heart tells me to live and let live and that it’s really none of my business, which is mostly how I feel about it, but my head sometimes wonders if going about these kinds of changes in society without thinking them through may end up having some unforeseen consequences. Of course I'm not above setting aside such reservations if others could convince me to do so, and by that I mean by making convincing arguments to support such things that make sense to me, rather than trying to shame or bully me into changing my mind, which some may be want to do, but trust me I’ve had enough experience with that kind of thing in my life, red flags go up all over the place when people try that with me, whether it’s in the realm of politics or religion or any other realm... let’s just say when I encounter people who are dogmatic and ‘my way or the highway’ in their thinking and want to evangelize and convert me to their position, well, I’ve learned to just walk away... not sure if that will keep people who disagree with me from just stopping here and passing judgment (even though from here I talk about empathy and understanding for transgender and non-binary people among many other things) and then going after me with torches and pitchforks, but hey, at least I’ve tried... and this, by the way, applies to everything else that I may write here that you may disagree with. Friendly or at least civil discussion about difficult topics is good and constructive in my opinion, but rage or personal attacks or a dogmatic insistence that I conform or else be put into your out-group (as I have experienced to some extent with), well, not so much. Anyways, despite those reservations I want to be empathetic and understanding  towards transgender or non-binary people, as I don't really know what it is like to be in their shoes or what they go through. Sure I can use my imagination some, i.e. watching shows like Sense 8 (great show, still bummed it was canceled) or even Supergirl (as cheesy as it is) that include transgender characters and some of their struggles, gives me some inkling of what it might feel like, but I honestly don't really know. I admit I've only interacted (or at least knowingly interacted) with one transgender or non-binary person, a co-worker of mine who was born male and now identifies as female. I call her her, and am okay with doing that, but it takes some getting used to I admit. I was a little uncomfortable around her at first, as it felt weird for me, and I still do to some extent I admit, but then having worked with her a little bit more recently, I can see that she's not a threat to me in any way and there's no reason to be afraid of her, and she's just another human being like me, who deserves a little respect and wants a little love and acceptance just like anyone else. Sure, like Peterson I would feel uncomfortable with being legally forced to use certain pronouns (in the same way I would feel uncomfortable if I was legally forced to salute the US flag, just for example), but that doesn’t mean that I’m opposed to it if it was something I could choose to do freely. Like Peterson (and many others) I’m not really a fan of thought police (which I have seen in religious circles and political circles and all kinds of circles), but I am open to changing how I think and feel for the sake of others and if it makes sense to both my head and my heart. I imagine that just as I used to be a little uncomfortable with gay people but have since learned to be more comfortable with them in spite of our differences, and now even have a couple of gay friends, in time I believe the same will be true of transgender and non-binary people or anyone else in those categories, who at the end of the day are just fellow humans. I just need some time to adapt and get used to it I think, and hopefully all of us will be able to adapt and figure this out (adding this to the excruciatingly long list of things that humanity needs to figure out), as it would be good to live in a world that is a little more inclusive and accepting of those who are different, and even if we may need time to figure out all the particulars and where to draw the lines and what the boundaries should be and all of that, which of course is complicated just as people are complicated. Bottom line is I think there should be some room for questions and concerns about this whole issue but it should always be in the context of trying to be more empathetic and understanding, because we're all human beings at the end of the day.

I won't go any further into this though as I'm not here to talk about the whole transgender and non-binary debate (though apparently I’m talking about it a bit, but hopefully not in a way that will get me crucified by those who disagree with my mixed feelings about it), which is very complicated and multi-faceted and has a lot of strong feelings about it on all sides, but I just wanted to at least touch on Peterson's stance (at least as I far as I understand it) about it as it was what brought him into the limelight originally, and my stance as well, at least to try to get it out of the way before I go any further.

Peterson strikes me as a bit right of center in some ways (although he identifies as a classical liberal), open-minded in some areas but a little old-fashioned and traditional in other areas, whereas I think of myself as a bit left of center I guess. Peterson talks about the value and place of both the left and the right politically and socially fairly often, like when he points out that those on the right are there to maintain structures and boundaries and keep things running (he also adds that conservatives tend to be better managers) but that those on the left are there to update structures or boundaries or push for change as it is necessary (he also adds that liberals tend to be better entrepreneurs), and there needs to be a dialogue between the two sides on when things should be kept the same or when they should change, and how.  That said, maybe Peterson at times seems to contradict this way of thinking when he focuses a little more on the problems of the left and doesn't focus quite as much on the problems of the right, which may be a sign of some biases towards the right on his part, even if at other times he seems to be trying to find that balance between the two. To be fair if he’s not completely consistent then neither am I, and it’s probably fair to say that not many of us are. Anyways, Peterson's tends to equate the far left, and things like identity politics and postmodernism, with communist or Marxist ideology, and I admit he does come off as a little paranoid at times when it comes to that, sometimes going on rants about communists and Marxists in a new disguise on college campuses and branching out from there into society. I can somewhat understand why he might feel as he does though when he immersed himself heavily for years in studying totalitarian regimes in the 20th century, including communist regimes like those in the Soviet Union and China, wanting to understand them on a psychological level. He sees equal horror in the history of both Nazism (more equated with the right) and communism (more equated with the left) in the 20th century, but perhaps he focuses on the threat of communism more because he feels that people don't talk about it as much as the threat of Nazism nowadays? Maybe, but I don’t know for sure. I recently saw a little note plastered on the inside door of an elevator in one of the buildings that I clean in downtown Portland that said ‘Fuck Nazis’ among other things, which is a message I would concur with, as I’m no fan of Nazis either, even if I’m not really sure how helpful such notes would be in dealing with the problem of Nazism. I wonder though if I will ever find any ‘Fuck Commies’ notes plastered in elevators in downtown Portland, if there are those who feel communism is just as much of a threat. I think I might have even seen a protester flying the hammer and sickle flag when I was going past on the max train the other day, which I found a bit weird to say the least. I wonder sometimes when listening to Peterson’s concerns if there really is as much concern about communism as there is about Nazism, even though both have had horrific and bloody histories that involved the suffering and death of millions.  I mean, isn’t there just as much of a dark history of violence and death behind the hammer and sickle as there is behind the swastika? To be fair though, maybe some on the right aren’t as concerned about Nazism as they should be, just as maybe some on the left aren’t as concerned about communism as they should be, as it’s much easier to focus on the potential craziness on the other side rather than the potential craziness on your own. Anyways, maybe when you immerse yourself in that kind of dark history it's no wonder you might come out feeling a little paranoid and would worry that history might repeat itself. Maybe a little too paranoid? Sure, you can always be too paranoid, like Joseph McCarthy Red Scare witch hunt kind of paranoid, in which case you might need an Edward R Murrow to come along and knock some sense into you, but then maybe a little paranoia is understandable or even healthy. That said, while I'm not really a big fan of identity politics (or political correctness as some would call it) myself and have mixed feelings about the deconstructive nature of postmodernism (I’m all for questioning things and for holding them to the fire but not so much a fan of completely pulling the rug out from under yourself so you have nowhere left to stand or of leaving yourself with nothing to hold onto), still I’m not sure about Peterson’s equating all of that with communism/Marxism, maybe a little paranoia is okay but not too much... though all in all this is really lower on the list of topics that Peterson goes into as far as my level of interest or even agreement goes, so I’ll just leave it at that. Peterson sometimes points out that people are complex, but also says that people can be beholden to their ideologies (their ideas and beliefs), and says that ideologies can have people rather than people having them (he references psychoanalyst Carl Jung on this point), and I would agree on both points, but would add that those who are beholden to their ideologies always have more to them than whatever ideology they may ascribe to, and there’s a spectrum to how beholden people can be to their ideas or what they believe in, and whether that be in the realm of politics or of religion or in any other realm, and of course people can change and can learn and grow, and they need to be given room to do that. I know I’ve certainly changed and learned and grown in different ways over the years.

I have known people from all walks of life, the religious and the non religious, liberals and conservatives, and everyone in between, and while there have been a few who were too radical and extreme in their ideas or beliefs for my taste, most people that I’ve known seemed to be more or less sane and reasonable, more or less decent people trying to live their lives as best they can while not having a 'my way or the highway' attitude towards others, not wanting to evangelize and convert others to their position but just wanting to get along as best they can and agree to disagree agreeably. Anyways, my guess is that Peterson would agree to this assessment, as I have often heard him encouraging nuance and dialogue between people of all kinds, though perhaps there are times when he falls into the trap of focusing too much on those who are a little radical and extreme, who are the minority, if the loudest voices in the room, and not as much on those who are more sane and reasonable, who are the majority, if a comparatively quiet majority ... But then again perhaps all of us sometimes fall into the trap of focusing too much on the loudest voices in the room, and not as much on the quiet majority of everyday people who can have meaningful conversations even in spite of their differences.

Anyways, for a little more context to all of this, and to focus in on another part of my journey over the last year, one of the things that led me to become interested in Peterson and his philosophy was watching a documentary called The Red Pill, which was made by Cassie Jaye, who once identified (but no longer identifies) as a feminist. I first heard about the film when a friend on Facebook shared this video of Cassie’s TED Talk called Meeting The Enemy, and I found the video to be pretty powerful and appreciated Cassie and her empathetic attitude, so I wanted to check out her film. In the film she explores the men's rights movement, a movement claiming to fight for the rights of men (much as feminism is a movement that claims to fight for the rights of women), initially planning on showing how misogynistic and absolutely nutters these men (and those women who ally themselves with them) are when she began making the film, but overtime found that some of what they had to say was thought-provoking and compelling and so she began to gradually change her mind about the movement and her own feminist ideas and beliefs, even to the point of no longer labeling herself as a feminist by the end of the film, though not taking up the label of men's right activist either, but instead letting go of such labels and simply wanting to care for the struggles of both men and women equally and encourage more empathy between men and women.

Much like Peterson, Cassie Jaye's film has been controversial and divisive, and while I felt the film was itself thought-provoking and compelling in some ways, thinking on it now I would say it wasn't a perfect film. For example maybe Cassie didn't look at the darker and more negative side of the men's rights movement as much as she could have, though in her defense, perhaps her goal in the end was to try to look at the other side of the movement in order to give a more balanced view, as the media generally only focuses on the darker and more negative side of things when it comes to this. I think the film’s limitations though may be mostly due to the fact that such broad and complicated issues as gender relations and gender rights, and more generally human relations and human rights, can't really be covered to the fullest extent in a two hour documentary. That said, I think Cassie's main underlying message in the film was that men deserve empathy as much as women do, because men are human beings as much as women are, and seeing men as less important or worthy of empathy is no better than seeing women as less important or worthy of empathy, and if we all really want to move forward and end the ongoing battle of the sexes then we need to learn to have empathy for one another, and I appreciated that message, both as a man and as a human being.

I admit though after watching this film I fell into the men's right activist mindset for a little awhile, losing some focus on that central message, and while I didn't dive in completely I definitely put my feet in the water, whether through listening to men's rights podcasts or watching men's rights videos on Youtube or reading men's rights articles online here and there, and for awhile I was very antagonistic to feminism, even arguing with some of my more feminist friends, seeing feminism not so much as a pursuit of equality between the sexes as it claimed to be but rather as a destructive ideology that sought to, whether consciously or subconsciously, divide men and women rather than bring them together. But after a little awhile I pulled myself back from that mindset, recognizing that men's rights activists, while having some valid points about men's issues, can sometimes be self-righteous and overly critical of women but not critical enough of men, just as I felt (and still feel) that feminists, while having some valid points about women's issues, can sometimes be self-righteous and overly critical of men but not critical enough of women. I think there are some radical and extreme people in both movements but also think there are a fair number of sane and reasonable people in both movements as well, and I hope the latter, those who care about the other side as much as their own side, get the microphone more in the long run. I believe now that neither movement really has a complete picture of the shape of things, and wonder why sometimes they don't just team up to try to hash things out and balance eachother out, try to find ways to move society forward for both men and women without demonizing one another or trying to one up one another's suffering, as though suffering were a contest, and who wants to win a contest like that anyway? It’s like when my sister and I would argue as kids about who had it harder or got bullied more in school when the truth was school kind of sucked for both of us, even if it sucked differently for both of us. Again, not a contest you want to win anyway. Do men have it harder than women? Do women have it harder than men? Yes and yes? Maybe it just depends on the situation and circumstance, or maybe it comes down to the level of the individual, but then all I really know for sure is that being human is hard for pretty much all of us in one way or another, so why not just try to empathize with one another as best we can instead of arguing about who has it worse? Easier said than done I know, but I suppose we could at least try.

I guess much like Cassie I have settled with neither identifying with feminism nor with men's rights activism, feeling that both feminists and men's rights activists have their valid points but also their blind spots, and feeling that both women and men have their problems and struggles, and also feeling that both deserve some measure of respect and empathy.

I've followed Cassie Jaye a little bit since watching her film, and I still admire her empathetic attitude, and her bravery in making a film that I'm sure she knew would ruffle some feathers (and it did), and she continues to be brave through sharing some of her own personal journey including some of her struggles on her online blog and elsewhere, even opening up about the turmoil and grief of having had two miscarriages in the last couple of years, which led her to abandon plans of doing a documentary on postmodernism (which would have included Peterson himself) and instead is considering doing a documentary about miscarriage, a difficult topic that is rarely discussed openly in society, and I hope she does as I imagine it would speak to a lot of women out there (as well as their partners) who have suffered through miscarriages. Reading about her own personal, and painful, experience with her miscarriages was a reminder to me that women struggle with things that men don't (or at least don't as much or in the same way), and are deserving of empathy, just as her film was trying to point out that men struggle with things that women don't (or at least don't as much or in the same way), and are deserving of empathy.

I admit for sometime after watching The Red Pill and diving into the insane world of gender politics, I was planning on doing a blog post where I would try my best to tackle gender relations and being a man (with the tentative title of Measure Of A Man) as I had tried to tackle race relations and being a white man in my post White Man about a year ago. I even began writing a couple of rough drafts, but then the more I dug into things the more complicated and hard to unravel it became, and I just didn't feel confident enough to really dive into the whole thing (and I didn't really feel confident enough to dive into the issue of race either in White Man, to be honest, but then I I tried my best I suppose, though I'm sure I only scratched the surface on that issue, and I may even go back at some point and try to revise it some as since then my views on race have shifted a bit, though they are mostly the same as when I wrote that).

I suppose going down the rabbit hole somewhat on this post (which is appropriate as Cassie used that metaphor, of being like Alice in Wonderland going down the rabbit hole, in her film) by touching on the whole transgender and non-binary debate (though I definitely only scratched the surface on that) and bringing up Cassie Jaye's documentary and touching on gender issues, will have to suffice for that, and as with Cassie the main message I want to put forward here is one of empathy and understanding, and on all sides, and as hard as that may be, as hard as it may be to back up these words with actions, because I believe that's how we will all move forward...

If this was just a post about gender relations and being a man as I had originally intended it to be, I could have talked about Peterson and his effect on many men throughout the world, and that would certainly fit. A lot of young men around the world, and men of all ages really, look up to Peterson, some seeing him as a kind of father figure, and I can kind of understand that appeal even if I may see him in a more complicated and nuanced way myself. I will say that Peterson’s core message of the importance of the individual and finding meaning through responsibility resonates with me a fair bit. I agree with him that the individual rather than the group is the level to really look at as it is really our individual choices that make or break our society (though to be fair some individual choices may impact society more than others, depending on the power and influence of the individual), and we shouldn't only focus on rights but also on responsibilities, because your rights are my responsibilities and vice versa.  And I agree that there is something about individual responsibility, whether that is in the realm of relationships or work or creativity or spirituality or pursuing some other passion or cause (or picking up a cross and carrying it as Peterson would put it, referencing Jesus) that can give you a sense of meaning and purpose that you otherwise may not have. In other words, while carrying too heavy of a load can crush you, and carrying too little of a load can make you feel aimless, carrying a load that is the right size for you can help make you into who you are meant to be. Not that I have found a way to apply that to my life as much as I would like, but at least it rings true to me. Of course that doesn't mean that groups don't matter, as we are all interconnected more than we can imagine, or that rights aren't important at all, as Peterson points out that rights give us room to exercise our responsibilities, but I wonder if Peterson sometimes doesn't focus enough on how that interconnectedness can positively or negatively effect our individual choices, or on how the system can hold people back from moving forward, from being who they could be, because sometimes no matter how hard you may try you can still be held back not so much by yourself but by your environment or your culture. That said I would agree that the level of the individual is the most important one because that is what you need to build up from, the seed blossoming into a tree, so responsibility shouldn't be forgotten or set aside, that and sometimes it isn't so much environment or culture that is holding you back as it is yourself. But of course the makeup of our lives is no doubt always some combination of both of these things, it is some combination of our own choices as individuals, and the choices of others around us and how they may complement or conflict with our choices, and the limits of nature both internally and externally which effect us all.

But beyond his message of the importance of the individual and of responsibility and how we can find meaning in it, I resonate with Peterson most of all when he he seems to be reaching for that something more, that deeper truth, which I was talking about (or trying to talk about) earlier in this post. I may only go along halfway with Peterson on his political and social views, which he admittedly does get a bit ranty on at times (though many of us do, including myself, so maybe we don’t have much room to judge), and I don't agree with him on everything in that area or any other area, but when he delves into the territory of psychology and philosophy (which he says he is more interested in anyway, and so am I) and religion and spirituality I find more common ground with him, and also find what I appreciate most about him. Peterson is something of an existentialist thinker (he is especially fond of existentialist Christian thinkers Fyodor Dostoevsky and Alexandr Solzhenitsyn) and is fond of Carl Jung and Jungian theory as well as well as other psychologists, like Freud and Carl Rogers among others, and believes in evolution and evolutionary biology, so he often speaks of religion and spirituality in those frameworks and contexts, but I can resonate with much of that, as both a former atheist and a former evangelical Christian who is trying to find his way.

I watched a recent interview with Patricia Marcoccia (on the Youtube channel Rebel Wisdom), director of the documentary The Rise Of Jordan Peterson, and she said she initially became interested in him for much the same reasons even before he was really in the public eye, and she like myself describes herself as left of center and has mixed feelings about his political and social views, so I guess I'm not the only one. As the saying goes, don't throw out the baby with the bathwater, and in the case of Peterson I honestly feel that there's a baby in all the bathwater of controversy and drama that surrounds him.

Over the last year or so I have listened to (mainly via podcast while working) probably hundreds of interviews with and lectures from Peterson, as well as reading his book 12 Rules For Life, and while there's a lot of his stuff that I haven't gone through yet (like there's a lot more interviews and lectures of his on Youtube that I haven't listened to yet and I haven't gotten hold of his harder to find first book, Maps Of Meaning) I feel like I have gotten a pretty good idea of the kind of man Peterson is and how he thinks and feels, at least from hearing what he has to say.

I believe Peterson is, like anyone else, just a human being with faults and flaws, who has his weaknesses and blind spots and can make mistakes and get things wrong like anyone else, but there are times in his interviews or lectures when you can see (or hear if you are listening in a podcast as I often do) him reaching, trying to gather the fluttering pieces of the puzzle and build a foundation, and you can see or hear the emotion well up in him when he is trying to find words for something that words maybe can’t quite describe, something that would make your words seem like straw.

Peterson describes himself as a pessimist for the most part, and he says that life is in large part suffering tainted by malevolence, but he also says that underneath that pessimism is a faith in humanity, a faith in that divine spark within us that enables us to overcome and persevere in some amazing ways, and he has a faith in the power of love, which he describes as the sense that life truly matters and is worth living in spite of all the suffering and evil in the world, and as a desire that things would be the best that they can be, that things would be truly good, for you and for others and for the world, and individual responsibility is in part acting on that sense and that desire in whatever way you can to bring that vision into reality (or at least in my case to connect what I write more with my day to day life). At bottom I think Peterson believes, as he tries to say this himself when he is reaching for words to describe it, that the darkness in the world and in ourselves is powerful, very powerful, so powerful that he feels it unwise to deny its power and not talk about it openly, but even so the light in the world and in ourselves is even more powerful, and in the end is greater than whatever darkness there may be... and I can resonate with that belief.

And I believe Peterson is, even with whatever faults and flaws he has, a decent human being, or he is trying to be one anyway. As an example of this, when Peterson was at Liberty University, a well known evangelical Christian college run by Jerry Falwell's son, a young man who was struggling with mental and emotional issues and was off his medication, ran up on stage trying to approach and talk to Peterson, and when he was restrained by security he fell to his knees crying, having a breakdown. Peterson was confused by what was happening at first, but once he realized what was going on he came over to the young man, knelt down, and tried to comfort him as the other men on stage prayed over him. I honestly don't know for sure how much the other men on stage truly cared for this young man or how much they were at least subconsciously using him to promote their religious beliefs (I only say that, as insensitive as it may sound, because I was in the evangelical Christian world for a number of years so I know that kind of thinking is often somewhere under the surface, though not always to be fair, because again people are complex), but with Peterson I think it was just plain and simple compassion on his part, which I found moving. You can also see how passionate he is about others improving their lives and finding greater meaning and purpose in them, like when you see him with tears in his eyes when he talks about how people just need a little encouragement and he just wants to offer them that to them if he can, and you can see that that is what he really wants to do, and even if you may disagree with him on some or many of his views you can’t really fault him for wanting to help people. And of course it's pretty clear, at least to me, that he loves his wife and children, his family and friends, etc.

But even decent men still have their faults and flaws or struggles and problems, and recently Peterson checked himself into a rehab to try to get off of an anti-anxiety medication that he had started taking after his wife Tammy had been diagnosed with cancer (and from what I understand the whole situation with that was and is very complicated), which needless to say caused him a great deal of anxiety, which only added to all the anxiety he no doubt has had to deal with over the last couple years since coming into the limelight. I can't say that I blame him for turning to medication to try to take at least some of the edge off, and maybe that was a mistake, but it was an understandable one as far as I can tell. Sadly a number of his detractors or former supporters have been using this against him, berating him or expressing disappointment in him for seeking treatment, accusing him of being a drug addict and the like. Even if you're not really a fan of Peterson at all or disagree with him on most everything, I think it's kind of shitty to kick a guy when he's down like that, to berate a guy who was already struggling with anxiety for taking anti-anxiety meds when finding out the woman he loves has cancer (and I can kind of empathize with that having lost a good friend to cancer recently, though I will talk about that later in this post), or for trying to do the responsible thing by getting off of it when he realized it wasn't good for him (even if it could perhaps be reasonably argued that trying to quit cold turkey like he did may have been unwise, as some have been saying, but hey, no one is perfect, and that’s no reason to kick him when he’s down).

Sure I could understand if those who put Peterson on a pedestal might be disappointed that their idol had shown such human weakness, but after following Peterson for about a year now I realize that he's just a man and shouldn't be put on a pedestal (not that he would want to be anyway), and should be cut some slack for only being human.

If anything I find it somewhat encouraging that even the messenger struggles sometimes to apply their own message. As Christian minister and author Frederick Buechner once said (paraphrasing this here), 'I preach to myself my own sermons', meaning the message applies just as much to the one giving it as the one receiving it, and I am sure that Peterson is well aware of that, and would not deny that making good choices as an individual, that taking on responsibility, that tapping into that inner light, that walking the way of love, is just as difficult for him as it is for anyone else. The same is true of my writings here. I write to myself as much as to anyone else who may be reading this.

I empathize with Peterson and his struggles, and hope that others will as well rather than judging him too harshly, as we all have our faults and flaws and struggles and problems in life.

Recently I joined a Meetup group here in Portland where they discuss Peterson and his ideas, or better yet use him and his ideas as a springboard for wider and deeper discussions about various topics. It's a pretty cool group, with an interesting assortment of different kinds of people with different perspectives, and I've gone to the group a few times now, though only when the timing is right and the topic is interesting to me. In the most recent meeting I went to we actually talked about Peterson's checking himself into rehab and the flack he has gotten for that, and how being in the limelight and being something of a lightning rod for the current culture wars has taken a toll on him and his family, and we used that as a springboard for a deeper discussion on empathy and understanding. It was a really good discussion that ran all over the map but focused mostly on the importance of empathy and understanding in moving forward both as individuals and as a society. I think Peterson’s personal struggles are just a reminder that we should all try to be kind to one another for each of us may be fighting a hard battle, and even if others may not see it or know about it.

My dive into Jordan Peterson and his philosophy on life has led me into thinking more about things like this, and has got me thinking more about my life in general, and I see a bit of a kindred spirit in Peterson sometimes when I can see (or hear) him struggling to find words (words that seem like straw) to describe, at least in his own existentialist and Jungian and evolutionary way, something that may be, well, for lack of a better word, mystical.

Jumping out of the frying pan of politics and into the fire of religion here, I think one of the things that bothers some of Peterson's detractors, or even some of his supporters, is how he dances around the question of God's existence.  Peterson says he gets kind of annoyed with the question because he thinks it’s not a simple question to answer (and I think he may have a point there if you really think about it), but he tries to address it as best he can, and more or less says that he acts as though God exists, because it's how we act rather than what we think or feel that ultimately shows what we believe, and that's certainly a valid point I think. But I can definitely relate to the desire to dance around that particular question, as it's a question I have wrestled with a great deal throughout my life, and continue to wrestle with.

Of course I have written about the question of God in other posts here, and will no doubt continue to write about that question, but as far as it concerns finding my way in life, it's an important question. Is it up to me to decide what is the best path for me to take, or is there some other force that can or should decide that for me, or that could at least help me figure it out? Is there some deity, some guardian angel, some spirit guide, or some other higher power beyond this world or myself that can help me on my way, or am I on my own, do I need to figure this out on my own, maybe with a little help from other people who are trying to find their way too, but essentially alone in this?

Outside of a wedding or a memorial service I haven't been to a church in years, but I still pray (or I try to pray anyway) nearly everyday (and usually when I take a shower after I get out of bed, I guess you could say it's kind of a prayer closet) usually focusing on four areas, namely my relationships, work, creative life, and whatever my spiritual path is, or in my head going through this prayer written by Dietrich Bonhoeffer (while he was in a Nazi prison of all places) which I have memorized:

In me there is darkness But with you there is light I am lonely But you do not leave me I am feeble of heart But with you there is help I am restless But with you there is peace In me there is bitterness But with you there is patience I do not understand your ways But you know the way for me

When I get to the end of that prayer in my mind I sometimes kind of internally hold my hands up, hold my heart out, reach out, without really knowing or understanding, but with hope that something or someone is listening and does know the way, or at least knows it better than me, and can help me to find it.

As I said earlier in the post I feel like I have at times in my life glimpsed or heard whispers of something more, of some deeper truth, or Truth, and perhaps that Truth is some higher power, or God, that can help me find the way, though I don’t know for sure.

One of those times within the last year where I felt I connected with that something more, that truth, whatever it may be, was when I was at a concert for the wonderful Norwegian musician Aurora Asknes when she came here to Portland back in February. I wrote about Aurora Asknes in the last post that I wrote (titled Mad World) before my year long hiatus here, and if you haven't checked her or her music out yet I highly recommend that you do so, as she’s a real gem. Anyways, I went to the concert by myself, and I felt a little lonely there I admit, and I was feeling a little down too as I was trying to emotionally prepare myself for the following day when I was going to help put down my sister's beloved cat Smokey, who had been in our family for a number of years, but then when Aurora came on stage I found myself enraptured by her warmth and playfulness and humor and charm and surprising wisdom as so many of her fans are. What really hit me hard though was at the end of her concert she stopped and got kind of quiet, a hush falling across the crowded room, and then she dedicated her last song of the night to everyone out there who feels different or sad or broken or alone, and while I can't remember everything she said (sometimes I wished I had recorded it on my phone, but before the concert I had promised myself I would try to set aside my phone for most of the concert so I could really focus on it and take it in, which I did), I do remember that she spoke with such tenderness and sincerity and caring that I was moved to tears standing there in a crowded room, and after that she began to sing what may be my favorite song of hers, Through The Eyes Of A Child, which I reflected on in my Mad World post. Hearing that song in the earbuds of my music player as I’m walking home from work at night is one thing, but hearing her sing it on a stage maybe only 30 or so feet away was something else entirely, and the emotion in the room was palpable, and even as messy and awkward and weird as I felt standing there leaning against a wall (like a true wallflower, I know) crying alone in some crowded room in Portland, the moment still felt somehow holy and pure and real, and when she finished the song with the quiet but heartfelt line  'please don't leave me here', it felt like a cry from her heart, and it was a cry from my heart too, a cry that has been there so many times in my life, a cry to not be left here in the dark, to be loved, to not be alone, to be free...

I remember when I was there there was this young woman nearby me who really wanted to give Aurora a package with Aurora’s name on it, presumably with some long letter or series of letters addressed to her, or perhaps some other gift or offering, but she wasn't able to as Aurora wasn't doing meet and greet, and I saw her crying on the floor when she found out she couldn't connect with Aurora in a more personal way. I could at least partly sympathize with her as I too would love to meet and connect one on one with Aurora (much as I would love to meet and connect one on one with Peterson, or really any other public figure out there that I respect or appreciate in some way), as she seems like a wonderful human being, but then on the other hand I was kind disturbed as this lady seemed to have an unhealthy fixation on Aurora, like Aurora was some idol she was placing on a pedestal, or some goddess that she worshiped. There was also a message on Aurora’s Facebook page that I saw sometime after the concert about that particular concert where someone was trying to defend Aurora’s honor in some very weird and uncomfortable way, having felt that the venue somehow disrespected Aurora, to which I was like, um, okay... I can't say that I would really blame anyone for having a worshipful attitude towards someone like Aurora, or for even wanting to try and defend her honor (well okay that’s, um, okay), as Aurora is a very unique and magnetic person, and you can probably see some of that in how I or many of her other fans out there talk about her, and being in that room that night I could feel the power that that lovely young woman who seems like someone straight out of a fairy tale or some kind of fae queen had over her audience, could feel the love and admiration that people there felt for her, but just as with Peterson or any other thinker or musician or other public figure that I respect or appreciate I can still recognize her humanity, and am sure that she too has her own share of weaknesses and shortcomings, her own faults and flaws, and am sure that she sometimes makes mistakes or gets things wrong, that she too struggles in life. For example she is ironically something of an introvert who gets drained meeting a lot of people, even though she is also deeply empathetic, which is a difficult combination to be sure. I haven’t had a chance to watch it yet, as it hasn’t yet been released in the US, but apparently this aspect of her life is delved into in a documentary about her called Once Aurora. I’ve heard fans who have watched it were sobered by getting a better idea of how much of a drain Aurora’s fame has been on her at times, as much as she loves and appreciates her fans. And I’m sure she has other struggles as well, because even if she is a truly wonderful human being, she may still have some darkness within her that she has to contend with, as is the case with all of us, and I imagine it's no more easy for her to live out the message of love and kindness that she shares with her many fans (whom she affectionately refers to as Warriors and Weirdos) than it is for them. I'm sure she sings her songs to herself as much as she does to anyone else.  

Anyways, listening to Peterson sometimes, in those times when he is reaching for that something more, that deeper truth, there is something in that that seems holy, pure, real, or whatever you may call it, like a poet trying to find the words to describe the indescribable even if those words seem like straw, but then at Aurora's concert it felt overwhelming. It's not because Aurora is a goddess (well, maybe she is metaphorically speaking, though not literally speaking, well, you know what I mean, hopefully... hey I know she’s only human but that doesn’t mean she isn’t great), anymore than Peterson is a god, but because as a human being she opened up and welcomed her audience of fellow human beings into that reaching, her own reaching for that something more, that deeper truth, and I think we all, or at least many of us there, could feel that in some way. It honestly felt in some ways like taking communion at times felt for me in church (or at least in those times when the pastors or the elders leading in prayer weren't laying on the religious guilt too thick... yeah not helpful guys), individuals coming together, messy and awkward and weird though we may all be, to try and reach out, hold up our hands, hold out our hearts, in the dark, hoping that something or someone can see us, hear us, and can help us find our way, can somehow help us, heal us, lead us, guide us, through the dark and into the light. (By the way, the next day when I had to help put down my sister’s cat Smokey, including being there in the room with him when he was put to sleep, was definitely still a difficult day for all of us in the family, but then Aurora’s concert the night before encouraged and strengthened me somehow, which helped me get through it, and I am thankful to Aurora for that.)

In Through The Eyes Of A Child, Aurora sings about seeing the world through the eyes of a child, which leads me to another place where I felt a touch of that something more, of that deeper truth.

In the summer I read a book called Boy's Life by Robert McCammon, which is easily one of the best books I've read in a long while, and it is one that has stuck with me since reading it. The book follows a year in the life of 12 year old Cory Mackenson in 1960, where Cory is trying to solve a murder after he and his father witness a stranger in town, already dead with his throat slit, having his car, with him strapped naked in it, sunk into a local lake. While this murder mystery helps drive the story, there is much more to it, as you read about Cory and his three friends and their adventures over the course of the year, adventures that seemingly blend fantasy and reality, and at the core of the story is this sense of magic, of a world behind or beyond the one that we live and breathe in, that many of us experience more when we are children, and how that sense can easily fade away as we get older if we don't hold onto it, but also at the core of the story is the message that at least in some sense none of us ever really grow up, or at least not completely, as deep down there is a child in each of us still, beneath all of that jadedness and cynicism that can build up over the years.

In one of my favorite scenes in the book Cory has a dream where he encounters in her classroom one of his school teachers, Mrs. Neville, who had passed away only a few days before the dream, and in the dream she tells him a secret, which is this:

"No one ever grows up. They may look grown-up, but it's just a disguise, it's just the clay of time. Men and women are still children deep in their hearts."

Mrs. Neville goes on to say that the clay of time can hold us back from playing as we once did as children, and that we would like to come home to a mommy and a daddy who can love us and take care of us and keep us safe but can’t anymore when we are adults, and there is a sadness in wanting something that we can no longer have because of the passage of time, but I think what she tells Cory is on some level also hopeful, as it means that the magic is somehow still there in us, that we are still connected to it. On the one hand that we are still children deep in our hearts is a sobering truth, as I think it means that we are all more or less clueless and scared and uncertain at the end of the day, at least on some level, just as we often were as children, but then again it's also hopeful because we all still have the ability to see the world, as Aurora would put it, through the eyes of a child.

We still, even with the clay of time, have the ability to sense the magic, to see or feel the world behind and beyond the one we live and breathe in, because it's still there, and we're still connected to it somehow.

There was a dream that I had not too long ago that I can't remember much of aside from the final image, which was of a little girl with vibrant and shining red hair running ahead of me and then turning as I was on the edge of waking and saying 'don't give up'. For some reason that image has stuck with me. An acquaintance of mine who is a professional medium, the British Claire Broad (who actually did a reading for my wife Kaylyn and I back in December, though more on that later), told me that perhaps this was my spirit guide trying to communicate with me, and maybe appearing in the form of a child to remind me of that child within me, which may represent that divine spark that Peterson talks about sometimes, or that lens of a child’s eyes that Aurora sings about, or that sense of magic that Robert McCammon talks about, and maybe appearing to me as a little girl because I need a little more tenderness and gentleness and kindness in my life, maybe I need that same kind of feminine energy that I felt coming from or through Aurora while at her concert just a few months back.

(Just as an aside, I remember Peterson once sharing a story about a woman who had a psychedelic induced vision where she asked about him during that vision where she apparently encountered a being or beings, and was told that he was a representative or channel of the divine masculine, a story which Peterson found quite amusing but also kind of wondered about. I remember this coming to mind for a moment while I was at Aurora's concert, and found myself wondering if Aurora could perhaps be a representative or channel of the divine feminine as Peterson could perhaps be a representative or channel of the divine masculine, keeping in mind that the representatives, or channels, or messengers, need the message just as much as those they are sharing the message with. Maybe there is something to this, my making weird connections in my head in some strange Jungian archetypal way in order to say that we all need to try to find a balance between our masculine and feminine sides, that the divine spark within us or the magic in us is both masculine and feminine [which reminds me that towards the end of Boy’s Life there’s a passage where McCammon says that this is also a girl’s life, and that’s something us boys need to keep in mind] and to be whole we need to embrace both within ourselves... or maybe this is all just crazy talk... but whatever the case, I would love to see these two, Peterson and Aurora, as different as they are, get together and have a conversation, just to see what happens... heck, I would even pay money to see that.)

Sound a bit woo? Yeah, maybe dreams of little red-haired girls running around is a bit woo, but I don't know, and possibly I don't care as long as whatever it is is something good that can be trusted and can bring more of that divine spark or sense of magic into my life, can bring me closer to that something more, that deeper truth, whatever it may be. Maybe it was a message from beyond, and that message was ‘don’t give up’.

Speaking of woo, I remember this lady named Amy telling me something along the same lines, about my inner child and being embraced by feminine energy, when giving me my first ever tarot reading at this annual campout of mostly down to earth and laid back aging hippies (said with fondness) that my friend Keith and I went to over the summer called Feast Of Madness (which was a lot of fun by the way), and I remember her saying that I need to tap into that inner child more and not be afraid to get out there and play in the sun. Maybe that little girl in that dream was in part encouraging me and reminding to do just that, to wake up and seize the day and not give up on life, I don’t know. For someone who spends so much time in his head maybe I need to remember to not just think about living but to also, well, live. Maybe the little girl was in part telling me to not give up on life, life which is in large part suffering tainted by malevolence, but also a divine spark and magic, and full of sorrow no doubt but can also be full of joy, which can be, in the words of J.R.R. Tolkien, as poignant as grief.

And speaking of dreams, there was another dream I had in the last year that stuck with me, where our family friend Bryan, who had passed away from cancer a couple years ago, seemed to appear to me. It was the first dream I can remember Bryan appearing in since his death, and I haven't had a dream about him since. It wasn't particularly vivid (as I’ve heard ‘dream visitations’ tend to be) and it felt  vague and weird as most dreams do, and I don't think I even saw his face. I just remember giving him a hug and saying I was glad to see him, and all I can remember him saying to me was something about Troutdale, which is a city here in Oregon. I asked my mom, who knew him better than me, about it, but she didn't see any connection between him and Troutdale, and for a couple months I had this knocking around in the back of my mind, wondering about it, until one day while at work it hit me to look up if there was any connection between Bigfoot (which was, for anyone who really knew Bryan, his favorite thing in the world) and Troutdale, and was amazed to find that in just a few weeks time the Oregon Bigfoot Festival was going to be taking place in Troutdale.

I took this as a sign from Bryan, and a few weeks later Bryan's youngest son Kyle, Keith (who like me thought of Bryan as something of an uncle while growing up) and Keith’s 4 year daughter Sophie went to the festival. We all had a good time and I think it was a great way of remembering and honoring Bryan, even as simple and silly as it may have seemed, and we even talked about maybe trying to go every year, and we may do that if we can.

I suppose some might call the dream I had and the connection that I made because of it a coincidence, just some random fluke, others might think of it as some kind of precognition, and still others might indeed see it as a sign from someone who has passed on. I honestly don't know what it was for sure, but I know I felt compelled to act on it when I found a meaning in it, and I know that some good came out of it, and that all of that happened at all makes me wonder what might be going on behind and beyond this world that we live and breath in.

(Claire Broad ^^^) I also wonder about my reading (my first ever reading with a medium, have had a few weird firsts over this last year, that’s for sure) with Claire Broad back in December (which we did via video online since she lives in the UK), where Kaylyn's maternal grandma, who had passed about a year before Kaylyn and I met, and her aunt, who had passed a couple years ago, seemed to come through for Kaylyn, and where, strangely enough, my paternal grandpa (and part of me had wondered and hoped that my maternal grandpa, who had passed only a couple years ago, would come through for me, but no such luck), who had passed at least two to three decades before I was even born and when my dad was just a boy, seemed to come through for me. I admit I was pretty skeptical of mediums up until recently, or up until connecting with Claire anyway, but I am more open now, because while some of what Claire shared didn't seem to fit or make sense, a lot of other things did, including some things she couldn't have known or guessed, or at least not as far as I can tell anyway.  That and I’ve known Claire for awhile now and have gotten a feel for what kind of person she is, and even if some so-called mediums out there may not be legit, she doesn’t strike me as being among them and I think she’s genuine and not just some bullshit artist or huckster or whatever, that and she strikes me as intelligent and kind and I believe she just wants to use her abilities, whatever they may be, to help people. I still don't know what to make of all of it honestly, especially what she shared about my paternal grandpa who I never knew, but I do know that it gave Kaylyn some comfort on her end and some food for thought on mine, and I suppose that is something, and again it makes me wonder. These and other strange experiences make me wonder.

(The late great Art Bell ^^^) As I've said in other posts I have always been fascinated with the paranormal, ever since I was a kid, and have always had an interest in metaphysical and spiritual things as well, and most specifically the strange personal experiences that people have. Over the last year I've been listening to a lot of paranormal podcasts. One of my favorites is one called Strange Familiars with host Timothy Renner, who aside from being fascinated with the paranormal like myself also has a love for history and folklore and delves into that sometimes. I've also enjoyed listening to old episodes of Coast To Coast AM with Art Bell (who I found sadly passed away sometime last year), a radio show that my dad's cousin Cliff, who was into all things weird, often talked about and referenced in our conversations when I was a kid, although I'd never listened to the show myself up until recently. Anyways, one of the things that gets talked about in these shows and others that I listen to is that perhaps all of these things, whether they be cryptids (Bigfoot being one example) or ghosts or UFOs or shadow people or strange lights or time slips or synchronicities or out of body and/or near death experiences or miracles or whatever they may be, are somehow all interconnected, and maybe the true nature of reality is both more terrifying and more wonderful, and more just plain weird and wild, terrifyingly and wonderfully weird and wild, than any of us can imagine, and maybe there is a kind of magic in the world that you can only see through the eyes of a child, magic both dark and light.

I think part of what draws me to these topics is wondering what if, what if these things are real, what if these things are true... sure, I have little doubt that many strange experiences that people claim to have, or even that I have had, could be explained away through some natural or scientific or mundane means, but then I really have a hard time believing that all of them can, including some of my own, and even if just some of these things are real and true, then what does that mean for my life, and what are these strange or meaningful experiences that I and so many others have saying to us, if anything? Maybe one thing they are saying to us is it’s good to keep an open mind because even with all of our knowledge and understanding of the world gained through observation and exploration and experimentation there is still room for mystery, and as difficult as it may be for us to admit there is probably still more that we don’t know than what we do know. Whether it’s through the words of thinkers like Peterson, who in between debates about politics and philosophy have moments when they are are trying to find the words to describe something that may be indescribable, or whether it’s through the music of artists like Aurora who invite others into their reaching and their longing and their aching for a better life and a better world and to try to see the world through the eyes of a child, or through magical stories like Boy's Life, or through magical dreams like that of the little redheaded girl who turned to me and said 'don't give up', or through Bryan seeming to give me a sign, or through thought-provoking tarot or medium readings, or through other strange or even seemingly otherworldly experiences that I and so many others have had, I sense that there is something more, some deeper truth, or Truth, just behind and beyond the veil, and perhaps touching this reality, this deeper underlying reality, is somehow key to finding my way in life, as many others believe.

Of course there are different ideas about what this something more, what this deeper truth, is, if there is any such thing at all Some would say that it is God or some other higher power or powers, some would say that it is the higher self or some collective unconsciousness, while others would say it's none of the above or there really is nothing more, no such truth, and on top of that just about everything that I have said here is pretty much bullshit anyway and really who the hell cares and instead of trying to search for any universal meaning or purpose just try to make the most of your short and miserable life before you find yourself in the grave.

Well hey, I honestly don't know for sure who's right about this, if anyone is, and don't know for sure what is behind and beyond this world that we live and breathe in, if anything, I don't know what or who might be listening when I pray, or try to pray, when I hold up my hands and hold out my heart, or when I look for help to find my way in life, or to keep walking if I am already on the path, if there is any path at all... Maybe I am on my own, in trying to figure things out, or maybe I’m not... I suppose only time will tell what the case may be.

(My friend Erin ^^^) I wonder if my friend Erin McCarty, who passed away from cancer just a few weeks ago, knows better than I do now, and I hope she does, I hope to whatever or whoever may be listening that she does. Erin and I were friends for about eight years or so, and we never met in person, never even talked on the phone or Skyped or anything like that, our friendship was exclusively via Facebook Messenger and email and the occasional package back and forth, but we were good friends nevertheless, and I remember Erin and I would sometimes talk about things like this, the deeper mysteries of life. Erin herself was a devout and committed Christian, albeit a pretty open-minded and non-dogmatic one (the best kind), and her faith was important to her, but even she sometimes struggled with questions and doubts about the nature of reality, as most of us do at some time or another, though I believe she generally had more faith than myself. I would guess that she had very little fear of death in the end, and maybe there was part of her that even looked forward to it, wondering what was waiting for her beyond and behind the veil, including loved ones who had passed on before her. Knowing how adventurous in spirit she was that wouldn’t surprise me. But for me the very fact of Erin's death is a struggle to understand and accept as a part of reality, as it lead to questions and doubts on its own, with someone so kind and generous in spirit as she was dying so young, at only 38 years old, only a year older than myself, when she had so much more that she could have offered to the world (although in her 38 years she gave so much). I mean I don't really get it, and neither does anyone else out there who knew and cared for her I can imagine, but I will cope with the reality of it as best I can, and hope that someday I will get it, that someday things like this will make some kind of sense, that suffering and death will make some kind of sense, or at least hope that I can be at peace with the reality of them more or less in the end.

My last exchange with Erin was just a couple days before she died, after reading her dad's post about how she was going into hospice care and she probably didn't have much longer, and I shared with her in Messenger this Youtube clip from The Return Of The King where there is this exchange between Gandalf and Pippin in the midst of a siege by the forces of Mordor on Minas Tirith:

PIPPIN: I didn't think it would end this way.

GANDALF: End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.

PIPPIN: What? Gandalf? See what?

GANDALF: White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.

PIPPIN: Well, that isn't so bad.

GANDALF: No. No, it isn't.”

All she said was 'Thank you Matt <3, that is one of my all time favorite movie moments.' and I didn't hear any more from her after that. I suppose with her and I both being nerds, who enjoyed nerdy things such as Lord Of The Rings, and who often liked to discuss philosophical and spiritual things as well, this last exchange seems somehow appropriate and feels right when I think about it, and is even, at least to me, another one of those glimpses or whispers of something more, of some deeper truth.

I shared this and some other thoughts on Erin in a post on Facebook, and towards the end of my post I said this:

'Erin, in spite of her own struggles with doubt from time to time, had more faith than me I think, but even so I do believe, with whatever faith I may have, though a flickering candle it may be, that there is something more behind and beyond this life, that death isn't the end, and I don't say that in denial of some cold and cruel reality that we all must face to simply try to comfort myself or others at that heavy thought of a wonderful person such as Erin no longer being in this world, but because my heart tells me it is so.

I don't know what it is like, what it consists of, what the metaphysics are, or how it all relates to God and everything else that human beings have argued and debated about for millennia, but I do believe that there is something more beyond death, that death is just a gateway to something else, that it is a night that is followed by a new day, and my hope is that it is something like what Gandalf was talking about, and if anyone should be able to step foot on white shores and walk into a far green country with a swift sunrise, it should be Erin.'

I think Erin found her way in life, a way of kindness and generosity, and she went down her path (or up her path) like a lightning bolt, and maybe now, I hope, on the other side of the veil she has answers to whatever questions she had in life, or at least whatever answers she needed anyway, answers that may even be beyond words or the need of them, that may make all of our questions and doubts, like our words, seem like straw... And I hope that she has found a joy as poignant as grief, including the grief of her family and friends that remain here on Earth missing her, and I hope that someday all of us who knew her and cared for her will know the joy of seeing her again (or in my case, for the first time)...

On Halloween night I was rewatching one of my all time favorite films, 1982's Poltergeist, with my friend in Kenya, Annie (whom I've mentioned in other posts), who was watching it with me on her laptop as I watched it on mine and while we commented on it back and forth on our cellphones. Annie hadn't seen it since she was a kid, being terrified of it then, and had been too scared to watch it again since then, but she was willing to give it a go with me being there at least virtually for support. She was of course still pretty terrified, but she also enjoyed it, and enjoyed sharing the experience with me. One of my highlights for the year for sure.

Anyways, perhaps my favorite scene in the film, even above all the spooky goings on, is the one where Dr. Lesh, a parapsychologist who is trying to help this family, the Freelings, to bring their daughter Carol Ann back from the astral realm after she was dragged there by an evil spirit that they call the Beast (if you haven't seen the film you're missing out, it's great), and in the scene she is talking with Diane, Carol Ann's mother, and Robbie, her brother, about her understanding of the nature of life after death, with Jerry Goldsmith's brilliant and beautiful score playing quietly in the background, and one of the things she says to them is this:

'Some people believe that when people die, there's a wonderful light -- as bright as the sun. But it doesn't hurt to look into it. All the answers to all the questions that you ever want to know are inside that light. And when you walk into it, you become a part of it forever.'

My heart stirs sometimes when she says this in this scene, perhaps another example of one of those glimpses or whispers of something more, of some deeper truth, and in this case nestled somewhere in a classic 80s horror film. I hope that something like this is true when we die, I hope something like this is true for Erin and will be true for all of us, that there is a wonderful light waiting to embrace us all...

I imagine that some who read this will wonder what kind of weird brain I have, jumping from talking about Thomas Aquinas and words like straw, to talking at some length (maybe a good third of this post at least) about a popular but also controversial Canadian professor and psychologist that liberal media outlets sometimes equate with the 'alt-right' (if unfairly so I believe) who nevertheless in between his political rants says things that really resonate with me spiritually, going from touching on gender (including transgender) issues and rights and relations and more generally on empathy and understanding, to a 23 year old Norwegian musician who made me cry in a crowded room in Portland, going from a murder mystery/coming of age story about the magic of seeing the world through the eyes of a child, to strange dreams that might be from spirit guides or from the dead, as well as touching on all things weird or paranormal or that are behind and beyond what we know and understand, from the death of a friend who I will miss and who so many will miss and whose death I really can't understand but hope to understand someday, to a classic horror film that came out the year that I was born and in between the scares has moments that speak to me. What is it all of these things have in common, what ties all of these things together?

I don't know, or at least I'm not sure, but I can throw some more straw at it anyway.

I had initially intended on trying to write a post about gender and being a man about a year ago, and maybe I gave you some idea of what that might have looked like in the first half of this post, but then strangely enough trying to delve into that complicated topic helped in some ways to lead me into deeper issues of humanity and what it is to be human, much as Cassie Jaye's own experience with suffering and loss through her miscarriages has led her away from wanting to talk about something that is more political and abstract and towards wanting to talk about something that is more personal and raw, and looking into someone like Peterson who is known in the mainstream mostly for some of his more controversial and divisive political and social views, and who is mocked and disparaged by all sides, led me to finding something of a kindred spirit in someone who, even if I may disagree with him on some things, is trying to walk a path, and lay out that path for others to try to help give their lives more meaning and purpose, and who, in between his political rants, is trying to reach for something more or for some deeper truth in his own imperfect human way, just as I am... Going from something that is more on the surface, to something deeper, from something in the realm of ideology and the games that people play, down into the soul...

I had initially planned on ending that blog post, whatever it might have been, on the note that whatever gender we are, whether male or female or transgender or non-binary or whatever, we are all of us human beings under the skin, and we all share this world and are in this together, and whether we may like it or not, so perhaps it is best to try to learn to empathize, and to understand one another as well as we can so we can move forward, even if that may be much more easily said than it is done, but again we can at least try.

And maybe that is one of the things that connects all of these seemingly disparate things... moving forward, even with all our faults and flaws and struggles and problems, or in the words of C.S. Lewis, further up and further in.

Jordan Peterson often talks about our aim, what we are aiming for, that we should aim for a better life and a better world, even if it is only incrementally, just one step at a time. He uses as an example the story of Pinocchio, where Gepetto wishes on a star for a son, and Pinocchio wishes to be a real boy, looking to the blue fairy, where he dives into the belly of the whale to rescue his father, and all the archetypes and symbols and metaphors and dreams that may be lying underneath stories like these.

This reminds me of one of my favorite passages in one of my favorite books, The Neverending Story (a scene that sadly wasn't in the film) where Bastian had to go down into the depths of the land of Fantasia (or Fantastica in the book), which is literally built on the dreams of humanity, into a mine full of glass images of dreams, to find a dream of his father's, and he finds this image of his father trapped in a cage, where he is in sorrow and pain, and he needs rescuing and above all love, which in the end Bastian is able to offer his father when he returns to his own world, which sets his father free to live again after being crushed by grief after losing his wife, the mother of his son, sometime before.

And why am I reminded of that, what is the connection? Why does it mean for the father to reach for the son, or the son to reach for the father? The mother for the daughter, the daughter for the mother? The masculine and the feminine, culture and nature, the old and the new, intertwined in symbols one after another in dreams that speak in a language we only rarely if ever understand? Why do we reach for the stars, and why must we dive into the dark to find what we're looking for? Why does grief crush us and can love free us? What is my aim in writing all of this? Again I'm not sure, but here again is more straw. Maybe in our art and our poetry, maybe in our words like straw that we aim in the direction we want to move in, maybe in the archetypes and symbols and metaphors and dreams, maybe in the conversations and the music and stories and experiences and in our lives and in our deaths and maybe in our lives again, maybe we are reaching, reaching up, or reaching in, or down, or out, reaching in every direction, or in the words of the poet Walt Whitman:

'A noiseless patient spider, I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated, Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding, It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself, Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space, Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them, Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold, Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.'

Maybe on some level many of us, perhaps all of us, are digging, digging, digging (like a boy digging through a mine of dreams), through all of these things, through all of the philosophy and politics that we argue about, and all of the art that we enjoy and appreciate, and all of the experiences that we remember and struggle with and hold onto, and all of our beliefs and the questions and doubts surrounding them that we wrestle with, and everything that we think about and talk about and wonder about and feel, so we can find a bridge to walk across, so we can find something to hold onto, so our souls, like noiseless patient spiders, can catch something firm, something solid, something holy and pure and real, so we can find a way forward, a way further up and in and down and out, and with no need for words... maybe.

Well now... Ground Control to Major Matt, take your protein pills and put your helmet on... I get carried away sometimes, so back down to Earth I go...

(Krissy Lynn in her mirror video ^^^) Another one of the things I discovered over the last year was the Youtube channel of Krissy Lynn, who is a porn actress of all things. And yes I have also seen some of her, um, other videos online. Full disclosure here, bringing things well and truly back down to Earth: I have watched a lot of porn throughout my life, and I still watch porn (though fortunately I have steered clear of the really twisted stuff, like child or rape porn). It’s a long story of the hows and whys and it’s not a topic that I want to really get into here, partly because it is such a sensitive topic, both for me and for society, but suffice to say that I have mixed feelings about it, about the whole industry of porn itself as well as all of my experience with it since I was a kid. And any shade that anyone out there may want to throw my way because of it isn't anything I haven't already thrown at myself at different times in my life, and trust me shame is an emotion I know all too well, especially when it is combined with religious guilt which I had in the past when I was an evangelical Christian. That said, one thing I've learned over the years is it does me no good at all to hate myself or berate myself for it as I have done in the past, so if you feel at all disposed to you could judge me all you want about it but you aren't going to be able to push me to hate or berate myself as I've done that plenty myself, and I know it never did me any good (and a real big surprise there, as that seems to be the case in any situation, that hating and berating yourself never really does any good, and it usually just makes things worse). There are those who wrestle with a weakness for drugs or alcohol, others for gambling or gaming, still others for food or shopping or you name it, just about anything you can think of can become a weakness or something you can feel shame about, but for me one of my weaknesses has been and continues to be pornography, and it is what it is and it's something that I wrestle with and that's just part of me and my life, and I'm not afraid to admit that here. Is it a sin (if sin is even the right word here, sin meaning missing the mark)? There’s debate about that (though certainly no debate about certain forms of porn like child or rape porn, which I think most would agree are vile and evil) and I’m of two minds about it myself, but I will say this: May he (or she) who is without sin cast the first stone. Anyways, with that out of the way and out in the open... Krissy Lynn has been one of my favorite porn actresses as she is, um, very attractive to me, but when I discovered her Youtube channel I admit it really surprised me. Even though some would find her career choice to be contradictory to this, in her Youtube videos I found that she is actually a pretty thoughtful and kind and even spiritual person at her core, or at least she seems to be someone who really wants to learn and grow spiritually and in general as a person. Some might assume that everyone who works in the porn industry is pretty shallow and surface level, but then in some of Krissy's videos she shares about her journey in life and how she is trying to learn and grow and better herself. Sure she has the occasional video where she dances around sexily and shows off her admittedly gorgeous body (which I enjoy, not gonna lie), but then in many of her videos she shares about her journey in life and shares from her heart in meaningful ways. I don’t think she’s ashamed of what she does for a living, or at least she doesn’t give that impression, and she doesn't let the nature of her career keep her from exploring deeper things or trying to find ways to feed her soul, and I can respect and appreciate that. One of her videos that has really stuck with me was a video where she talked about and demonstrated this exercise she called 'mirror work' where you stand in front of a mirror and talk to yourself, telling yourself what you are proud of, what you forgive yourself for, what you commit to for yourself, or anything you want to say to yourself. In her demonstration of the exercise when she got to the part where she forgives herself for something, she was in tears when she forgave herself for how she hid away as a kid because she was afraid of connecting with others. That really spoke to me having had a similar experience when I was a kid.

I've since been trying to do this mirror work exercise myself, usually when I get out of the shower. I tell myself (in my head though as doing so out loud feels weird for me) as I look at myself in the mirror, for example, that I am proud of you for getting out of bed to face the day today or for being kind to a friend or for working hard, or that I forgive you for watching porn or for getting pissed off about stupid things or for making an ass of yourself or for being a scared kid yesterday or today, or that I commit to trying to move forward one step at a time... that sort of thing. And I got the inspiration to do this from a porn actress of all people, a porn actress who is, even if she may to some extent objectify herself and let others objectify her, also a human being with a soul like you and me. I admit in a strange way it feels more real to me to be getting life advice from someone like Krissy Lynn, someone who is probably seen as an object of scorn by some (as much as she is seen as an object of desire by others) because of what she does for a living, than it does receiving it from some spiritual teacher or guru living in some cloistered space. Also there is something meaningful to me about receiving a message of healing from someone who works in porn, which has been a source of shame for me throughout much of my life, there’s something about that that speaks to me for some reason, I don’t know, like it’s a light coming out of the dark, or perhaps whatever sexual wounds I may have are like cracks where, as Rumi would put it, the light gets in.

Jordan Peterson, who I agree with on a number of things but not completely here, has a pretty low view of pornography, as many people do, which is understandable I guess, even if my own feelings about it are more complicated and nuanced (partly because I have listened to a lot of podcast interviews with those who work in porn, on podcasts like Holly Randall Unfiltered for example, and they have diverse perspectives and experiences within the industry, some negative for sure but others positive, or some combination thereof), but I wonder what he would make of someone like Krissy, who is trying in her own way to better herself and improve her life and dig deeper to find meaning and purpose, and even while she basically gets paid for having sex on camera.

John Green once said that we should understand people complexly (going back to the point that people are complex), and Krissy, with her career in porn, and also me, with my weakness for porn, are really no exceptions to that rule I think, as we can both stand in front of mirrors and sometime have a hard time saying something like 'I love you' to ourselves, but then we should be able to because we are still worthy of love I believe (even though I admit to having my doubts sometimes, and don’t we all), even as messy and awkward and weird as we may be, as are we all.  

In Krissy Lynn's most recent Youtube video she talked about loneliness and how the answer to it is loving yourself, accepting yourself, even admiring yourself, more than it is looking to others for validation. I wrote a post on Facebook recently where I reflected on loneliness and isolation and towards the end I included that thought, that learning to love ourselves may be part of answering loneliness, though I also acknowledged that people being able to connect more may be part of it too, as there seems to be a real disconnect in some ways between people these days. Maybe there is more of a kind of connection via the internet and social media over the last twenty something years since the dawn of the internet, which can be valid and meaningful in its way (my friendship with Erin or Annie being examples of this), but face to face and one on one connection seems to be harder to come for many people nowadays, which is ultimately more important and more needed than any other kind of connection, as hard as that may be to accept in this world of social media, tweeting, texting, and virtual reality. So I think it's both, we need to love ourselves but also need love from others, as it's all intertwined I think. There was another video I watched recently by a lady named Savannah Brown who also talked about loneliness, as well as the difficulty in connecting with others in meaningful ways, and in the video she shared some of her struggles, but ended on a poignant note of hoping that, even if she can’t read the minds of others or step into their shoes completely, she can still understand and can be understood in some way, even with all our limitations and the walls between us. I share in that hope.

(tired and disheveled and kind of sad me while writing this ^^^) I wrote a poem about loneliness (which is somewhat revised here) back in August that I think captures some of what loneliness feels like, at least for me: Loneliness is a weight That settles in my bones Is it right to walk alone Or to be only one With the deep sky above And the abyss beneath That I gaze into And gazes back at me Oh I wonder, I wonder Surrounded by the crowd People who love and hate But the weight remains And the bones still ache The deep sky calls to me And the abyss cries out My fingers in the air My toes in the water Oh I wonder, I wonder But to combat loneliness maybe like Krissy Lynn says I need to learn to love myself more, and even with all my faults and flaws and weaknesses and shortcomings and limitations and everything else.  When I look in the mirror I see a scared kid behind those eyes, behind the clay of time, a soul within a body that is slowly but surely aging, a bit more weathered and tired than I was as a boy or in my teens or twenties, a little more jaded and cynical and pessimistic, or as the late great George Carlin put it in an interview with Art Bell that I listened to recently, like a disappointed idealist, and sometimes feeling, as Frederick Buechner would put it, like a man who, when he looks in the mirror, sees at least eight parts chicken, phony, and slob... But underneath it all is still that scared kid, who feels he doesn’t really know or understand much for sure, who feels like love is something he’s not very good at actually practicing, who sometimes feels he is too pretentious and arrogant or disingenuous and fake, but who may yet have a spark of something genuine and real in him, a spark that reaches for something more, for some deeper truth with a capital T, that will set him free and bring him peace, and who is still learning what it means to be a man or a human being in this world.

This scared kid is still trying to find a way, a path, through the darkness and towards the light, maybe towards the wonderful light that will embrace him, or perhaps already does...

I've listened to debates (which were really more discussions) between Peterson and popular atheist thinker Sam Harris where they talked about truth and fact and their value and the differences between them, which were in some ways debates between science and religion, though not exactly as neither of them are overly dogmatic about their positions, or not as far as I can tell anyway. Anyways, something that gets brought up by Peterson is the danger of nihilism, which a non-religious worldview can lead to (or at least more readily), and something that gets brought up by Harris is the danger of fundamentalism, which a religious worldview can lead to (or again at least more readily). Having been both non-religious and religious at different times in my life, and now being in some weird place in between those two poles, I can attest that both concerns are valid as I have put my feet in the water of both.

To me nihilism (which is usually found in non-religious contexts but perhaps can be found in religious ones sometimes) is basically a worldview in which life has no meaning or purpose or value save what we may impose upon it, which is arbitrary at best. This worldview can leave you feeling lost and aimless and empty, with no real sense of identity or value that is intrinsic and objective, and you are just some speck in a cold and impersonal and uncaring cosmos, believing that life is either some sick joke, or just a spectrum of pleasure and pain to choose from without much consideration for any morality or ethics outside of those we may choose to invent for ourselves, because they don't really matter anyway, and nothing really matters, and life is basically just suffering and loss and madness all the way down mostly, with only brief and transitory pleasures that may give some semblance of meaning and purpose and value but all of it being only an illusion, and (at least in those non-religious contexts that have no belief in an afterlife) followed by our inevitable death, the grave, and finally oblivion, and in time probably the death of the sun, the implosion of the universe, and then nothing.

On the other hand, to me fundamentalism (which is usually found in religious contexts but perhaps can be found in non-religious ones sometimes) is basically a worldview where there is a strict and inflexible and narrow meaning and purpose and value to life that is imposed upon us by someone else or by some tradition or expectation that cannot be questioned at all or if at all very little. This worldview can leave you feeling trapped and like you're in a straitjacket (maybe in a padded room, or maybe in a room with brick walls) and at best only conditionally loved or accepted, your identity and value tied tightly to whether or not you remain devoted to your belief system and everything that goes with it, only a servant to some higher order or principle that cannot be reasoned with, and life becomes a set of do's and don'ts, rules to be followed, or else you will be punished, perhaps even (at least in those religious contexts that have some kind of belief in an afterlife) punished eternally after death, burning in fire or banished into darkness forever and ever, pick whatever literal metaphor strikes your fancy, in which case you would probably be wishing for oblivion.

I've experienced both of these extremes at different times in my life, and there is a danger of falling into either of them whether you are non-religious or religious, and I suppose one of my aims in life now is to find a way or a path between these two extremes.

Peterson often talks about a balance between order and chaos, the masculine and the feminine, the yin and the yang, which is a balance that is often talked about in Taoism. I admit I don't know much about Taoism (I have a copy of the Tao-Te-Ching but haven't read it yet, though I plan to), but I am familiar with the yin-yang symbol and what it means at least roughly. The symbol is a circle of black and white, the black half of the circle, or paisley, being yin, representing darkness and chaos and feminine energy and moving inward, and the white half of the circle, or paisley, being yang, representing light and order and masculine energy and moving outward. (Just as another aside, from what I can understand the black paisley, yin, doesn't necessarily represent evil, nor does the white paisley, yang, necessarily represent good, or at least not in any traditional sense, or I think it's much more complicated than that anyways. Just wanted to touch on that as I know that some women are understandably bothered about the feminine being equated with darkness and chaos [and this is sometimes brought up when Peterson talks about things like this as well], which are often seen in a negative light, but I think in the case of yin it is more representative of what’s hidden and unknown and of mystery and creative forces [whereas I think yang would be more representative of what’s seen and known and of answers and structural forces], and with women bearing children, who are for a time hidden and unknown and a mystery and a product of creative forces, this would make some sense symbolically and I think there is a beauty in this symbolism and I believe women can take pride in it, being the bearers of mystery and having a creative force within them. Of course this doesn't mean at all that women only have value as bearers of children, far from it, but I think this is an aspect of the feminine that is unique to women and should be a source of pride rather than shame. And hey, this is all coming from a guy who apparently needs a little more yin in his life, going by what I said above about feminine energy and all, so there's that.) In the black paisley, there is a dot of white, and in the white paisley, there is a dot of black, as there is a bit of yin in the yang, and a bit of the yang in the yin, and they are interconnected. In other words, darkness can come out of light, and light out of darkness, chaos can come out of order, and order out of chaos, the feminine is in the masculine and the masculine is in the feminine, sometimes in order to move inward you need to look outward, sometimes to move outward you need to look inward, etc.

To give a couple real life examples of this principle of the yin being in the yang and the yang being in the yin. For the first example, during the summer because of some complicated financial struggles my family had our electricity shut off, and we weren't able to get it back on for two weeks. It was only through the generosity of family and friends that we were able to pay our huge electric bill and finally get our power back on. The experience was painful for us, and one of both literal and figurative darkness, but the light in it was the generosity of others who helped us, and we wouldn't have been able to experience that generosity if we hadn’t lost our electricity. Also this experience has helped us to maybe not take things like electricity so much for granted. The yang in the yin, light in darkness, and the light was even more meaningful in that darkness. For the second example, towards the end of the summer my wife Kaylyn and I went to the beach up in Washington for our five year anniversary. All in all I think we had a good time, whether it was shopping around or eating Chinese food or watching the Lord Of The Rings trilogy in its entirety, but then on the day before we returned home Kaylyn lost her cellphone to the ocean when we were walking out on the beach together, and needless to say Kaylyn was upset and it kind of put a damper on the rest of our trip. But even this was a reminder to us to try to make the most of things even when they don't go the way we want them to, that sometimes, well, shit happens and we have to roll with it as best we can. The yin in the yang, darkness in light, and the darkness reminded us to appreciate what we still have.

And earlier this year I wrote a poem inspired by the concept of yin and yang, as well as using imagery from some real life experiences of mine, which I tentatively titled Yin and Yang: In the light of darkness In the darkness of light I remember crying to The silent stars And climbing stairs to Caress the shadow of heaven Tearing at the fresh grass When I wouldn't grow And sitting in silence with peace Drawn in the rock and the dust Numbers and letters Blending into fading miracles The hope of an embrace Holding me in my pain Pictures and poetry and names Lighting my way in the dark Bargain with demons in the day Wrestle with angels in the night

The Tao (or the Way), is about finding a balance between the yin and the yang and moving forward as you try to keep that balance, at least as I understand it. And perhaps this applies to finding a path or way between the extremes of nihilism (which one might describe as extreme chaos, where there is really no or very little solid ground to stand on, like an open ocean that drowns you) and fundamentalism (which one might describe as extreme order, where the ground is just too hard and packed and there is no or very little fertile soil to allow for things to blossom and grow, like a barren desert that leaves you dry and thirsty).

I've been in the open ocean of nihilism and the barren desert of fundamentalism at different times in my life (mainly dealing with the former in my teens and then the latter in my 20s), and while it was painful and difficult on both accounts, I feel like I learned from my experiences, for one learning the lesson, in the words of Walt Whitman (who put out better quality straw than mine for sure by the way) that I should 're-examine all I have been told, and dismiss what insults my soul', and that is what I have been trying to do through my 30s thus far. Both extremes told me that I as an individual human being had no intrinsic or objective value, that my life was either meaningless full stop or that my worth as a human being was dependent upon meeting certain standards, and I'm finding that neither extreme is right, whether about that or any number of things, and that I don't have to believe or accept either anymore, I don't have to believe or accept those insults to my soul anymore. Sometimes it feels like a tightrope act, avoiding these extremes on either side, trying to find a middle ground that offers some kind of foundation to stand on but also room for change and growth, but I think this is the way that I need to go, or the path that I need to find.

Maybe it's like trying to hammer down just enough fluttering pieces to have something to stand on, but not so many pieces that there are none left to fly, if that makes any sense... I remember one of the quotes I was thinking of using in the post I had planned to write called Measure Of A Man was this quote from a film called, of all things, Measure Of A Man, about a teenager coming of age during one summer, and this is something that an older man (played by Donald Sutherland) who ends up becoming a kind of mentor to him, tells him at one point:

I think this applies not just to men but to women as well, and people in general, and the storms of our lives that need to be navigated are of course both external and internal, both the difficult circumstances of our lives that we have to struggle with and the choices of others that are at odds with our own, and the inner turmoil and unrest that we must deal with within ourselves on a day to day basis as well as the weight of our own choices and how those choices may impact those around us.

And the measure of who we are may be in our ability to find the proper shore through all of this, through all of these storms ... though, then again, maybe there is some power or presence around us, with us, in us, that can be help us through the storms, or at least I hope there is.

One of my favorite prayers (which I also have memorized and sometimes recite in my head while taking a shower) is the Breton fisherman prayer:

'Dear God, please be good to me, for the sea is so wide, and my boat is so small.'

I often feel like my boat, this youngish but still aging body with this little scared kid of a soul in it, is so small, and the sea, this life and this weird and wild world and this universe, is so wide, so I pray, I hope, that I'm not alone in all of this, that I'm not alone in the sea or in my boat.

Sometimes when I imagine myself there, there in some small and frail boat out in a vast open sea, I imagine Jesus there in the boat with me, yes that Jesus, who I admit I rarely think of these days, though there was once a time when I thought of Jesus just about every day back when I was a Christian, or when I was trying to be one anyway. But when I think of Jesus now I don’t think of Jesus so much as some vague and mysterious historical figure that legends have been built around along the lines of whoever may or may not have inspired the legend of King Arthur, nor some mere composite of doctrines and dogmas of the church that exists simply to get as many theological ducks in a row as possible, or even as the enigmatic and paradoxical figure in the Gospels that seemingly claimed divinity and was crucified for it and came back to life a couple of days later at least in part so some skeptical guy like me could put their fingers in his scars and believe. ... Not any of those but more, well, the Jesus of my own imagination, and not imagination as in something that is completely made up off the top of my head, but more from some place deep down where dreams come from, that substrata or mine of dreams that we sometimes tap into.  And this Jesus takes on something of that classic image of him, wearing a robe and sandals, strong and sturdily built like a man who works with their hands, with the deep tan of a man who spends plenty of time in the sun, with long and somewhat brown hair (though not the cascading perfectly combed luscious locks that are sometimes given to him in films about him), and a ruggedly handsome though somewhat weathered face (that of someone who has known struggle and pain) with deep brown eyes that are somehow both penetrating and kind. And this Jesus is simply there with me, sometimes holding my hands, just reassuring me with no words that I’m not alone. And this Jesus in the boat with me, much like the red headed little girl in that dream of mine, tells me to not give up, and not so much with words but just with his reassuring presence. I’m reminded of the beautiful classic song Suzanne by Leonard Cohen, which I sometimes find myself listening to in the middle of the night, and that strangely beautiful second verse about Jesus: And Jesus was a sailor When he walked upon the water And he spent a long time watching From his lonely wooden tower And when he knew for certain Only drowning men could see him He said "All men will be sailors then Until the sea shall free them" But he himself was broken Long before the sky would open Forsaken, almost human He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone   And you want to travel with him And you want to travel blind And you think maybe you'll trust him For he's touched your perfect body with his mind I don’t know what Cohen meant by all of that, what was going through his head when he wrote that, but I wonder... Maybe there is a reason we are in these boats, why we are sailors out on this sea that we call life, but maybe true freedom will only come when we are no longer afraid of the sea, the sea of life... perhaps God is the sea, and Jesus, being a human symbol of God in the minds of many, is like the sea in that boat encouraging me not to be afraid, because the day will come when the time for being a sailor will be over, when it will be time to jump out of this small and frail boat of mine and dive into the depths, and perhaps rather than drowning in those waters I will be able to breathe in those waters and be embraced by them and call them home, and perhaps in this case the proper shore isn’t on land, but in the sea itself... 

I'm also reminded of one of my friend Erin's favorite songs by one of her all time favorite bands, Simon and Garfunkel, Bridge Over Troubled Water:

When you're weary, feeling small When tears are in your eyes, I'll dry them all I'm on your side, oh, when times get rough And friends just can't be found Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down When you're down and out When you're on the street When evening falls so hard I will comfort you I'll take your part, oh, when darkness comes And pain is all around Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down Sail on silver girl Sail on by Your time has come to shine All your dreams are on their way See how they shine Oh, if you need a friend I'm sailing right behind Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind Like a bridge over troubled water I will ease your mind

Is there some power or presence, like the Jesus in my imagination, like the sea that I need not fear and will not drown but rather embrace me, that is beyond us but also with us, that will dry our tears, be at our side, comfort us, take our part, and sail right behind and ease our minds, that can somehow help us navigate to the proper shore, even if that is in the sea itself, at least until that day that we are no longer sailors but will be freed and embraced by that which we need no longer fear? Maybe... I hope so... because I would rather not be on my own having to figure this out on my own, and I would rather dream of freedom and being embraced... but one way or another, I will have to keep moving forward as best I can, trying to find my way.

Earlier last week I had a breakdown, crying alone in my bed for different reasons, partly because of my feelings of disappointment in myself, disappointment because of how I relate, or fail to relate, to others, disappointment in not really doing much with my life, being a janitor who cleans toilets for a living and who can’t drive and who still lives with his mother (and with his wife and cat, but you get the idea), disappointment in being an aspiring writer who has all of these ideas for books but has yet to publish one because of a general lack of motivation and confidence, disappointment in myself for being kind of aimless and lost and not being able to imagine my life beyond 40, wondering if I will die young like my friend Erin but unlike her that my life will not amount to much at all in the end. I felt like a failure, felt that I’m just not loving enough or mature enough or successful enough or grounded enough... I felt worthless in those moments, like I’m just not good enough... which unfortunately is far from being my first time to feel that way in my life, and I am sure it won’t be the last. The following night when walking home after a difficult day at work, feeling tired and drained and alone, I was thinking about these things again, and was even thinking about death, dancing around the idea of suicide, part of me wishing that no one cared for me (I could lie to myself and say that no one does but I’m not at that point yet thankfully) so I could opt out without hurting anyone, wrestling with those thoughts and others in my mind. I was listening to music in my earbuds on my music player as I was walking, and the beautiful Corrs cover of R.E.M.’s Everybody Hurts came up on my playlist and started playing, and when Andrea, their lead singer, got to the part where she sings  no, no, no, you’re not alone’ it broke me, and I began weeping while I was walking, partly because I was afraid it wasn’t true, and partly because I hoped that it was. I hoped that those beautiful words backed by soaring violins were true, and that maybe God, if he (or she, or both combined) was listening, or whoever was listening that cared, was saying that to me through that song in that moment... And this week has been really rough for me too, in large part because of a deep and complex problem in my life regarding a relationship of mine (a problem that I don’t feel comfortable sharing about here), and all in all I’ve been pretty shaken up and depressed. I had another breakdown (this many breakdowns in such a short period of time is kind of unusual for me, at least these days) while lying in bed, crying out to God or whoever was listening for help, after which the number 145 started flashing in my mind, which led me to this big book of religious and spiritual poetry that I have that has thousands of poems that are numbered and categorized, and turning to page 145 I found a poem about Jesus as a child that ended with a reference to Gethsemane (where Jesus apparently sweated blood because of how much anguish he was in, which I can really relate to), which kind of said to me that God truly understands (in the same way that Savannah Brown in her video hopes that we can understand one another)  what I am going through in my life, and then when I turned to poem number 145, it was one that talked about the haunting presence of God, and beneath that, poem 146, there was an excerpt from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem In Memoriam that really jumped out at me: That which we dare invoke to bless;      Our dearest faith; our ghastliest doubt;      He, They, One, All; within, without; The Power in darkness whom we guess; I found Him not in world or sun,      Or eagle's wing, or insect's eye;      Nor thro' the questions men may try, The petty cobwebs we have spun: If e'er when faith had fall'n asleep,      I heard a voice `believe no more'      And heard an ever-breaking shore That tumbled in the Godless deep; A warmth within the breast would melt      The freezing reason's colder part,      And like a man in wrath the heart Stood up and answer'd "I have felt. "No, like a child in doubt and fear:      But that blind clamour made me wise;      Then was I as a child that cries, But, crying, knows his father near; And what I am beheld again      What is, and no man understands;      And out of darkness came the hands That reach thro' nature, moulding men. This excerpt of Tennyson’s poem said to me that in my crying that my Father (or my Mother, or my Creator, or whatever you may call it) was and is near, and that there is maybe some higher meaning or purpose (that moulding) to my whole situation in life, that I am not alone and one day I may understand, and all of this helped me to calm down and rest a bit. Since then I have still be struggling off and on, but I feel like I am beginning to level out somewhat, partly because of little encouraging glimpses and whispers like these, and partly through the encouragement and kindness of friends, and while I’m not out of the woods yet, I’m seeing a little more light and have a little more hope than I had before, though of course I will continue to have my ups and downs as all of us do... whatever the case, I will keep trying to move forward, will keep trying to find my way, will keep trying to hold on, hold on, believing with whatever faith and hope I have that no, no, no, I’m not alone, even, or especially when, I am crying in the dark.

I believe each of us is like a portal into another world, and through my words (which no matter how hard I try seem like straw at the end of the day) I try to open my portal so you can maybe get a glimpse into it, or hear whispers from it, and of course this world that you may call Matthew or some guy you know more or less, but that I call my life and my soul, is just one world among billions of worlds on this World, with a capital W, that we call Earth and that all of us share, and the Earth of course doesn't revolve around me anymore than it does anyone of course, or at least it shouldn't anyway. And of course your perceptions of me and your interpretations of what I have to say here will inevitably be different from my own perceptions or interpretations of myself and everything I've written here, that's a given and there's no way around that sadly. I've talked about empathy and understanding here but just because it's important doesn't make it easy, as maybe some of you reading this disagree with me or take issue with me on this or on that in all my weird and wild jumping around, whether it is on politics or social issues or philosophy or religion or my ideas or beliefs or perceptions or interpretations or experiences or whatever it may be, heck, maybe you even disagree with my taste in music or books or movies for all I know, and maybe some of you may find it hard to empathize with me or understand me for whatever reasons, and as sad as that might be for me I know that it's always a possibility. I can’t make everyone like me, let alone love me, anymore than anyone can make me like or love them. It’s always a choice for each of us. Not through my words or even through my actions could I ever hope to gain respect or love or acceptance from everyone that I come into contact with or comes into contact with me in whatever way, that hasn't happened and that's not going to happen, which goes back to the importance of learning to respect and love and accept myself, and of course having empathy and understanding towards myself isn't any easier than having empathy and understanding towards others, but hey you gotta try to start somewhere, right?

I remember in an audio drama that I was listening to recently called Olive Hill, in the last episode the main character said something about how it may be that life will never be completely satisfying, that we will always be searching or reaching for whatever it is we are longing and aching for, and as sad as that is maybe that’s okay, because maybe it is what keeps us moving forward, maybe hope keeps us moving forward, further up and further in (and down, and out).

I hope that my writing here, my blog or my blarg or my bleh, is better than some of my writings in the past, that it is less pretentious and arrogant, that it is not so disingenuous and fake, and that there is a spark of something genuine and real in these words like straw, and that they are aimed in the right direction, maybe towards a star. I hope that I can learn to be at peace, balls to bones, not knowing or understanding everything, and that I can learn to walk the ways of love with more confidence, and can learn to be more empathetic towards those who are different from me. I hope that I've gathered enough of the fluttering pieces to say something with some weight or value, to lay some kind of foundation, though perhaps leaving some fluttering pieces to fly, leaving a little room for mystery, perhaps the kind of mystery that will embrace me in the end, like a mother embraces her child. I hope I've been able to swim through all of the stormy waters here, and that there is a baby in all of this bathwater, and some proof in all this pudding. I hope that I will have it in me to carry my cross, but also hope that I will not be alone in carrying it. I hope that I have been able in some small way to invite you and include you in my reaching, my longing, my aching, as messy and awkward and weird as it may be, and that there is a kind of communion between us here somehow, holding up our hands and our hearts, as you read between the lines and as I write between them. I hope I and all of us can hold onto the magic, that in growing up we don't lose it entirely, I hope that even beneath the clay of time it is still part of us somehow, and perhaps we are a part of it. I hope that I will always have the strength and courage in me to not give up, and to remember that life is not only sorrow but also joy, joy as poignant as grief. I hope that I will continue to be able to see the signs and be able to follow them wherever they may lead, even if it gets a little weird and wild. I hope that one day I too, like my friend Erin, will set foot on white shores leading into a far green country with a swift sunrise, walking into a wonderful light, and will see face to face and will know even as I am fully known. I hope that I can find the dreams I need to find in the mines of my soul so I can carry them into the world, whether the world in me or the world around me. I hope that my soul can find somewhere to stand, that my threads can catch somewhere firm, even if they may feel like petty cobwebs sometimes. I hope that I can learn to respect and love and accept myself, even if I may still be a scared kid deep inside. I hope that I can find the middle path, or the way, between those extremes of open oceans and barren deserts, between darkness and light, chaos and order, yin and yang, that I can find the balance. I hope that I will somehow be able to navigate to the proper shore in the worst of the storms, even if it is in the sea itself, though also hope that there is something, or someone, with me here in this little boat of mine, holding my hands and letting me know to not be afraid and to not give up, and promising to help me along the way, sailing right behind. I hope that I can hold on, hold on, and remember that no, no, no, I’m not alone, and even when I am crying in the dark, believing that one day I will understand.

And lastly, I hope that, after having picked away at this post for about a month, that something here in all of this straw of mine speaks to you, encourages you, challenges you, or in some way or another helps you along your way. I hope that we can all stumble along the way together, here and now in this weird and wild world.

[kayincolwyn]

Mad World (reflection, 10/28/2018)

When I was about 19 or 20, after my parents had split up, for about six months or so and for the first and only time in my life, I was living on my own, in a rental room in this old lady’s house, in St. Johns on the outskirts of Portland, where I was working my first job at a McDonald’s, and that was when I first watched this now cult classic film called Donnie Darko, and when I got to the end of the film, sitting there alone on a bed watching a TV in some stranger’s house, and heard Gary Jules’ cover of Mad World (originally by Tears For Fears), I was so moved that I wept.

For those who haven’t seen it, Donnie Darko is the story of a somewhat outcast and antisocial high schooler (much as I was when I was in high school), played by Jake Gyllenhall, who, after an engine of a plane crashes into his house, and specifically into his room, when he is away, begins experiencing visions and other weird happenings in his life, and begins losing touch with reality as he tries to understand what is going on and what some higher power seems to want from him, all while he meets and falls in love with this girl named Gretchen.  Eventually events lead up to Gretchen’s death when she is hit by a car, and then everything falls into place, and he finds himself traveling back in time, and he realizes that he was meant to be there and die on that day when the plane engine crashed into his room, which will spare Gretchen’s life at the cost of his life and the cost of them ever knowing one another. In this scene, as Mad World plays in the background, we see shots of different people throughout his town that we see throughout the film, sitting in their rooms in the middle of the night, smoking or drinking or crying or just starting blankly into the dark, people who during the day pretend to be things that they’re not or wear masks or keep secrets, all while Donnie laughs alone in his room on that fateful day, knowing that death is coming for him, but embracing it to save someone he loves who will not know who saved her or that she was even saved at all. I believe he laughs as he finds the comedy in the tragedy, the joy in the sadness, the light in the madness...

Looking back, I think I was deeply moved by this not only because of that beautiful cover of Mad World by Gary Jules, but also because this scene showcased the sadness and, yes, the madness of the world, in how we say or do things in life that don’t reflect who we really are or who we really want to be, just to survive or to get by or to fit in or for reasons that we don’t even really know ourselves, all while under the surface and behind closed doors we feel empty or alone or broken or wounded, not even really knowing how to express how we feel... and yet it also showcased the beauty in knowing that we’re all in the same boat, we’re all human, so we’re not alone in all of this, in trying to cope and figure out this thing that we call life, and the beauty in love and relationship and giving to and sacrificing for others and how that can give our lives a sense of meaning and purpose in a world that otherwise doesn’t seem to make a whole lot of sense. In this post I wanted to try and talk about this, about how maybe we can find, or at least try to find, like I believe Donnie does in the film, some kind of meaning and purpose in this world that is so full of sadness and madness, or at least that’s my aim here... There have been times in my life when I have experienced nothing but sadness and madness, whether because of stressful or painful circumstances or because of internal existential struggles, times when I have been that person crying or staring blankly in the dark, empty and alone and broken and wounded, and yet I’ve also been someone who was comforted or encouraged by others, or has been someone who has comforted and encouraged others, and someone who has found some meaning and purpose in love and relationship (even in spite of its many ups and downs) and has both received from others and given to others, and all of this lives within me simultaneously, because, as poet Walt Whitman once said, “I am large, I contain multitudes”.

I recently discovered and have become a fan of the young Norwegian musician Aurora Aksnes (and I recently purchased a ticket to a concert here in Portland next February, which I will be looking forward to), whose music is as creative as it is thoughtful, and whose personality is very unique and refreshing, as she has a pure and childlike spirit while also having an intelligence and wisdom beyond her years. Many of her fans consider her something of a real life Luna Lovegood, who is one of the more popular characters from the Harry Potter universe (and who also happens to be my favorite HP character), known for her eccentricity and non-conformity as well as her wise and empathetic nature.  Of course Aurora is just a human being like you or me, and no doubt with her own fair share of faults and flaws, who makes mistakes and doesn’t know everything and doesn’t have all the answers, but she has an angelic or fey-like quality about her that is wonderful and attractive. She calls her fans ‘Warriors and Weirdos’, and I think she is a combination of those herself, a warrior and a weirdo, and I believe she encourages others to embrace those qualities within themselves. When you watch interviews with Aurora she comes off as very authentic, speaking and acting in sometimes strange and funny ways, but you can tell she is entirely herself without putting on any airs, which makes her very endearing and charming and magnetic, but then much of her music, which she writes herself, is thought provoking and heartfelt, clearly written by someone who has thought and felt about life, both the darkness and the light in it, deeply. I wanted to focus on a couple of her songs, which are among my favorites of hers, one from her debut album All My Demons Greeting Me As A Friend, and the second from her new album Infections Of A Different Kind (Step 1). Through The Eyes Of A Child, a beautiful and moving song that has a lullaby-like quality to it, was Aurora’s favorite song from her debut album according to an interview from 2016, and in the interview she said this of its meaning: ‘It’s a very important song for me that’s about getting older and seeing the real world and how cruel people can be. You discover this more and more as you grow older, and it gets quite hard on your shoulders knowing all of these things. So it’s about being able to see the beauty in everything and everyone, and innocence in the world, which I miss.’ Here are the lyrics to the song: World is covered by our trails Scars we covered up with paint Watch them preach in sour lies I would rather see this world through the eyes of a child, Through the eyes of a child Darker times will come and go Times you need to see her smile And mother's hands are warm and mild I would rather feel this world through the skin of a child Through the skin of a child When a human strokes your skin That is when you let them in Let them in before they go I would rather feel alive with a childlike soul With a childlike soul Please don't leave me here I remember when I first discovered this song I listened to it on my music player while walking home from work in the middle of the night and it moved me to tears as I resonated so strongly with it. Like Aurora I’ve learned as I’ve gotten older that life is full of pain and as humans it is so easy for us to hurt or disappoint one another, and then sometimes we find ourselves longing, as impossible as it may seem, for a world where it wasn’t like that, a world where there was only joy and where we just loved one another, a simpler and kinder world where we didn’t feel any need to hide ourselves from others for fear of getting hurt or being misunderstood, or where we didn’t feel as though we were just stumbling through the dark, or where we didn’t feel like we were alone. And tonight as I was writing this I watched a live video of Aurora singing this (which you can watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncG9zTzsisE) and when she sings that last line, ‘please don’t leave me here’, there is this look on her face afterwards that’s so real and moving and that brought me to tears, as it felt like she was putting her soul into those words, and because I have felt, ached, and prayed, those words at times myself... I’m reminded of Mad World, which I quoted above, where in the chorus it says ‘the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had’, which certainly sounds morbid, but I have to admit there is a part of me that looks forward to death, not because I hate life or because I really want to die (and please don’t take this as me being suicidal, as that’s not where I’m at, though I have been there in the past no doubt), but because, in spite of my uncertainty about life beyond this one, I hope that if there is life beyond this one that it is more like that kind of life, life through the eyes of a child, that Aurora sings about.  And it’s not so much that part of me wants to die, but more that part of me wants to die to a world full of sadness and madness and instead find myself in a better one full of joy and light, if that makes any sense. But I don’t believe that we have to, or even should, wait for death to see if that might bring us into that kind of world, even if we may have hope for that, as we can also try to create that kind of world here, or at least as much as we are able. And I think that’s what people like Aurora are trying to do, and I suppose what all of us who are capable of love in this world try to do for those we love.

The next song, Infections Of A Different Kind, the title track and the final track of her new album, was, according to Aurora in a recent interview, the most personal song on her new album, which came to her in the middle of the night and was the seed that inspired her new album.  I feel like this song in some way addresses that desire to create a better world (and here’s a link to the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bdasfyaPjA). Here are the lyrics: It's a feeling growing old with time Like a restless in the leaves coming down The world is a hole and we all seem to fall Down and down And the universe is growing tall And we all are caving into dreams of this space Unfolding her arms cannot do any harm Violent contractions And if there is a God, would we even know his name? And if there is a God, I think he would shake his head And turn away So belong to us all Be God in the shape of a girl Who walks this world And I beg, I beg to be drained From the pain I have soaked myself in So I can stay Okay, and more than okay for a while For a while, for a while Infections of a different kind The world is being attacked by your pain If I am the world then why would I hurt All that is living? And if there is a God, would he then believe in us? And if there is a God, I think he can't hear all of us Belong to us all Be God in the shape of a girl Who walks this world And I beg, I beg to be drained From the pain I've soaked myself in So I can stay Okay, and more than okay for a while For a while, for a while This is the breath, this is the breath... There was a discussion on one of her Youtube videos that I was reading tonight that came out of a fan wondering if this song was questioning and even jabbing at belief in God and I can understand why some people would take it that way (though as far as I can tell Aurora seems to be a very spiritual person, if not particularly religious), but I resonated more with what another fan said: ‘For me, I would say that she is rather asking us to be reflective on what we've done for each other so far, and how much more we can do in the years to come. "I think he would shake his head" and "Would he believe in us?" are powerful statements that make us realize that the only one causing our pain and distress is ourselves. To me, she's not saying that there isn't a God, she’s saying it doesn't matter if there is, because he is not responsible for our problems that we created.’   I can agree with this for the most part, and I would add that I felt her line where she says ‘Be God in the shape of a girl who walks this world’, rather than being some blasphemous statement as some might take it, is referring to that spark of the divine in every one of us (or the image of God as it is referred to in the Bible, or the inner light as Quakers call it), including herself, and then to how we have the ability to be a kind of divine presence (where one might say that God is working through us) in one another’s lives if we choose to be. This reminds me, putting this into a more Christian context, of this quote from Catholic saint Teresa of Avila: “Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which he looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.” Now as I’ve said elsewhere I no longer consider myself Christian, at least not in a traditional sense, but I can resonate with this idea of our being a channel or conduit for the divine in one another’s lives, and I believe this is kind of what Aurora meant or was trying to say through her song, and there can be truth in this whether one believes in a God or not. Even the end where she says ‘this is the breath, this is the breath’ reminds me of the Greek word pneuma, which means both breath and spirit, so she could also be saying ‘this is the spirit, this is the spirit’.  Of course I’m not really sure whether that was what Aurora was getting at here (would love to pick her brain about this song by the way), but in the context of the song I think it makes sense. I admit that I don’t feel as though I am really a channel or conduit for anything like a divine presence much of the time. It’s something I aspire to be, and maybe sometimes in spite of myself I can be that, but much of the time I feel that I fall short of that. I often find myself feeling irritated and annoyed by people, and I often feel numb and apathetic to others and their lives. I have my bad habits and negative tendencies, my faults and flaws, and I certainly don’t feel very angelic or Christlike or whatever one may call it much of the time, and if anything I often feel like something of, well, an asshole. I know there are people that love and care about me that would disagree with this feeling I have, which I appreciate, but it’s something I often feel regardless. I feel like I contribute my own share of sadness and madness to the world you could say, and though that may not be my intention, or any of our intentions really when we do that, it is what it is and there’s really no way around it save for me to try and balance that out by bringing more joy and light into the world, as I believe Aurora and many people, or maybe even most people, are trying to do. As author George Eliot (aka Mary Anne Evans) once said, ‘ What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other?’  I think this is a question that we all have to wrestle with, especially in times like these where there is so much division and fear and uncertainty, where that sense of being in a world full of sadness and madness is all the more acute (or at least that’s how it feels for many of us) and it’s not an easy question when many of us, like myself, struggle just to deal with our own problems, let alone anyone else’s, but it’s a question we have to ask ourselves because we all share this world, and in large part I believe how we choose to live our lives in it, or what we choose to bring into this world, can add either to its sadness or joy, to its madness or light.  In Donnie Darko, Donnie was willing to give his life to save the life of someone he loved. Aurora, like many artists out there, gives her time and energy to her music to hopefully bring some more joy and light into the world. What can I do to make the world better, to make it a simpler and kinder one? Honestly I’m still trying to figure that out.

Last weekend I spent most of the day with some of my family on my grandpa Allan’s side, including his wife Miriam, my aunt Angela, my aunt Shannon and her husband Jeff, and my cousin Andrea.   My grandpa Allan passed away from cancer in March of last year, and he would have been 82 years old on October 21st, so we observed his birthday by visiting his gravesite. I remember as we gathered around his grave I felt awkward and uncertain, as I imagine all of us did to some extent, because death can’t help but leave us feeling awkward and uncertain on some level I think, and yet I know that we all felt, and feel, love for him, and we tried to, and continue to try to, honor him, being grateful for the part that he played in our lives, for the ways in which he loved us, gave to us, and brought joy and light into our lives. We went to lunch at Shari’s and I remember talking with my aunt Shannon who was sitting next to me much of the time, and I remember telling her how Allan’s story of how he found his faith resonated with me, the story of being a foster child who was often abandoned and rejected, who then had an experience where he felt that God told him that he would not abandon him or reject him as others had, and it resonated with me because it had a message that was so universal and childlike, so basic and primal, and uncomplicated by theology and doctrine, that I believe almost anyone could connect with it, that desire and longing to be unconditionally loved and accepted where you are and as you are, and that that desire and longing can be answered. Perhaps, much like Aurora, through that experience Allan learned to see through the eyes of a child. Maybe at bottom he had the faith of a child, and even if he may have built different theology and doctrine around that experience that he had over the years, that experience, and the message within it, was still somewhere at the heart of his faith, and I can resonate with that. After lunch I was at Allan’s house, and Miriam and Angie gave me some of Allan’s things that they wanted me to have, including a tie and some cufflinks and some of his rocks from his rock collection (he was a big rockhound), and I spent some time with my cousin Andrea, connecting over music (including some music by Aurora, which she liked), and I remember looking at pictures of Allan on the walls and thanking him for whatever hand he may have had in helping me to connect more with his family, and I remember telling Andrea that I felt like maybe that was his final gift to me. We didn’t really discuss politics at all throughout the day, although it is something that Allan’s family has had some conflict over from what I’ve heard as there are some in the family who are more conservative and others who are more liberal, and since the 2016 election there has been some tension among some of the family members. The only time it ever came up in any way was when Angie, who is a little more conservative herself, pointed out a letter that acknowledged Allan’s service in Korea that was signed by President Trump, and she wondered what I thought of that and if I would like a copy, and I told her that even though I don’t like Trump myself that if it’s something that is meant to honor Allan then I’m okay with it as that’s what really matters to me, and not who signs it, and I would be okay with having a copy. I think it’s safe to say, being the elephant in the room, that politics causes much of the sadness and madness in this country and in this world, and I think this is something that people on both sides of the political spectrum can agree on. But my day with Allan’s family was a reminder to me of a potential answer to much of the division and tension, the sadness and madness, in this country and this world, that being the awareness that we’re all in the same boat, that we’re all human, that we’re not alone in this, that love and relationship is what matters most of all, and a desire, and really a choice, to try and find what brings us together rather than what divides us. I may not completely agree with Allan’s family when it comes to politics or religion or when it comes to this or that, but at the end of the day we all loved and love Allan and we all miss him and hope to see him again whenever we cross the veil, and that is something that we all have in common in spite of whatever differences we may have, and while as human beings we may all be capable of bringing more sadness and madness into the world, we are all equally capable of bringing more joy and light into it as well, and into one another’s lives, just as Allan did. And just as Donnie Darko left an impact on the world after his death, I believe Allan did as well, just as he did in life, and maybe we can all do that.

A couple weeks ago I watched the Netflix series The Haunting Of Hill House, which I really enjoyed and found equally frightening and moving. The basic premise of the series is there is this family, the Crains, who move into Hill House for a few months and begin having strange experiences which lead to the mother’s suicide, and as the season progresses you find out what happened in the house from the perspectives of each of the family members in flashbacks as you also see how their experiences in the house have continued to impact them as adults, leading to different ways of coping with the trauma, and effecting their relationships with one another and with others. The two children who were impacted most by the events that took place when they were in Hill House were the two youngest children, Luke and Nell, who were twins and have a psychic twin connection. My favorite scene in the whole series was in the last episode when Nell (who is found dead in Hill House after a nervous breakdown not long after the death of her husband, presumably killing herself) reunites with her siblings in spirit and reassures all of them, forgiving them for however they let her down in life, and letting them know that she is not truly gone. When Luke, who was closest to her, tells her that he doesn’t know how to go on without her, she responds tenderly:  “There’s no without. I’m not gone. I’m scattered into so many pieces, sprinkled on your life like new snow.” I remember being really moved when I heard this, thinking of Allan and others that I’ve lost in recent years. While my own beliefs about life after death may not be in line with this in a literal sense, as I believe, or hope, that a consciousness, or a soul, continues somehow after death not just in the memories of those who loved them but also in some other dimension that is beyond (if also in some way connected to) this one. But I interpret this as the impact that that person had on us (and continue to have on us even after their death), all the different ways that they loved us and gave to us, all the ways they brought joy and light into our lives, sprinkled onto our lives like new snow. And whether you may believe in a God or not, whether you may believe in life after death or not, I believe the impact you leave, the legacy you leave, matters. Even my mom, who is a self-proclaimed atheist, hopes that when she dies that she will be have made a difference in the lives of people she loved, and maybe in the world too, and that she will be remembered well.  I believe she hopes, as many of us do I think, that she will leave this oftentimes sad and mad world just a little better for her being in it, that she can do her part to take away a little of the sadness and madness and bring a little more joy and light into it. While I don’t consider myself as an atheist, I can resonate with this desire and this hope, as I share it, even if I may also desire and hope for some kind of life beyond this one where I am reunited with Allan and others. In short, if in living our lives we made life a little less difficult for others than maybe we have lived life well...

It’s only a few days till Halloween, one of my favorite holidays, when children, and children at heart, dress up in costumes and go trick or treating or simply party and have fun, embracing the spooky and creepy, and in some small way answering darkness and the night and death with laughter as Donnie Darko did, bringing joy and light into it, seeing the world through the eyes of a child, and maybe being channels and conduits of something, well, holy, in what some may see as unholy, being divine sparks in the night, and I think it’s kind of wonderful. The world is kind of wonderful, and it’s kind of horrible, the world is kind of funny, and it’s kind of sad, the world is kind of beautiful, and it’s kind of mad, and I dream of a better world, a simpler and kinder one, beyond this one, but I also dream and hope to help make this world I am living in a better one if I can, even if only in some small way, and it’s hard to know how to express everything that I feel about this world, and it’s hard to take everything that I go through in it, and people are running around and I’m running around, and it can feel pretty crazy sometimes, that’s for sure. But like Donnie I will keep trying to find some kind of meaning and purpose in this world in which I live, and like Aurora I will try to hold onto my childlike soul and be open to being a channel and conduit of the divine in the world, and like Allan I’ll try to hold onto those experiences that help me to feel unconditionally loved and accepted, as I hope like him to make an impact on the lives of others, even after it is my turn to cross the veil, hopefully leaving a little more joy and light behind me in this world than sadness and madness, leaving pieces of myself sprinkled over other’s lives like new snow. And I know that this world can be very very mad indeed, but I know it can also be very very beautiful, because, like me, and like all of us, the world is large and it contains multitudes. 

[kayincolwyn]

White Man (reflection, 8-19-18)

Right up front, before I go any further here, I wanted to say that this may be one of my more difficult posts to write, because it involves controversial and painful, and all too complex and multifaceted, issues that deeply effect this country and really the whole world, issues that put people on the offensive or the defensive or both, and that bring up a lot of anger and frustration on all sides, and that remind us of the as yet unhealed wounds of the past and the many problems that remain with us even today. I’m going to try and tackle racism, and most specifically racism against Africans and African Americans (partly because this is what I am most familiar with and also to help narrow my focus in this post), and also tackle what it feels like to be in a position of ‘privilege’ and trying to respond to that, as well as trying to look at empathy, and well, what it is to be human in this world. Tall order? Yeah it sure is but I’ll give it a shot anyway. So first off I’m white, and on top of that I’m a straight cisgender male, so I know that in some circles these days I would be considered very ‘privileged’, and I acknowledge that and know that who I am or how I was born into this world may give my voice a little less weight in some circles because I am seen that way, and I can kind of understand that (though I will try and share some of my mixed thoughts and feelings about the idea of privilege later in this post). But with that said I would still like to share my thoughts on this, or at least try to. To start off, as a kid I admit that I didn’t give much thought to the issue of race, if at all, but I acknowledge that being a white kid in America I probably didn’t really have to. I can only imagine that growing up as a person of color here is more often that not a much different experience. Throughout my childhood I didn’t even know that many people of color except for a handful here and there. I think the first black person that I knew or had any kind of interaction with was my music teacher in elementary school, Mr. Harris I think his name was, and I don’t remember giving much thought to the color of his skin, I just remember, like with any other teacher I had, that there were times I liked him and times that I didn’t depending on what he did as a teacher. I think he was just like any other adult to me then, adults being these mysterious and often frustrating or perplexing entities in general when you’re a kid. And I think at least as a kid that was kind of my thinking on it, I may have noticed that some people looked different from me but it wasn’t something I gave much thought to. The person of color I interacted most with growing up was my grandma Taj’s husband Joe, who I would see from time to time from when I was a kid and over the years, although for reasons unrelated to his race I have had issues with him, namely because of how he has talked to me and treated me at different times, especially as I got older, relating in large part to my masculinity and my not meeting his standard for it that were really hurtful to me, so sadly we don’t have a relationship anymore as I have had to distance myself from him... But beyond that I will say no more on him as this really isn’t the right context to delve into that. But anyways, as a teen I started to notice race more, like when my dad would use racial slurs for different races when he was angry that I learned were racist (though just to let you know my dad has mellowed out and changed since then, so don’t go jumping on him just yet) or when I would see or hear things in school, and as time went on I think it’s something I became more and more aware of as a problem in our world.

One of the movies I watched often as a teen was the 1989 film Glory, that starred actors Matthew Broderick, Denzel Washington, Morgan Freeman, and Cary Elwes, and which looked at the true story of the 54th Massachusetts, which was the first all black regiment in the Union Army during the American Civil War. It told a story of black men who were dealing not only with the threat of those in the Confederacy who wanted to return them to slavery, but also with the bigotry and prejudice of their white compatriots in the Union Army, and how they confronted that and answered that by showing their courage in battle, and by fighting for freedom and equality for their people.  With a great script, great acting (Denzel Washington even won a supporting actor Oscar for his role), beautiful cinematography, and a gorgeous and memorable score by the late James Horner, it remains to this day my all time favorite war film (and it is also in many ways an anti war film, showing how tragic and horrifying war is), and I was moved by it and think it was formative for me in some way, giving me a sense in a creative and well told (if not completely but mostly historically accurate) story of our painful history here in America as well as the dignity of people of color as human beings. It was things like this, and also my mom who taught me and my sister to try to judge people one person at a time rather than as a group, and by their actions, rather than by race, gender, orientation, class, religion, etc, that helped form how I think about race. In my late teens and into my 20s I began to interact more with people of color, and other races in general, than I did as a kid.  My closest connection was with a Latino guy named James (though I won’t share his last name here as I want to try and respect his privacy) that started around my junior year in high school, and I remember we would sometimes have discussions about race, as well as many other things, and for a few years he was basically my best friend, and we would hang out all the time. He was a really good friend to me through my late teens and early 20s, and really helped me come out of my shell more when I was very much a shy and awkward guy (and still am to an extent, but I’m a little more sociable these days), and I am really thankful to him for that, although sadly we began drifting apart in my mid 20s and have since become estranged and are no longer friends. Sometimes I wonder if my being a white guy and not fully understanding where he was coming from, even if I tried, has played some part in our estrangement, as James always felt very strongly about these issues, and feels even more strongly about them now, but I can’t say for sure... Maybe someday we can try to reconcile and work through our differences, or at least I hope we can... Aside from my friendship with James, I was exposed to a lot of other races and different kinds of people when I started working, including in my first job at McDonalds when I was about 20, and then later in my years as a janitor. Through work I have connected with people from all walks of life, including Africans, Latinos, Asians, and Middle Easterners, and it has helped me to have a more cosmopolitan view of the world I guess you could say, or at least it has encouraged me to try to have a view like that. But even with my trying to hold this view and trying not to be bigoted or prejudiced myself, I know that I’m not perfect, and am still a work in progress.  There have been times that I have had random negative thoughts or feelings come up about other races, even if I didn’t express them, and even if I quickly recognized that I was wrong to think or feel them. For example I have been working in downtown Portland for the last few months and it seems like 9 out 10 people that ask me for money are black (and it doesn’t help that I am struggling financially at the moment so can’t really afford to help) and sometimes it goes through my mind that maybe black people are more likely to beg for money than anyone else, but I try not to think that and also try to keep in mind that often times black people struggle more in this country so maybe there is good reason why there are more of them asking for money...  Anyways, much of our society has been so immersed in these kinds of thoughts and feelings about race that have been passed on from generation to generation, that I think it can be all too easy to fall into them, even if you are actively trying not to be bigoted or prejudiced against other races.

In my last post, The Reality That Is Real, I touched on my close (albeit very much long distance) friendship with my good friend Annie, a lovely and tenderhearted African woman around my age who lives in Nairobi, Kenya, and she and I have had many discussions about race, and she has shared some of her struggles as a black woman even in a country that is predominantly black, like being discriminated against by Indians that she interacts with (from what I understand Africans and Indians have some long standing tensions between them), as well as a lot of indirect discrimination from predominantly white countries like the US and the UK, as well as in many other countries, including Asian countries, when it comes to things like travel and access to resources because of an unspoken but nevertheless obvious dislike and distrust of Africans in many places. From what Annie has told me, basically all over the world it seems as though Africans are looked down on and seen as a problem that no one really wants to deal with, which is why I sometimes feel as though Africans, as a race, and not discounting the struggles of other races (the struggles of Native Americans for example come to mind, but I don’t have time to get into that here) have had to deal with more BS than just about any other race.  I was recently talking with Annie about, at least from the outside looking in, what it is like for African Americans and how they generally have an even deeper and more direct struggle with racism here in America, and she acknowledges that when it comes to that specific issue African Americans at least currently have to deal with that problem more so than Africans generally. But Anne, on top of having to deal with some racism even in a country where her race is the majority, has had to deal with a lot of tribalism, especially as her tribe is the one that other tribes seem to hate most, even if she herself had no choice in being born into that tribe and is truly one of the most loving and giving people that I know, and it saddens and angers me sometimes that there are people who don’t see what a great person she is but only see her tribe. During the 2007 elections in Kenya there was a great deal of violence and thousands were killed, and Annie herself saw some pretty horrendous things that have haunted her ever since, and she has often been in fear for her safety or even her life with all of the protests and terrorist attacks that have taken place on a fairly regular basis in Kenya and throughout much of Africa.

I recently finished reading A Long Way Gone: Memoirs Of A Boy Soldier, by Ishmael Beah, where the author talked about his experiences in the civil war in Sierra Leone in the 90s, and his descriptions of things he witnessed, and also what he himself did as a child soldier, are needless to say horrific. His story is ultimately hopeful on some level though as he was eventually rehabilitated from the brainwashing he suffered in the military and while he lost his parents and siblings and many friends in the war he found a new family and friends in America, and the civil war did eventually come to an end there and while there may still be some tensions in Sierra Leone, I think things are by comparison more peaceful now... but still it was a sobering account of how much turmoil and violence there has been in Africa. I am currently reading through Crossing The Heart Of Africa, by Julian Smith, which is the author’s account of his travels across Africa, following the path of this little known explorer of the late 19th century named Ewart Grogan, and at one point in the book he goes through Rwanda and visits this museum and memorial for the horrific genocide that took place there, also in the 90s, where hundreds of thousands (possibly pushing a million) were killed while the outside world, to our shame, did next to nothing. I’ve watched a couple movies about Rwanda and have read up on it a bit, but I could relate to Julian (who is a white guy like me), when he said that he felt like he was at a stranger’s funeral being there, feeling like an outsider looking in. And it’s as an outsider that I wonder about terrible things like this that happen on the other side of the world, or anywhere in the world really, including here in America, as well as terrible things that a close and very dear friend of mine has had a taste of and that I myself have never had to experience... The prevailing prejudiced ideas among many are that Africans are more naturally aggressive and violent than any other race, and when you think about what happened in places like Sierra Leone and Rwanda it can be really easy to think that, but then you have to remember things like what the Germans did to the Jews in the Holocaust, or what the Japanese did to the Chinese in the Rape of Nanking, or yes, what white Europeans did to the Native peoples here, taking their land and nearly wiping them out, and of course what they did to African peoples through colonialism in Africa and of course through the whole institution of slavery in Europe and here in America.  No race has a corner market on aggression, violence, or yes, evil, because that isn’t a racial problem but a human problem. The same could be said here in America where people of color are often seen as more naturally aggressive and violent or as more likely to cause trouble or commit crimes, a prejudiced idea and assumption that presumably drives too many in law enforcement and the justice system to treat people of color differently than they would white people like me, cops statistically being more likely to use lethal force against them, judges statistically being more likely to give them harsh sentences, etc. But I partly wanted to bring all this up to say that it seems as though Africans, whether they may live on the continent from which they came from or live elsewhere in the world, to put it bluntly, really sometimes do seem to more often than not get the shit end of the stick in this world... And again I don’t want to make light of the struggles of other races, including those of Latinos, Asians, Middle Easterners, Native Americans, etc, but I just wanted to try and highlight what many Africans the world over, including people like my friend Annie, struggle with, or at least from the perspective of an outsider like myself.

Like recently Annie was sharing this video with me of a white ‘missionary’ pastor from America who was drunkenly cussing out and verbally debasing these African men in a hotel in Uganda, which has been making the rounds online. He has since been arrested and my guess is he will likely face some jail time (and according to Annie, Ugandan jails have an infamous reputation so it will no doubt be a very unpleasant experience for him) and then probably deportation back to America. The video is very disturbing, especially when the man says to one of the men something like ‘you’re not human, you’re not even human’, which basically sums up racism at its core, at least to me. To me racism is basically the idea that ‘you are not one of us’ or ‘you are less than us’. I think it’s another kind of tribalism where one group feels that they are superior over another for some crazy reason or another. Sometimes the reasons for those feelings of superiority are maybe a little more easily understood and grasped (though certainly not excused or condoned), like the Hutus deep hatred of the Tutsis in Rwanda after the Tutsis had oppressed the Hutus for hundreds of years (although this is only what I’ve read and I am no historian and others may not agree with that assessment of their history) and there were building tensions that eventually exploded into horrific violence, or maybe a little less easily understood or grasped, like when white Europeans somehow, seemingly out of nowhere, got it into their heads that they were better than everyone else and were chosen by God to rule over others, but whatever the case one tribe feeling superior over another on the most basic level is never a good thing and always inevitably leads to suffering and pain. And this all brings me to the question of where is my place in all of this? I’m a white guy, and while I am not sure whether or not my English or Irish ancestors played any part in the evils of colonialism or slavery, I do feel some measure of responsibility just by association I guess. I’ve shared these feelings with my friend Annie and she tells me not to blame myself for what has happened in the past because it wasn’t me as an individual who did those things, but I still feel like I should at least try to do my part to heal some of the wounds of the past or to make the world a better place. This is a real struggle for me as I admit I am not the most civically engaged person, not being one to protest or to stand up to the powers as it were. I admit that in a general sense this is a fact about myself that I struggle with, having never been very motivated to do much at all about society’s problems beyond just voting every couple of years, and trying to be a more or less decent person and citizen myself. I think this is one of the reasons why I have always felt a little uncomfortable with social justice warriors (as they are called, and often in a disparaging way) is because deep down I feel a sense of guilt for not being very proactive, and confusion for not being able to fully explain why I’m not... my social anxiety is part of it I’m sure, my lack of confidence in my ability to effect change is another, as well as a fear of getting hurt, tiredness from work and a desire to focus more on family and friends than people I don’t know, and a feeling that most issues are far more complex and multifaceted than are acknowledged in the more often than not dualistically-minded public sphere that sees things as more black and white than gray which they usually are (although not always)... But still I don’t even fully understand it myself why I don’t engage that much, and sometimes I really wish I was more motivated to do so. I guess my writing something like this is a tentative step in that direction...  I feel that writing is something I am pretty good at, and I am more confident in it than standing on a street corner holding a sign, and while I don’t have any illusions that many people will read this blog post or that something like this would ever go viral, I do hope that putting my voice out there into the ether will have some kind of meaning, even if only to a few people. With that said, I wanted to delve into the idea of white privilege. First off I wanted to be a little bold and say that I think the word ‘privilege’ is problematic for a lot of people. I’ve heard a lot of white people get defensive when this word is used, and while some would say that this defensiveness is ‘white fragility’ (another term that is often used nowadays), and that may be true in some cases, I do think often class comes into this.  There are a lot of poor white people here in America, and I think when most people hear the word ‘privilege’ in any kind of context what they hear is something like ‘a cushy and easy life, like rich people have’ which is really not the experience of a lot of white people, including a janitor like myself. That’s not to say that I believe that that is what is meant by white privilege or to say that I don’t believe that white privilege is something that exists (and I do believe that it exists and I will try and look at what I think it means in a moment) but I think the word ‘privilege’ is kind of a loaded word for a lot of people who are just struggling to get by and when a lot of people who are struggling to get by hear that word they automatically will latch onto it and go on the defensive, which sadly can mean ignoring the whole context of what you are trying to say. I think we need to remember that it’s important what words we choose to use in public discussion because words have weight.  I think advantage (i.e., white advantage) would be a better and a little less loaded with class word than privilege myself, but I am just some random dude on the internet so I know I don’t really have the power to single-handedly change the nature of social discourse. Anyways, I ran across an analogy for white privilege that I found really helpful in understanding it that I would like to share here to give some idea on what I think about it and what I think it is. Over the last couple of months I’ve been listening to this cool podcast called Harry Potter and the Sacred Text where two friends, Casper and Vanessa, Casper being an openly gay British guy and Vanessa being a staunchly feminist  Jewish lady, go through the Harry Potter series together as some might go through the Bible or the Koran, approaching it as a sacred text, delving deeply into it, looking for meaning and application to their own lives, while also ribbing eachother and cracking jokes and having a good time with it along the way. It’s an interesting and insightful and fun podcast that I’ve been enjoying and it has also given me some things to chew on, and Casper and Vanessa, while having strong convictions and definitely having more of a liberal mindset (whereas I tend to be more left of center) are empathetic and try to come at things in a balanced way, which I appreciate and respect.

But to the analogy... in one of their earlier episodes in the first season they delved into the theme of white privilege (albeit carefully as they are both white and so like me are trying to look at the problem from the outside) in the chapter in The Sorcerer’s Stone where Harry first uses the cloak of invisibility.  They said that the cloak could be used as an analogy of white privilege like this: Harry was made invisible by the cloak, being able to avoid a lot of things because of that invisibility, however the cloak does not make him intangible, or he is still solid, meaning that he is still vulnerable to attack from those who have the ability to see him through the cloak, and of course when wearing the cloak he could still get tired or sick or run into walls or trip and fall, etc.  They explained that this is kind of what white privilege is like.  Being white generally you are less likely to be discriminated against in Western society, less likely to have lethal force used against you by police, more likely to get lighter sentences in prison, more likely to get certain jobs, etc. Being white is a kind of cloak that generally gives you advantages in some areas in other words, whereas being a person of color, or not having that cloak, generally gives you disadvantages in some areas. However, being white doesn’t mean you aren’t human, and doesn’t mean you are immune to many of the potential struggles or problems that being a human being can bring, like being poor, or being sick, or feeling pain, or feeling lonely, or experiencing fear and anxiety, or losing loved ones.  And though they didn’t go into this, I think even Harry himself can be seen as something of an analogy for white privilege. In many ways he is protected and shielded from harm throughout the series because of the undying love of his mother and because of the loyalty and sacrifice of his friends, and he has many abilities that others don’t have and many gifts given to him that others don’t receive. However, he loses both of his loving parents soon after he is born, and then grows up in a loveless home with his aunt and uncle and cousin, and constantly struggles with his past, and throughout the series he experiences a great deal of pain and loss, as well as the weight of a great responsibility to fight against some great evil which he never even asked for. In other words Harry has a lot of advantages but he still has a rough life. I guess I could say the same for myself, where I have never really been discriminated against because of my race as many others have been, and while I have dealt with some sexual harassment at different times in my life from women and gay men I can’t say I have had to deal with it on a very regular basis as many women do, and I admit that have a lot of resources and abilities that many people in the world don’t have... However I was regularly bullied in school growing up, being the skinny and socially awkward kid who couldn’t defend himself well, and I have been hurt and mistreated by others for reasons other than my race or my gender, and I have struggled a lot over the years with depression, emotional turmoil, and loneliness, among other things... So while I know that I have some advantages over others, I can’t say that my life has always been easy for me, and I know I am far from being the only one who could say this. And I guess this is where I wanted to go into the issue of empathy. In the podcast Casper and Vanessa, when talking about white privilege, suggest that maybe a lot of white people, especially white men like myself, and especially those on the right of the political spectrum, may feel angry in part because they feel as though their voices aren’t really being heard, that their struggles and problems aren’t really being acknowledged, and especially by many of those on the left of the political spectrum. I think there may be something to this... we do live in a time when there is a lot of focus on identity politics, and where the struggles of particular groups seem to be highlighted over others, at least in the media. Before I delve more into that I want to say that don’t think that the struggles of particular groups being highlighted is necessarily a bad thing. Minorities have problems that white people like me don’t often have, women have problems that men like me don’t often have, LGBTQ people have problems that straight and cisgender people like me don’t often have, etc. I don’t think these problems should be ignored, and minorities, women, LGBTQ people, etc, all deserve to have their voices heard. But it remains that we are all human, and even if we have cloaks that give us advantages over others, even great advantages, that doesn’t make us immune to suffering and pain and the burden of being human in this often crazy world, and we all want to have our voices heard, we all want to be empathized with, and I don’t think any of us should feel ashamed for wanting that. I think the key to understanding, and accepting, the whole idea of privilege (or advantage as I would prefer to call it to try to avoid the class loaded meaning that people often see in it) is that certain groups of people suffer in certain ways more than other groups, but at the end of the day we all suffer one way or another as human beings.

To illustrate this idea, over the summer I was watching the new Marvel series Cloak and Dagger, which follows the lives of two teenagers who have super powers that are linked and who both experienced a tragedy in the same moment as children that drew them together. Tyrone (or Cloak), is a young black man with powers over darkness, and Tandy (or Dagger), is a young white woman with powers over light.  Anyways there is this one scene in the show where there is a lot of tension between them and they begin to heatedly argue with one another about who has suffered more. Tyrone talks about growing up black and being treated differently and no matter where he goes, and about how his older brother was shot and killed by a cop and how that cop got off scot-free. Tandy talks about being a woman and being objectified by men and almost getting raped, as well as losing her dad in a fatal accident. Eventually their argument comes to a standstill, both of them being shaken by the suffering and pain that the other expressed, a person that they, in spite of their anger, deeply care about, and they walk away both angry and confused. Sadly they don’t really follow up on this discussion at any point, as they just kind of seem to set it aside and move on in the following episode, which I think was something of a missed opportunity, but I thought it reflected well how we, and maybe without really intending to, can sometimes approach suffering and pain in a competitive way.  It is as though many of us will try to one up one another as though it were all some kind of contest that we were wanting to win. I would have loved to see Tyrone and Tandy, after trying to one up one another, simply admit that they both have experienced suffering and pain, just different kinds of suffering and pain, and instead of trying to win as though it were some kind of contest, simply say something like ‘We’ve both been hurt... now how can we help eachother?’ And if I were part of that discussion, as a white man, admittedly being in neither of their shoes, I’d have to say that I haven’t really experienced the kinds of pain that they’ve experienced, namely the pain of being black in America or a woman in a society where men are often on top, but I could say that as a human being like themselves, even with my cloak like advantages over them, have struggled and been hurt, and even deeply so, if for different reasons and in different ways, and so while I may not fully understand what their specific pain feels like, I do understand what pain feels like, what my pain feels like, as a human being, and maybe we could try to find common ground and try to work together on making this world a more just and empathetic one.  Of course I know that not everyone sees things this way...

Like recently I was listening to this podcast that a couple of friends do, these two nerdy girls who are also both popular Youtubers mainly known for their mutual love of all things Harry Potter, who brought in another friend of theirs, who is African American, for one of their episodes, where they talk about Black Panther. During the podcast they had a debate about the character Killmonger, who was a sympathetic villain played by Michael B Jordan, and they were wondering whether or not he was right in his plan to use the power of Wakanda to try to enslave or wipe out those who oppressed his people, that being namely white people like myself. While one of the girls tried to argue that while Killmonger’s feelings about all of the injustice in the world, and especially against Africans, were understandable, going so far as to enslave or wipe out millions or even billions of people was going too far, their African American friend argued that Killmonger was right, and she would just like to sit back with a bowl of popcorn, like Michael Jackson in that popular meme, and watch white people suffer everything that black people have suffered. I admit I found this kind of disturbing, partly because her two friends, both of whom are white, and who are very supportive of her and want people of African descent like her to have more equality and representation in the world, were right there when she was saying this. They kind of laughed it off and moved on, but still I could feel that what she was saying made them feel a little uncomfortable, and I wouldn’t have blamed them if they did. After listening to this I talked with my friend Annie to get her thoughts on it and she thought the lady might just be joking, even if it was in poor taste, and if she wasn’t she thought it was wrong for her to think that way as she is just wanting revenge basically, which is always destructive and only brings more suffering and pain into the world. I can’t say for sure whether she was joking or not, but I am reminded of Rwanda, with the Hutus, who had been oppressed by the Tutsis, seeking to completely wipe out the Tutsis, and all the suffering and pain that brought. Is that what this lady wanted, another Rwanda, only on a worldwide scale? Of course even if that really is her kind of thinking, I know that not every person of color wants to enslave or exterminate all of the white people in the world anymore than every woman wants to enslave or exterminate all of the men in the world, and I believe this kind of radical mindset is rare, even if some conspiracy theorist types may want us to believe otherwise. But even though I believe this mindset is rare, I wanted to bring this up because I believe that the person who has been historically dehumanized by another person turning around and doing the same thing, putting the shoe on the other foot and getting revenge, doesn’t really solve anything, and it continues the cycle of violence and hate, and this goes back to my point earlier about no one having a corner market on aggression, violence, and evil... (And just to add, I recognize that there are groups of whites, like the KKK, who basically want to see people unlike themselves enslaved or wiped out, and this is of course horrible, but still I don’t believe returning evil with evil is the right way to go, whatever group may be calling for it.) And going back to A Long Way Gone, Ishmael Beah talks in his book about how both sides in the civil war did horrific things, and when one side did something horrific it just led to the other side doing something horrific in turn, and so on and so on and it just continued in a downward spiral of violence and death...

I mean, I get it, or at least I am trying to. I recently read I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou, which was a well written and interesting memoir about her childhood here in America.  In places in the book she talks about the feelings that many in her community had about ‘white folks’, where they felt that all the white people, except for maybe ‘crazy ones like John Brown’, would be punished by God in the end for their bigotry, and felt that the blacks would be on top in heaven, and ruling over the whites, if white people were even in heaven at all.  Basically they wanted revenge, but because they didn’t have the power to bring that about in this world they hoped they would get it in the next. Maya didn’t say that these were her personal feelings about it, and she says elsewhere that she felt that there was a lot of self righteousness that she saw and felt in her community, but it just serves to show that it’s a natural human tendency to return hatred with hatred, to answer oppression with oppression, dehumanization with dehumanization, even if it only serves to make things worse and doesn’t really change things.  But I can understand, or at least try to understand, the anger and hurt that leads to that kind of thinking. I do think though that it’s possible to take more positive steps forward. I think a lot of it comes down to relationships, to trying to listen to one another, and respect and care for one another as fellow human beings, while acknowledging that some have advantages in some areas and others have disadvantages in other areas in an often unequal and unjust society, and we should try to work to make the world more equal and just while we also acknowledge that all of us struggle and suffer because we are all human, and being human can be a very hard thing to be in this world. And I think this begins with learning not to dehumanize one another.  For example, going back to that video I mentioned with the deeply bigoted ‘missionary’ in Uganda, in that video I was amazed by how much restraint the Ugandan hotel workers showed with the man, with all that he was saying and even when he tried to grab at them and take swings at them. If I were in their place I may have wanted to kick the shit out of that guy, and they very well could have, but they didn’t, they held back, even when they were no doubt angry and hurt by what he was saying and doing, but they chose to take the high road, and I really admire that, and others have been pointing this out as well, and I think it deserves attention. You could say that these Ugandan men, whom this bigoted man was accusing of ‘hating Jesus’ were doing a better job of turning the other cheek and following the path of non-violence that Jesus followed than this man who claimed to speak for Jesus himself.  Basically they were treating this man better than he deserved, they refused to dehumanize him in the same way that he was dehumanizing them, they refused to sink to his level. I hope that someday he takes that to heart and learns the error of his ways, and learns that Jesus was more like those men, who he was putting down and saying were not even human, than he is or likely has ever been... If what that man was saying and doing is racism, tribalism, in a nutshell, then how those men chose to respond to it is grace, humanity, in a nutshell... Moving forward isn’t going to be easy I know...  beyond electing better leaders and passing better laws, we all have to admit to whatever prejudices we may have and whatever ways in which we dehumanize others (and even if we may feel that they deserve it), whichever side we may be on in the fight, and all those negative thoughts and feelings about those different from us, and work through those things, we all need to forgive one another or even ourselves, we all need to recognize the humanity in one another in spite of our differences... and this is of course all easier said than done. And again I admit that I often feel as though I don’t really do enough to try to heal the wounds of the past or to make the world a better place, but then I think of friends like Annie, who has often told me how much she appreciates me and my friendship, even though I am on the other side of the world and we have never met in person, even though we look different and have lived different lives, and how she has said at times that I have made her feel better after others have treated her poorly, including because of her race, and I think in those times that maybe I am not completely useless or worthless in this crazy world in which we all live. Protesting or standing up to the powers is commendable and something that I hope I can find the motivation and courage to do someday, but for now I try to remember that that we all at least have it in us somewhere to be a friend, to be kind, to have empathy, to see a fellow human being, and regardless of the color of their skin, see the soul underneath and love them, and in the end I think this is how we will find healing in this world. Many have dreamed of such a world, including people like Martin Luther King Jr who died seeking and fighting for that kind of world, who hoped that one day we would be free at last, free of the shackles of racism and tribalism and hate, and I don’t know for sure whether or not we will ever get there, but I hope that we will, and if that world comes someday I hope that on that day we will see another, not so much as black or white, or as man or woman, or as any other difference there may be between us, but most of all as fellow human beings, because that is, more than anything, who we are.

[kayincolwyn]

The Reality That Is Real (reflection, 6/10/2018)

When I was a boy I would often daydream, imagining myself as other people than the person I was or in other worlds than the world I was in. I would imagine myself as some kind of superhero, or imagine myself in some fantasy realm, far away from my comparatively mundane and sad existence on this Earth as a lonely and awkward boy who was ignored by girls and picked on by bullies and felt like he was different from others and didn't really belong here in this world.

Now in my mid 30s, I don't daydream quite so much, and some of my best friends are girls and I rarely have to deal with bullies, but I still at times dream of being someone else or somewhere else, and have moments now as a man when I feel just as lonely and awkward as I did when I was a boy. And of course, as with anyone, the stresses of life at times drive me to want to try to escape from them by turning to those things that I enjoy, like books, music, movies, and games, to all the hobbies and interests that help keep me sane in what can sometimes feel like an insane world, in a reality that can feel unreal, or at least at times can feel like a reality that you wish wasn't real, that you wish was instead one of those realities that you dream about...

The nature of our reality is of course an arguable thing, or at least something that people have argued about. Philosophers of every persuasion have been arguing about reality for millenia, the nature of it and our perception of it, reality as something objective that we all experience collectively and as something subjective that we all experience individually. Some have suggested that reality is just an illusion (whether a collective or individual one), as portrayed in films like the Matrix, a veil over our eyes that hides the true reality that lies underneath. Proponents of materialism and spirituality both have debated back and forth about the reality of the very obvious and visible world of matter in which we all live and move and exist (or at least seem to anyway), and the not so obvious and invisible world of spirit that people throughout the ages have claimed to have interacted with and been touched by in meaningful ways, and which they believe is that underlying reality that lies beyond the veil of this material world.

I wondered about some of these things growing up and I still do, have wondered why I am here, if there is any reason at all for being here, living this life on this planet we call Earth, other than mere random chance or the whims of entities beyond my understanding, and wondered what the real reality is, whether that of this planet on which I have breathed and walked and struggled and hoped for about 35 years now, or if there is some deeper layer of reality running beneath it or beyond it that certain experiences in my life seem to have pointed to, or if it is neither or both. And I have little doubt that I will continue to wonder about these things as long as I live (wondering if death will answer some of my questions or not), but as all of us must do I need to try to find something to hold onto while I drift in a sea of unanswered questions that is this life and this world.

And of course some of the things I hold onto are those things that I enjoy, like books and music and movies and games, all my hobbies and interests.

I think our creativity and our art can not only be a way of expressing ourselves and sharing the way we see the world or ourselves or whatever we see with others, but it can also be a way of trying to understand our reality, whether that be our shared reality or our individual reality, or it can be a way of forming or finding some kind of structure and meaning and purpose in our lives. Or it can simply be our attempt, whether conscious or subconscious, at creating another reality, or a pocket alternate reality if you will, of the heart and the mind, which we or others can choose to inhabit, and that may be more clear or makes more sense, at least to us, than this often chaotic and confusing and disappointing existence in which we live. Or maybe we just want to make something that we can enjoy and hope others can enjoy as well.

And our enjoyment of one another’s creativity and art in things like books and music and movies and games, or our immersion in those pocket alternate realities that we create for ourselves or one another, can be positive or negative from what I've found, depending on how we may approach those things and balance them with our day to day lives in this world that we all live in.

A good example of trying to find this balance can be seen in the popular book Ready Player One by author Ernest Cline and its recent film adaptation by director Steven Spielberg.

I had gotten the book awhile back, as it sounded right up my alley, being in very large part a nostalgic trip through the 80s, which was my childhood, but I hadn't yet gotten around to reading it, and I was interested in seeing the movie but wasn't sure whether I was going to see it in the theater until my friend Steve, who had already seen it and really loved it, insisted on taking me and a couple of other friends to see it. We all very much enjoyed it and had a great time with it, and after that I decided to read the book,

The book and the movie are very different from one another, but share the same basic premise and ideas and themes. For those who haven't read the book or seen the film adaptation, the basic story of Ready Player One is of a young man named Wade Watts who lives in a world in the not too distant future where things are just falling apart and decaying not because of some great cataclysm or apocalyptic scenario but simply because people have stopped caring enough, and most people throughout the world are poor and unemployed, but most people also find escape in this totally immersive virtual world known as the OASIS where people can live anonymously as avatars in fantasy worlds of their choosing. And the OASIS, much as the internet today, has become an integral part of human society, changing everything. Wade is an orphan who is staying with his aunt who sees him only as a burden and a nuisance, but he finds escape in the OASIS as his avatar Parzival, where he goes to school and and hangs out and sometimes adventures with his one and only friend Aech, whose real name and identity he doesn't even know. This virtual world was created by a reclusive and eccentric genius named James Halliday who was obsessed with pop culture, especially that of the 80s which he grew up in (much like myself), and upon his death he leaves a video in which he offers a challenge to every player in the OASIS to find three keys hidden within the OASIS that will help them find clues that will lead them to an Easter Egg, and whoever finds this egg first will be awarded the prize of all of Halliday's vast fortune as well as control of the OASIS. Wade is obsessed with finding this egg, as are many others in the OASIS, so he studies the life of James Halliday as much as possible searching for clues to find the keys that will lead him to the egg, and eventually he becomes the first player to find a key, after which a female avatar whom he is infatuated with named Art3mis finds the next one, and they along with Aech and two Asian brothers named Daito and Shoto become the leaders in the contest. They are challenged by an evil rival corporation to Halliday's called IOI that wants to find the egg themselves, and it soon becomes a David versus Goliath scenario where this group of players have to work together, even risking their own lives in the real world, to fight against seemingly insurmountable odds to find the egg first to save the OASIS from corporate tyranny.

I don't want to share all the details of the story so as not to spoil it for those who haven’t seen or read it (and the stories in the book and the movie are very different from one another so it would be difficult to lay both of them out anyway) but needless to say, as you would imagine, Wade/Parzival wins the day and finds the egg first, and when he meets the avatar of Halliday at the end, who mysteriously lives on somehow in the OASIS, Halliday shares some wisdom from the heart with Wade that is one of the central themes of the book, where he says this:

“I created the OASIS because I never felt at home in the real world. I didn't know how to connect with the people there. I was afraid, for all of my life, right up until I knew it was ending. That was when I realized, as terrifying and painful as reality can be, it's also the only place where you can find true happiness. Because reality is real.” I could very much relate to what Halliday said, growing up as an awkward loner and having a lot of difficulty connecting with others, and feeling fearful and unsure of myself much of the time. But in spite of that I have since come to the same conclusions as Halliday, or at least his conclusions as I interpreted them, though before I get to that I wanted to talk about fandom.

In Ready Player One, both the book and the movie, you see how fandom, as you might call it, can bring people together. The shared enjoyment of things like books, music, movies, and games, or of whatever hobbies and interests we may have, can help people to connect and relate to one another. People can become friends or even form communities around a shared hobby or interest, much as Parzival and Aech become friends in Ready Player One because of their shared hobbies and interests, especially their shared love of 80s culture (which is something I also love).

(Anneteresa ^^^) I think of one of my best friends (if not my best friend) in the world, Anneteresa, who I have yet to meet in person (although we have talked on the phone and video chatted a number of times) and who lives all the way on the other side of the world in Nairobi, Kenya.  I think of how we have connected over the things that we ‘geek out on’ together. In fact our friendship reminds me a bit of that between Parzival and Aech in Ready Player One (and there is a revelation about Aech in both book and film that also makes me think of Anneteresa). I think of how I have introduced her to some of my favorite music or movies that she had never heard or seen and that she now loves, or I think of how she coaxed me into trying out Doctor Who which I had never had much interest in checking out before but then quickly fell in love with and got my wife Kaylyn into as well, and now it is one of our favorite things, and we are now, as they are called, ‘Whovians’. I think of all the conversations we have had online about the different things that we enjoy, as well as the deeper conversations we have had about our lives, about our struggles and our hopes, which has grown out of that shared 'geekiness', and now we can not only share our enjoyment of those things that we love but can also encourage and support one another, which is needless to say something I am grateful for and a real blessing.

Of course, looking at the other side of this, it is possible to immerse ourselves in those things that we enjoy in unhealthy ways, preferring to live pretty much 24/7 in the pocket alternate realities that these things create for us rather than interact in meaningful ways with other people or with the world around us. The creation of the internet back in the 90s, which is in its way like the OASIS in Ready Player One, a whole digital dimension that contains all the pocket alternate realities that we create in some form or another, has made this option more of a possibility for those looking to escape the real world. There are those, like James Halliday, who live most of their lives trying to run or hide from the real world in those alternate realities because they aren't as frightening or difficult for them to navigate. And I can relate to this as I have spent much of my life immersed in books or music or movies or games or in the digital dimension of the internet or in whatever I could run to and hide myself in so I didn't really have to pay attention to this life and this world that I find myself in that has often been frightening and difficult for me...

But that's not to say that our enjoying these things or our immersing ourselves in them is always wrong, it's just about moderation and balance, about being able to find something in those things that can enrich us in this life and this world, something we can bring back with us.

For example, I am a pretty big fan of Star Wars (although maybe not so big a fan as some others to be sure). I've seen all of the movies (even those two 80s made for TV Ewok movies) and the cartoons (Clone Wars and Rebels) and have read a number of the books and comics and played a number of the games, have a poster and a calendar on my wall, as well as numerous t-shirts, a stuffed Chewbacca from Build-A-Bear, and even a Darth Vader key for my place and a Millenium Falcon keychain to go with it... so I guess you could say it's something I'm pretty into. But aside from the simple enjoyment I find in Star Wars, it has also enriched me in some ways, with the themes of internal conflict between light and dark, as well as the spirituality in the concept of the Force, resonating with me.

(Ahsoka Tano ^^^) One of my favorite (if not my favorite) characters in Star Wars is Ahsoka Tano, who was the Padawan, or apprentice, of Anakin Skywalker (who would become Darth Vader) through the Clone Wars animated series, and who eventually became disillusioned and walked away from the Jedi Order when they, in so many ways, let her down and betrayed her, which led her to walk away and try to find her own path at the end of the show. I related to her character very much as I had a somewhat similar experience with evangelical Christianity, which I also felt let down and betrayed by, and like Ahsoka I have since been trying to find my own path. And Ahsoka does eventually find her own path in the Rebels animated series, where she becomes an inspiring leader among the Rebels trying to fight against the Empire, even though she no longer sees herself as a Jedi. I guess you could say that, much like Ahsoka, I have a desire to follow the path of the light, although I no longer see myself as a Christian, or at least not in any traditional sense, and her story gives me a little hope that I too can somehow find my own path. And this is something I have found in something decidedly 'nerdy' like Star Wars, something that George Lucas, the creator of Star Wars, even said he basically made for 12 year olds (although that wasn’t meant as a slight but what he literally meant, he created it for young people who on the verge of adulthood and trying to find their way).

I also listen to this podcast called ForceCenter where three friends and cohosts, two guys and a lady (who are most definitely bigger fans than myself) talk about Star Wars and what it means to them, and they have talked about how one of the best things about Star Wars is the fan community. Lately they have been talking a lot about strife within the community, chiefly over the latest saga film The Last Jedi, which has divided many fans, which can be seen on Facebook and Youtube and all over the internet. I discussed The Last Jedi a bit in my last post that I wrote around Easter, so I won't discuss that here, but suffice it to say that I enjoyed it, and though I felt it had some flaws I thought it was overall a fun as well as thought provoking film, and so I can't fully understand all the rancor about it. There are even those who have gone so far as to bully and threaten the cast and crew of The Last Jedi online, especially the director Rian Johnson and Asian actress Kelly Marie Tran (who played Rose Tico in the film). I think this also shows the darker side of fandom, not just that people can be become so immersed in those worlds that they shut out others, but also that people can become so attached to them and invested in them that they just can't abide the thought of anyone doing something with those worlds that isn’t in line with how they feel about it, who just can't accept that others may have a different vision or understanding than they do.

That's not to say that there is no place for disliking or questioning or critiquing things that we don't agree with, including when they become part of those things  that we love, like our favorite books or music or movies or games for example, but I think we need to be able to step back and remember that, well, it's just not the end of the world. We can still enjoy those things as we imagine them even if others may imagine them differently, and can move on with our lives, or even if need be if we can just aren’t happy with it anymore we can still find other things to enjoy. Constructive and respectful criticism is one thing and is understandable and should even be encouraged so creators and artists are challenged to do better, but if we are driven to bully or attack or threaten those who have a different vision or understanding of something than we do then maybe we would do well to examine ourselves, or, to put it a funny way, as Obi Wan Kenobi told the guy dealing death sticks in Attack Of The Clones, 'go home and rethink your life'. Sorry for the tangent there, but as a fan I would like to see Star Wars bringing people together rather than dividing them.

(Anya Terestar ^^^) But even with all this division in the community I still enjoy Star Wars, and one of the ways that I enjoy it is by playing the online MMO (massive multiplayer online) Star Wars: The Old Republic (think World Of Warcraft but for Star Wars). I played it regularly for about a year straight a few years ago, and then got burned out on it a bit and took a break from it, but I have recently gotten back into it, and have been playing as a character I created in honor of my good friend Anneteresa. Her name is Anya Terestar (a name that Anneteresa helped come up with), and she's a black woman, who is a Jedi Shadow (think Jedi Ninja). I imagine it's a bit weird for a white dude like me to be playing as a black female character in a game, but I am doing it in part for Anneteresa, as I will sometimes share pictures or videos of Anya with her, which she enjoys. Unfortunately Anneteresa has difficulty accessing the game because of her internet limitations in Kenya, but she enjoys my sharing some of the highlights of Anya's adventures with her. You could say that Anya is like an avatar of Anneteresa (she even has a mostly yellow outfit that has an African vibe to it, as yellow is her favorite color, and she has a purple lightsaber, which is her second favorite color) but I am just playing as Anya on her behalf. And this is another way that Star Wars has been enriching to me, by helping me to bring one of my best friends a little more joy in her life, which brings me a little more joy, and that's what it should all be about I think, giving one another joy.

(A photo of our first D & D session last year) Another example of a pocket alternate reality that you can enjoy but can also enrich you and help you connect with others is Dungeons & Dragons, or D & D. I had known about D & D at least since back in high school when I saw one of the teachers running a game with some students in the lunch room, but I had never tried it out myself, but after seeing the boys playing it in the Netflix series Stranger Things (one of my favorite shows) a couple years ago I became more interested in it and found out that my friend Steve (the same Steve who took me to see Ready Player One) was wanting to form his own D & D group, and he invited me to join. My wife Kaylyn was interested in joining as well (and with her being a fan of fantasy and roleplaying it shouldn't have surprised me too much), and we kicked off our group about a year ago. Along with my friend Keith (who recently started his own D & D group which Kaylyn and I are also part of) and his son Trent, as well as a couple of Steve's friends, Josh and Riley, we get together every other weekend and just hang out at Steve’s shop, usually drinking Dutch Bros and eating pizza and other such junk food, all while we play D & D. For those who don't know much about D & D, it's a fantasy roleplaying game that was created back in the 70s and really hit big in the 80s, and is still going strong even after 40+ years. You create a character of a particular race and class (for example, I'm a male half elf bard in Steve's group and I'm a female human cleric in Keith's group) and then play with your group in this fantasy world, fighting monsters and searching for treasure and interacting with your fellow players and the environment as you go on quests together. You mostly just use your imaginations as you control your characters and then the DM (or Dungeonmaster) controls the environment and monsters and NPCS (non playable characters) that you interact with. You can use maps and figurines to help visualize things if you wish but aside from that all that is needed really is your imagination, and of course the dice that you roll (most famously the D20, which is a staple symbol of nerd culture) to decide (or that will help the DM decide rather) what will happen whenever you take actions.

Oddly there was a time when some religious folks demonized D & D, believing it was satanic, and they made all kinds of ridiculous accusations about it and those who played it, much as some religious folks have demonized Harry Potter. Of course such accusations are way off base, as D & D is no more dangerous than Harry Potter, and in fact it has been something that has helped me to connect a bit more with my wife and has helped me to get out and socialize more and spend more time with friends, which is something that an introvert like me sorely needs. Playing D & D over the last year has helped me to expand my circle of friends and has challenged me to use my imagination a little more, and it has just been something fun that I have been able to share with my wife Kaylyn and with friends, and it has really been an example to me of how a pocket alternate reality that we create and share together can help us to connect and need not be so much be a way of escaping our reality as bringing us together in our reality.

My wife enjoys watching this Youtube video series of a D & D group that films themselves playing called High Rollers, which I have watched with her sometimes, and I remember on this one episode at one point during the game one of the guys in the group was asked what mattered most to him, and he said something like 'the people here with me' and one of the ladies in the group reached over and touched the arm of the guy next to her because clearly what was said meant something to her. I think the message for me was these people don't play D & D just because it's fun but because it's a way they can connect with other people, with friends, and I could say the same of D & D, and when I saw that in Stranger Things I was drawn to it and I'm glad that I was because that's what I've found.

And this goes back to what James Halliday said to Wade in Ready Player One, how you can only find true happiness here in this world because reality is real. I think what he meant by that isn't that there is no value in these things, in these pocket alternate realities that we enjoy, but that if they don't have anything to offer that we can bring back with us into this world, this reality, then they don't have any real lasting value to us at the end of the day. If they only serve as a temporary escape from reality and can't really enrich us in any way, in our lives or in our world, within ourselves or in our relationships, then they don't really matter, because ultimately this life and this world is really what matters in the end. At the end of Ready Player One, Wade and his group of friends, when they have gained control of the OASIS, find a balance by having the OASIS shut down at least two days out of each week to encourage people throughout the world to not depend too much on it and to interact with one another face to face more and to remember that this life and this world is the one that matters the most, as frightening and difficult as it may be at times.

And there's no question that this life and this world can be frightening and difficult at times.

I've talked a bit about those pocket alternate realities that we create and share that can, if we approach them in a healthy and balanced way, can help us in this reality we live in, things like the OASIS or Star Wars or D & D, but I also want to talk a bit about this reality we live in and how we live in it.

Recently I read John Green's (author of Fault In Our Stars) new book Turtles All The Way Down, which resonated with me. The book follows a 16 year old girl named Aza who struggles with an anxiety and OCD disorder where she has these thought spirals, where she can't stop thinking about certain things or going down certain mental rabbit holes, and this condition can be very debilitating and distressing. John Green himself wrestles with and this book was his attempt at sharing about his own personal struggles in a creative way. The main story is kind of interesting, with a mystery involving the disappearance of an eccentric billionaire who has left his two sons, including a teenage boy named Davis that Aza becomes involved with, and how Aza, initially with some help from her best friend Daisy (who is a pretty huge Star Wars fan that writes Star Wars fanfics, which I also appreciated) are trying to help solve the mystery of their missing father. But what really spoke to me in the story was how Green described Aza's struggles, her perceptions of reality and her loneliness, her longing and aching to be loved and understood, which I could very much relate to. While I don't have the same disorder that Green or Aza have, I have had some similar struggles at times, and have felt that same loneliness and desire to be loved and understood. At one point Green writes “Anybody can look at you. It's quite rare to find someone who sees the same world you see.” I think that this is where much of our loneliness can come from, the feeling that there is no one who sees reality as we see it, or experiences it as we do. We can feel so alone and unsure of our place in the world because we feel like we're the only one who knows what it's like to be us. Aza feels that maybe Davis is that rare person who can see the world she sees, and I think if we are lucky we may run across one or two people (or maybe more if we’re really lucky) in our lives that seem to see the same world we see, or at least come close to it.

Later on in the book Green writes, when speaking of first loves, that 'love is how you become a person and why'. As a boy who was often daydreaming and felt very disconnected from others and the world around him, I didn't know much or understand much about love to be honest, it was in many ways a mystery to me, and it still is, as I know I have said elsewhere in my writings because that is something I have wrestled with over the years, but I have come to believe, even if I may not fully understand it, that love is central to what it means to be human and to be here in this world, this reality. I believe love gives us an identity and gives our life a meaning. You are someone's son or daughter, brother or sister, husband or wife, father or mother, someone's family or friend... you are in large part who you are because of your connections and the people who love you. And even if we are in the sad position of not being loved by those who traditionally should love us, like our parents or siblings or spouses or children, still we can’t escape our need for love, wherever we can find it.  Of course we should all try to learn to love ourselves, accept ourselves, but for most of us we are only able to learn that, or begin to learn that, when others, or at least one person, loves and accepts us. You could say, in so many words, that love is what makes us real, or is what creates our reality, or at least creates a reality that has any real meaning for us.

I’m reminded of this moving scene in the film Super 8 where the main character in the film, Joe, tells his friend Alice about his late mother, saying that ‘she used to look at me in this way, like really look, and I just knew I was there, that I existed.’ When we feel alone and unloved and misunderstood our reality can basically feel like a living hell, we can feel like we don’t exist, or like we shouldn’t. I have been in that place numerous times in my life, and there are many others who I know that have been there as well, and maybe all of us have been there, as I think that's may just be part of being human, that we at times will find ourselves in those dark places in our lives.

Recently another celebrity, Anthony Bourdain, took his life. Honestly I had never heard of him before, or don’t think I have, probably because I'm not someone who watches food or travel shows really, but seeing all the posts about him by friends on Facebook it’s clear that he was someone who was loved by a lot of people, and of course it's sad whenever someone takes their life, whether they are a celebrity or not. I'm reminded of Robin Williams, who was one of my favorite actors, and when he took his life, which hit a lot of people pretty hard. When someone puts off an aura of positivity and seem to make it their mission in life to encourage and inspire others, as Williams did and from what I understand Bourdain did as well, it can be hard to understand why they would want to take their lives, but I don't believe having an aura of positivity and a desire to help others means that a person isn't in pain, in fact it may only mean that they are better at hiding that pain. I have little doubt that Boardain was someone who had felt alone and unloved and misunderstood at times, as we all do, although the reasons for why someone takes their life is different from person to person. I know there were times in my life when I felt the pull to take my life, times when I was in some very dark places, when my reality, or rather when my perception of reality, was very dark, when I felt like I was in hell.

In Turtles All The Way Down, because of Aza's disorder her perception of reality would get blurred or skewed, and she would come to believe things that were untrue about herself or about others or what they thought of her, and I think its often our blurred or skewed perception of reality that can lead us into those very dark places, where we treat ourselves or others in ways we shouldn’t, which is something I know from experience... In the book Green also writes things like ‘Your now is not your forever’ and  'There is hope, even when your brain tells you that there isn't', which I believe are true things that we should try to hold onto, but they are not always easy to hold onto when your now feels like forever or when your brain keeps telling you that hope doesn’t exist, that there is no or can be no other reality than the hell you find yourself in. Recently I wrote a poem when I was on the bus heading home from work and feeling like I was in something of a dark place mentally and emotionally, and was trying to express what I was feeling while wanting to have some hope: It's midnight, and the world seems quiet for this world of one, One who craves for an embrace, and the holding of hands, But also runs away, in (or was it through?) the dark, Stark raving mad we are, or is it me, only me, And the key I haven't found for this door I'm searching for, That opens in a dream but not here, not now, Not under this gray sky or above this troubled ground I turn around, Looking back on those moments, and the wonder I felt When I caught a glimpse of it from the corner of my eye but couldn't see it When I brushed it ever so lightly with my hand but couldn't hold it When I thought I could carry everything in my soul and that I understood and was understood, by a light that carried me... And now I turn back and look ahead, Now a spark like a boat drifting in the sea of myself, Above the waves there is a calm and beneath them a storm, Cries from the depths without tears, and without words, As I stumble through each day trying to ignore them bury them pretend they're not there distract myself entertain myself comfort myself While hiding behind this wall of numb there is anger fear pain There are questions waiting for answers... And I ask the night to take my hand and hold me I ask for the world to stand still I ask for the key and the door for a sky full of stars and for solid ground to see, to hold the light... But at midnight I am a spark Drifting through the sea Of the dark Right here in the quiet storm Of my heart

I guess it’s up to whoever reads that poem to interpret it however they wish to, and really I’m not sure of all that I meant by it, as some of what I was feeling was difficult to put into words, but I believe that love is a light, a light that can carry us through the dark, that can fan the sparks within us, can help us to see things more clearly, help us to look to the possibilities that can become our realities, and can help us to see the world, the world inside of us or around us, through eyes of hope... but only if we can let it in.  Because the mental and emotional disorders that many people struggle with can be such ugly beasts, there are those who may come to a place where no matter how much love is coming their way from others, because they just don’t know how to receive it, it just isn't enough to keep them from sinking into an abyss or from taking their lives, but even if this is sadly true that doesn't mean that love has no power at all or that there is no point at all in trying to love others, even if it may not always be able to save someone in this life or this world (though that doesn't, at least in my mind, leave out the possibility that it may be able to save them in some other life or world that may be beyond the veil of this one, which is something that gives me hope). I think love still matters and still has power even if this life and this world doesn’t always have happy endings.

Last night I watched the series finale for Sense8, a show that I loved and enjoyed and was sad to see cancelled after only two seasons. The show focused on a group of 8 people who were members of a hidden subset of human beings called sensates who are all connected mentally and emotionally to the extent that they are in essence all the same person, sharing one another’s experiences and feelings and abilities with one another. The show delves a lot into LGBTQ issues specifically but more generally delves into themes of kindness and empathy, which resonated with me. I don't want to spoil anything for those who also love the show that haven't seen the finale yet, but I wanted to touch on a part of the finale, where the characters Amanita, a black lesbian woman, and Naomi, a white transgender woman, have their wedding, which takes place on the Eiffel Tower in Paris. The woman that is officiating the wedding says something about how even though there are forces that seek to divide us they are not as powerful as love which can unite us. After this Amanita and Naomi exchange their vows. Amanita talks about how it can be difficult to trust our feelings in a world that often tells us not to trust our feelings, a world that may tell us that our feelings are childish and should be ignored, and yet she can sense that our feelings really do matter, maybe even more than reason sometimes, and she believes how she feels about Naomi matters, and she trusts that feeling more than anything in her life. Naomi talks about how nothing in life is permanent and things are always changing, and people are always changing, but she wants to be there to watch Amanita change, to evolve and grow, as she evolves and grows too, as they evolve and grow together, and for as long as they live, because every moment together matters even as they change with the world that changes around them, and she tells her that in her arms is the only place she has ever felt at home. Of course this is idealistic, much as the vows that my wife Kaylyn and I made to eachother on our wedding day were idealistic, and of course being the flawed and fallible human beings that we are we may not be able to live up to them as much as we would like to, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t or shouldn’t try to, because I believe love is worth trying... Anyways, we live in a world where people have disagreements, even vast and volatile disagreements, about reality and how we should live in that reality, including how we should and shouldn’t relate to one another or whom we should and shouldn’t love.  Sense8 challenges traditions and societal norms about love, which of course is wrapped up in human sexuality and gender identity which are among the most contentious issues that human beings wrestle with and debate about because they are so intimate in nature, and the show promotes radical empathy, and suggests that if there is real love between human beings, that is built on respect and trust, it should be encouraged and celebrated, and regardless of its form or what it looks like. Of course we can all agree that there should be boundaries, that there should always be consent in any physical relationship, and of course respect and trust more generally in any kind of relationship, but aside from these healthy boundaries that we should all have love challenges us to break down all other boundaries that we may have, like race, gender, orientation, nationality, class, religion, politics, or whatever differences there may be that may divide us, challenges us to set aside those differences and come together in unity. Some of us may come together by sharing those things that we enjoy, like creativity or art or those alternate worlds that we create and immerse ourselves in together, like the OASIS in Ready Player One or the internet which we exist in in some sense right now, like sharing Star Wars with my dear friend Anneteresa or sharing D & D with Kaylyn and my friends, or some of us may come together because of struggles or pain that we have experienced together that make us kindred spirits, or because of joys or pleasure that we have experienced that bind us together. The truth is, or at least my perception of the truth is, the boy that dreamed of being someone else and somewhere else is still inside of me, because this life and this world can still sometimes seem insane, unreal, or like it shouldn’t be real and like those alternate realities we create for ourselves or for one another are better than this reality, like the dream is better than the reality. And I still don’t know for sure what this reality is, if this is all there is or just some illusion or if there is something more that lies beyond it. Maybe there isn’t, or maybe there is, I don’t know, though I hope I will somewhere down the road. This life and this world can be so chaotic, confusing, and disappointing at times, and we can so feel alone, unloved, or misunderstood, like we’re in a living hell, like our now is forever and like there is no hope, and so it’s understandable that we would want to escape from that, escape into worlds of our own making that may be more clear or make more sense to us in the moment, but even if they may have the potential to enrich us or help us connect with others, help us to understand our own lives or our world better or help us to break the ice with others by sharing something we can enjoy together, still they simply can’t give us everything that we are looking for, that we are longing and aching for, because what we are looking for and longing and aching for can only be found in this life and this world, in this reality, as hard as it may be to find... It’s only in this reality that we can find those who see something of what we see so we don’t feel so alone, who can share in our laughter or our tears, who can share in our struggles or our joys, where we can find those who can look at us in such a way that we know that we’re here and that we exist, and like there’s some reason for existing here on this Earth, even if that reason may be more of a feeling than anything else, a feeling that we can’t help but trust more than anything else, where we can find connections to hold onto even as we change and the world changes around us, where we can find love, that mysterious thing, that mysterious force, that I have struggled to understand since I was a boy, wrestling with the light and the darkness within me and in the world, and that all of us have struggled with giving and even with receiving but can’t help but need nonetheless, and even if it may only feel like a spark it is a light that can be found in our dark places, and it is that true happiness that we can find here, here in this sometimes terrifying and painful world, because, at least in this life and this world, it’s, as far as I know, the only reality that is real, and in some mysterious way, we can be that light to one another, that reality to one another, that makes us real.

[kayincolwyn]

A Spark Of Hope (Good Friday reflection, 3/30/2018)

Today was Good Friday, a day when many people throughout the world remember the story of Jesus' death by crucifixion, which has been told countless times and in countless ways for some two thousand years now. During that time there has also been constant debate back and forth among people on every side and every perspective about the meaning in that death, if there was any at all, and even about whether or not it really happened at all. And of course the story continues, claiming that on the Sunday after his death on that Friday he somehow resurrected, beat death and came back, and the meaning of that, and of course whether it really happened at all, has been debated back and forth as well.

I've been on both sides of the Christian faith, both mocking it and embracing it, thinking it was a joke and thinking it was the path to salvation. And now? Well, now I am not really sure where I stand on it, not really sure what to believe...

But even though I'm not sure, one thing I've learned from my journey of faith (or lack thereof) is that human beings need hope, they need something to hold onto that helps them to keep living (or wanting to), something that gives their existence some sense of meaning and purpose, that makes all their struggles and sacrifices somehow worth it in the end, that helps them to believe that even with all their mistakes and failures there is still a way forward, that their life matters and that they're not alone in it, and maybe they don't have to understand what that hope is exactly, but they just need to know that it's there.

I think that, to some extent, this is what people see in Jesus and the story of his death and resurrection, a kind of meaning and purpose, a way forward, an understanding that they matter and that they're not alone, and this is also what people see in other faiths or philosophies or ways of looking at the world, which gives them, at least in their own mind and heart, a meaning and a purpose and a way forward and comfort.

But of course it's not as simple as that for so many of us. Faith is often met with doubt, and certainty with questions. Our idealism can be so easily turned to cynicism, our expectation to disappointment, our joy to grief. It can be so easy to believe strongly in something, and to think that that something will make everything okay, and then soon we find that belief tested, or even shattered, by the reality we live in, by everything that doesn't fit or make sense, whether in our world, our lives, or even in ourselves.

Because of this I think many of us don't so much have hope, powerful and bright like a raging fire, as a spark of hope, fragile and dim like a tiny ember, to hold onto, or at least that's how it can feel at times. Or at least that is how it has felt for me at times, though I'm sure I'm not the only one.

But a spark of hope is better than no hope at all, and maybe it can grow into something more...

In The Last Jedi, which I just was watching on DVD tonight with my wife Kaylyn, a spark of hope is one of those themes running through it. In the film Luke Skywalker, who in the original Star Wars trilogy was an idealistic young man, brash but optimistic, is now a broken old man, a man weighed down by his failures and who has lost his faith, both in the path that he had been following and in himself. He believed strongly in something but that belief was tested and shattered. He is ashamed of himself and disillusioned so he has cut himself off from everyone, including those who need him most, who need the legend that he has become in the minds of many but does not feel himself to be. But he comes to learn that failure can be a great teacher, because it can humble us and challenge us to see or do things differently than we saw or did them before, and we may not need to abandon faith altogether but can find a new faith that can arise from our failures and our losses like a phoenix from the ashes. In the end Luke sacrifices himself to save and inspire others, he becomes a spark of hope that promises to light a fire that will spread across the galaxy, symbolized in the last scene of the film by a boy gazing up at the stars with hope in his heart, while holding his broom like a lightsaber.

While I'm not an old man (at least not yet), I can relate to Luke Skywalker as he is in The Last Jedi. I too feel as though I've failed in a lot of ways, and like I have lost much of the faith I once had, both in the pathes I have tried to follow and in myself, and I too have felt ashamed of myself and disillusioned at times, even to the point where I have been tempted to cut myself off from everyone. But I have learned from some of my failures, and have not given up on having faith altogether, or on finding faith that is like a phoenix rising from the ashes, and while I don't know if I will ever be asked to sacrifice myself to save others or if I will ever be a legend that inspires others, I do believe that I, and that any of us, can be like a spark of hope to others, as others have been to us. Even with all our flaws and our weaknesses as human beings we can still do good, we can be kind, we can have empathy, and we can encourage others and make a difference in their lives, which can then inspire them to do the same, which can then turn those sparks into a fire that can spread around the world...

Recently I watched another film, the animated film adaptation of The Little Prince. The film follows a young girl with a loving but controlling mother who befriends a strange but kindhearted old man who gradually tells her the story of The Little Prince, a story that captivates her and speaks to her heart. But eventually when the old man reveals at the end of the story that the Little Prince is bitten by a snake, which apparently kills him, she is heartbroken and disappointed because that story was giving her hope in the midst of a life that felt hopeless, and that ending seemed to take that hope away from her, so she walks away and cuts the old man out of her life. But when she learns that the old man is dying, she decides to set aside her disappointment and take a leap of faith and search for the Little Prince in the story in order to try and help the old man. She leaves in the old man's plane that he has been working on, and by some kind of magic travels to one of the worlds that he spoke about in his story, where a greedy businessman controls the world, and wants to control the universe, and she finds the Little Prince all grown up, a chimney sweep who has forgotten who he is. They soon confront the businessman and when all seems lost the Little Prince finally remembers who he is and he stands up to the businessman, and they are able to stop him and restore the world and save the universe. They return to his world and find that the beautiful rose that he loved in the story has died, but they find she lives on somehow in spirit, and the Little Prince is then restored to his child self, and the young girl returns to her world, reconciling with her friend, the old man, before his death, as well as with her mother, who now understands and supports her in following her own path, and the old man is somehow reunited with the Little Prince in spirit.

I thought it was a beautiful and heartfelt film that had a lot to say about hope. I could relate to the young girl and the Little Prince as well, being trapped in worlds that sometimes felt empty of meaning or purpose or a way forward or any sense that their lives really mattered or that they weren't alone. Like the young girl in the film I sometimes feel as though I have expectations of me that I can't live up to, and like the Little Prince I sometimes feel like I don't know who I am. The young girl realized that she didn't need to live up to expectations that others had and could find her own path, and the Little Prince remembered who he was and took a stand, but neither of them really got what they wanted, or at least thought they wanted, and both of them had to face loss... And yet they also found a spark of hope, that what they lost was in some way still a part of them, enriching them and changing them, and was not truly lost, even if it appeared to be so.

In the last year I have faced some losses myself, and I know many of us have, and those losses can at times make us feel empty of meaning or purpose, and wondering whether there was a way forward, or whether life matters or we're alone.

A few months ago I was listening to a podcast of an interview with authors Theresa Cheung and Claire Broad, who were promoting their book Answers From Heaven: Incredible True Stories of Heavenly Encounters and the Afterlife. I resonated with a lot of what they said in the interview, especially with Claire, who is a medium, someone who claims to communicate with spirits on the other side. I reached out to Claire on Facebook and connected with her, and read her book as well (which was thought provoking and encouraging, and I recommend it) and I also made an appointment for a reading with her later this year for both myself and Kaylyn.

I know there is a lot of skepticism about mediums, which is understandable, but Claire strikes me as being a very genuine and honest person who simply has a desire to help people, and she even has some skepticism herself, not really understanding her own abilities and not knowing exactly what to make of them and just kind of going with it even if she doesn't have all the answers. Now I don't know what, if anything, will happen when my wife and I have a reading with her later this year, but because of the kind of person she is, or at least is to me, I'm willing to give it a shot and see what happens.

I know people who have had experiences with loved ones that have passed on, experiences that they can't really explain and that seem to say that maybe they're not really gone, and that they live on somehow, even if it's in a way that we may not yet understand. And while I can't say for sure whether or not I've had any experiences like that myself, I do believe that there are people who have them, and that it is possible, and I try to stay open to those experiences, whether they may come through someone like Claire or in some other way.

And these experiences can be like sparks of hope that can be an answer to our loss, or can at least partly fill that emptiness that is left behind when we lose something, or lose someone, so we can find some meaning and purpose again, some way forward, some comfort, even through the dark, and even beyond death.

Again while I can't say for sure if I have had any of those kinds of experiences where I feel as though loved ones have reached out to me from the other side, I can say that I have had experiences that have be like a spark of hope for me.

Recently, maybe a month or two ago, I was walking home at night, and was wrestling with a lot of things and was expressing my frustration and confusion to God or to whatever forces there may be behind everything, railing in my mind about things that hadn't really changed in my life or in myself that I have prayed about time and time again, but then as I was nearing home this voice in my mind firmly said "listen" and I quieted inside and then the song that started playing on my MP3 player on my phone that I was listening to as I was walking was this song called Passenger Seat (by Death Cab For Cutie) and some of the lyrics jumped out at me, and the thought came into my mind that God feels what I feel and shares in my journey through life, understanding all of my frustration and confusion, and then the chorus of the song spoke to me as though it was God speaking to me:

"When you feel embarrassed I'll be your pride When you need direction I'll be your guide For all time”

And this spoke to me because during that walk I was feeling embarrassed about my life, like I was a failure, and was feeling like I didn't really know where I was going, like I was lost.

And just as I was about to walk up to the door of my apartment, there was another voice in my mind that gently said, along with this image in my mind of myself as a young boy curled up on the floor, being embraced tenderly by a man, though I couldn't see his face:

"I love you more than you can possibly imagine, and I am with you always."

With faith comes doubt, with certainty comes questions, and the power of these kinds of experiences can fade with time. I've had a number of experiences like these in my life, and I sometimes doubt them and question them and often forget about them, but on some level they still remain a part of my story, and are still like sparks of hope in my heart.

Was that experience real, or just something I made up subconciously to comfort myself? Was that figure of a man that was in my mind, holding my child self, comforting me and letting me know I was loved and not alone, was that Jesus, or something else, or just some self-delusion? I honestly don't know for sure, but I guess you could say that I hope it was real, and true, and that it meant something and still means something.

I don't know for sure whether or not the story of Jesus, and of his death and resurrection, is based on any kind of historical reality, I don't know for sure whether or not it is any more real than Star Wars or The Little Prince. But like Star Wars or The Little Prince whether real or not I have found meaning in that story, as many others have, even if I may no longer identify with the religion built around it.

I find meaning in the idea that God, or whatever force may be behind our existence, suffers with us, and that, as I was thinking that one night, God can feel what we feel and shares in our journey, rather than just being distant and aloof from us, sitting on a golden throne somewhere and not knowing what it is like to be in our shoes. I find a spark of hope in the story of Good Friday because of this, because that's what I see in that story, but also because the story continues on to say that death isn't the end, that we need not fear death, that we can rise like phoenixes out of the ashes of it, and can live on in some way we can't even imagine.

I have a lot of issues with Christianity as a religion, especially certain variants or forms of it that I strongly disagree with, which is why I have distanced myself from it, but I still find meaning in the central story at its heart of a man who may have been our Creator become a man, who shared in our pain by living a human life and was even willing to let us kill him just to prove the depth of his love for us, and also to show us that we need not fear death. Honestly there is much that I find ugly in Christianity, but I still think there is something beautiful in that story. If Christianity is a pile of mud then that story is a gem (or a star or a rose) buried in the mud that you can find when you dig deep enough.

But again I am not sure of any of this, as I have doubts and questions like so many of us do, and I know this is only how I see it and I am one voice among countless voices, one interpretation among countless interpretations, through the ages, but my voice and my interpretation is mine and I know I have a right to it just as much as anyone else does.

And at the end of the day, whether or not that story is true in any historical sense I think it regardless speaks to something inside of us all that is true, which is our desire for hope, and I think we can find a spark of hope in that story that is still being told, just as I found sparks of hope in stories like The Last Jedi and The Little Prince, and I don't know whether or not that experience that I had that one night walking home was real but I know I want to believe that it was and that it really meant something, just as I am sure others, like those who believe their loved ones have reached out to them from the other side, or people like Claire who believe they can connect with the other side, have had experiences that they want to believe were real and really meant something.

In a book I read recently, Destiny Of Souls by Michael Newton, a woman was describing her experience of the spirit world and when she tried to describe God she said God was 'like a mother singing over her child'. That spoke to me, and was like a spark of hope to me. I don't know whether it was true but I'd like to believe it was, and is. I'd like to believe that whatever it is that created and put me, and all of us, here on Earth embraces me and sings over me, and all of us...

Many of us may feel as though it will always be Friday, and not a Good Friday at that, and Sunday is nowhere in sight, crucified by our failures or our losses, by the weight of our shame or our disappointment, by the sense that our lives are empty of meaning or purpose, like there is no way forward and we don't matter and we're alone, that we'll never meet expectations, that we'll never find out or remember who we are, that we'll always feel embarrassed about our lives and lost in the dark...

But we still have those sparks of hope in our lives, whether we find them in stories or in experiences, that tell us, that promise us, that somehow we can rise, we can be filled, we can keep going, we are loved and not alone, we can find our way, and that Sunday will come. Do I know for sure that it will come? No I don't, because with faith comes doubt, and with certainty questions. But I do have a spark of hope that it will.

[kayincolwyn]

In Memory Of  Daniel “Danny” Lukich (February 18, 1952 - February 18, 2018)

When I first met Danny about eight or nine years ago at the Ledding Library here in Milwaukie (which we cleaned together almost every Friday night for a number of years after that), I wasn't quite sure what to make of him. With his sometimes difficult to understand speech and shuffling gait, on first impression I wasn't sure how I was going to get along with this strange old man.

But overtime I realized that under the surface, behind those things that those who didn't look any deeper may have judged him for, there was a wise, funny, and kindhearted soul who in spite of all of his struggles in life touched the lives of those who knew him and loved him in his own unique way, and it wasn't long before he won me over.

I soon began a tradition of bringing Danny treats, such as cookies and cupcakes, every Friday that we worked together, which he always appreciated, and I would also bring him birthday and Christmas gifts, and he would bring me gifts as well. While working we would chat about everything from work and family drama to movies and music, from religion and politics to Star Wars and Barbara Streisand. Danny may have had his opinions and his likes and dislikes for sure, but even if we didn't always agree on everything there was a shared mutual respect and affection that we had for eachother, and while I could say that we were co-workers I can also say that we were friends, friends who confided in and encouraged one eachother and enjoyed eachother's company.

I remember he would sometimes playfully tease me about my hair cut or nerdy shirts that I wore (like Star Wars for example), and how he would sometimes pull pranks on me, and how he would call me up on holidays or just leave me random messages that made me smile or laugh and I would think 'that's Danny'. He was a character for sure, with a great sense of humor, which I have little doubt will be one of the things that he is remembered for. While Danny wrestled with a lot of things in his life, and had times when he was angry or disappointed or sad, I believe at heart he was someone who liked most to have fun and to laugh.

I remember Danny telling me about how when he was born because of complications the doctors said that he wouldn't make it that long, and yet even after 60+ years he was still kicking around. I think he took pride in that, that in some sense his life was a miracle, and that he had gone beyond expectations and had beaten the odds. I remember he would half-joke with me at times about dying, as though there was part of him that expected his time was coming soon, and the way he talked about it I don't think he had much fear of death, so while I am sad about his passing, as all those who knew and loved him are I know, I don't believe that he is sad about it, and I believe that wherever Danny is now, whether in spirit watching over us, with a smile and a twinkle in his eye, or in some wonderful realm that is beyond our imagining, I think he is having a good time.

I am thankful for the chance to know Danny for the time that I did, it was a gift and a blessing. I will miss you old man. Thank you for your friendship, and I hope to see you again, somehow, someday, somewhere.

[kayincolwyn]

Candles In The Dark (Christmas Eve reflection, 12-24-2017)

It’s Christmas Eve, and I’m sitting here at my laptop as the snow falls outside (which is a fairly rare occurrence here where I live in Oregon, although more likely than not it won’t last for long) and thinking about what to write here. Normally I reflect on movies or shows or books or songs, but thought I would save that for my next post (maybe one for New Years), but for now I just wanted to write about whatever is on my mind. I guess what is on my mind at the moment is how it’s been a rough year for many of us, and not just here in America but all over the world, and many of us may not be feeling particularly festive because of that. Whether it’s wider social and political issues that are talked about and debated about in the mainstream media or here online, or whether it’s the more personal issues that we must face in our own lives or see our family and friends facing, whether it’s some terrible tragedy we hear about on TV or read about online, or whether it’s having to wrestle with our own loneliness or grief, the festive nature of this time of year just brings to bear how difficult or painful life can be for us, as if the childlike sense of wonder and joy and magic that Christmas should ideally be all about only succeeds in reminding us of the opposite of all of those things, of all the confusion, sadness, and disappointment in our lives and in the world. What with Christmas seeming to be in large part commercialized and often used as a way of just selling more products by businesses, and having Christmas seemingly foisted upon us whether we want it or not with movies on TV and music on the radio and everything else, it can seem like so much illusion to try to distract us or make us only briefly forget about what’s really going on in the world and in our lives, which is the dark underbelly of everything beneath the happy veneer of the holidays, a happy veneer that is mainly for little children that aren’t yet old enough to understand how hard life really is or can be, and a world full of turmoil and anxiety and injustice and lives filled with struggle and heartache and pain.

When I was a boy, Christmas was magic, and by far my favorite time of year, watching as my mom creatively and lovingly decorated the tree and my dad made up colorful bows with wrapping paper that he would hang on the walls inside and then the lights outside of the old house that I grew up in, and of course looking forward to all the presents that I would receive. Now I’m 35, and it’s been about 15 years since my parents split up, and I no longer live in that house but now live in an apartment, and while my mom who lives with my wife and I still creatively and lovingly decorates a tree every year, my dad lives elsewhere with his new wife and family and I don’t see him much, maybe once or twice a year, and there are no more colorful bows on the walls and we hang up lights on the inside of our apartment instead of outside, and while I still receive gifts from family and friends while I still appreciate it and am grateful it’s not something I look forward to as I used to, and I long ago stopped believing in Santa and his reindeer and his elves who are supposedly living up at the North Pole, and I am no longer a child but rather an adult (or at least trying to be one anyway) who looks back on his childhood both with some nostalgia and some sorrow as well, because things change, and along with that change some of the magic that I knew back then (although my childhood wasn’t all magic, that’s for sure) has lock its luster or has disappeared altogether. It’s easy to become cynical as we get older, to become cynical in the face of what is going on all around us or what is going on in our own lives, easy to believe that everything that comes along and appears to offer us any kind of light or hope to hold onto is only an illusion or a deception or a lie that we would be foolish to entertain, let alone embrace, and that to be mature adults we must simply face the fact that life sucks and you just have to deal with that fact as best you can. And I get that, and there have been times throughout my own life, including during the holidays, when I have wondered what the point of all of it is, or why we should bother celebrating anything, including Christmas, when life can be so, well, shitty, to put it bluntly, and for so many of us.

Like I lost both my grandpa Allan and a close family friend, Bryan, to cancer this year (in March and August respectively), as well as my dog Shasta (also in March, though we hadn’t had her for the last few years since we moved, having had to find her a new home, but we kept up on how she was doing), and I have had struggles and continue to have struggles in my relationships and with work and most of us all within myself, as I am still trying to figure myself out and understand what my place in the world is, and while I have much to be thankful for and my life is easier or better in some ways than it has been in the past, that doesn’t mean it’s easy or that everything is the way I wish it to be. And I know that others have lost far more than I have, and have struggled or continue to struggle far more than me... I mean I have family and friends who have gone through so much this year, their lives seemingly turned inside out and shaken to the core, and even with everything I have gone through or am wrestling with I know I should count myself lucky. But even with all of this in mind, I just can’t bring myself to be entirely cynical, or to give up on being able to experience wonder or joy or magic in my life even though I’m no longer a child. Maybe this is simply me being stubborn, refusing to accept reality, refusing to accept that I’ve lost my childlike innocence and will never get it back, refusing to accept that there isn’t more to life than just disappointment and loss, but I can’t help it I guess, can’t help but believe, or at least hope, that there is still some magic left in this world or left for me or even for all of us. For example, I’ve been hoping since my grandpa passed away that I would hear from him in some way, as I know some people hear from their loved ones, or at least believe they do, whether in dreams or visions or some other sign from them to let us know that they’re still with us somehow, but as far as I know, after about nine months, there hasn’t been any sign, which is discouraging for me to be sure... but then last Saturday my aunt Angie, Allan’s youngest daughter, came over to visit with us, and as I stood in the doorway of my mom’s room just watching her chatting with my mom (her half sister) while my sister sat nearby just hanging out I got this feeling that Allan would be happy to see that.  Not that I felt his presence in any palpable way, it was just a feeling, but maybe that’s something. And then while my mom and my sister as well as Bryan’s wife Kelly have been having dreams of Bryan as well as other experiences, I haven’t got anything really, or at least not anything that I could call a sign with any confidence, but just spending time with Kelly and my friend Kyle (Bryan’s youngest son) when they spent the night and did gift exchange with us on Friday, I got that sense too, like with Allan, that Bryan would be happy to see that. And maybe that’s something too. And though I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Shasta I know she died peacefully in her sleep of old age, being loved and cherished by a number of humans throughout her life and having overall lived a good life... and I know that Allan and Bryan were loved and cherished too, and they live on in our memories (and maybe in some other dimension too), I think this is all something too.  I think of the kindness of people in my life, family and friends and even strangers, an encouraging word or a warm hug, I think of good stories and art and music and just basic things like food and clothing and shelter and my health, which not everyone in the world has like I do, and I think of the beauty of nature, walking with my wife from her work earlier this evening in the falling snow, and I think of the many moments and memories in my life that meant so much, and even if they came and went they are still a part of me, and I think of all my hopes and dreams for the future, which may not be a certainty but are still alive inside of me...

On Christmas Eve there are many people throughout the world who hold candlelight services at churches, and while I haven’t gone to one of them since leaving the church a few years ago for different reasons, the idea of it always appealed to me, the idea of holding candles together in the dark, each one of us holding up a flame it only adds to the light that beats back the darkness. For many people Christmas is a holiday that honors and celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ, and the story of a savior laying in a manger (or a feed trough for farm animals) surrounded by angels and wise men is one that is retold over and over throughout the world this time of year. To some it’s a sweet story of hope, of light coming into darkness, of new life, and for others it is only the first part of a larger story, of God becoming a child and then growing up to be a man that would teach and challenge and heal and love and would eventually die on a cross at the hands of the very people he was trying to help, and then three days later come back from the dead. When I identified as a Christian I believed all of this, or tried to, I believed in that child in that savior in the manger and I believed in the larger story too, believed in the cross and the resurrection, believed in Jesus, much as I believed in Santa and his reindeer and his elves, I put my hope and my heart into all of it, or at least as much as I could... but like things have changed since I was a boy and I now see things differently, I could say the same now. I am not really sure what I believe in now, or where I stand on all of this. I guess you could say that I am a wanderer or a vagabond, maybe like one of those wise men (although I don’t feel particularly wise most of the time) who was looking for the Christ child. 

It’s not that I don’t believe in any of that anymore, believe in that child or believe in that story, it’s just I’m not as sure of it as I once was, because I have so many questions and uncertainties, and I no longer wish to embrace something wholeheartedly when it is a rose with some serious thorns on closer inspection, which was what the Christian faith turned out to be in my experience of it. But still, I do have something like faith I think, or at least hope. While I may no longer believe in Santa in the literal sense, I do believe in what you might call the spirit of Santa, or the spirit of giving, believe that people can be kind and generous to one another, and not just during the holidays but during any time of the year, and I think this is just as magical as any flying reindeer or toy-making elf. I could say much the same of Jesus Christ. I am not really sure whether I believe in him or not in a literal sense, or believe that everything that is written about him in the New Testament is literally true, but I do believe in what he represents to many people, I think the hope that people find in the child in the manger is beautiful, I think the thought that our Creator would become one of us is beautiful, that God would become a child in the arms of a mother, that God would share in our struggle and our pain as human beings, and even be willing to die at our hands to show his love for us, all of that is beautiful to me, and is what drew me to the Christian faith in the first place. I have since distanced myself from it because I have seen its dark underbelly, because it left me with more questions than answers, with more confusion than peace, because it disappointed me and brought me a lot of turmoil and anxiety... and its difficult to explain all of that to family and friends who still believe wholeheartedly what I once believed... but that doesn’t mean I have completely closed myself off to it, anymore than I have completely closed myself off to wonder or joy or magic or Christmas.

I still believe that there is hope in the world, and many people find hope in a child whose birth is celebrated on Christmas Day, and I still believe in miracles, and many people see the birth of Christ as one of the greatest of all miracles and see God as the source of all miracles, and the kind of God that I would want to believe in would be a God that would be willing to be born into our world and walk among us as one of us and would hurt with us and would even be willing to die for us, even at our hands, just to show us that he loves us, and many people believe that Jesus is that kind of God, or at least a reflection of that kind of God. So I am not completely closed to it, I’m just not sure about all of it, and I hope that everyone in my life that has more certainty than I do about what they believe would respect where I’m at and would allow me my uncertainty, would allow me to say ‘I don’t know’ and be okay with that. But with all that said, to me Christmas, whether you approach it as a secular or  religious holiday, is, or at least it can be, like those candelight services that I was talking about, where lights are held up and together beat back the darkness. Taking time to connect with family and friends, decorating, exchanging gifts, remembering and telling stories that give us some kind of hope, lighting candles in the dark... these traditions and rituals can be like our way of trying to beat back the darkness in this world and in our lives. Maybe it doesn’t always work, and maybe we don’t have the heart for it, but I think the desire to find light or create it and then hold onto it is human and beautiful and I believe whatever light we can find or create in our lives can, well, to put it simply, make our lives suck less and not be as shitty. So I guess you could say that I’m aware of all the reasons why people hate this time of year or don’t want to celebrate it. I’m aware of why people don’t want to have anything to do with it either on a secular level or a religious level, because I understand how much life can suck and how shitty it can be. And I understand people not believing in Santa or Jesus or any of that because I have my doubts about those things myself. But I still believe in the spirit of Christmas, in the spirit of Santa, and of Jesus, in what these things represent, or at least can represent, for many of us, I believe in our desire for wonder and joy and magic, in our desire for hope, in our desire to bring light into the darkness, in our longing and aching for these things, and I believe that there may an answer to these desires, even if not everyone can agree what that answer would be. May you, may all of us, find light wherever we can this Christmas and always, whether it’s in the kindness of one another, as human as we may be, or in stories or art or music or even in the things that so many of us may take for granted, or in nature, whether it’s in the falling snow or in the sun shining wherever we are on Christmas Day, or whether it’s in our memories or our hopes and dreams, whether it’s in a jolly old elf or a child in the manger or the magic or hope we may find in them as children or as adults, in the things that bring us comfort in our loneliness and our pain, in the feeling that maybe those we’ve lost are still with us somehow, and maybe someday, somewhere, we will see them again, and in appreciating what matters most to us, what brings us meaning or makes life worth living, and may we bring our own light into the world, and share that light with one another as much as we can, may we light our candles, however dim they may be, and together we will shine in the darkness.

[kayincolwyn]

Darkness, Light, Time, and Everything, Everything (reflection, 11-19-2017)

I had meant to write and post this sometime around Halloween a couple of weeks ago, though I didn't have the time for it, but here I am...

It's November, only a few days till Thanksgiving, and the leaves are falling and the rains are coming and the days are growing shorter and the nights are growing longer and it's getting colder, and I am thinking about how darkness and light mingle together, both in nature and in life, and about time, looking back and looking forward and at each moment, and then the mix of everything in the world and in our lives, and what matters most in the mix of everything.

And I guess that's what this reflection will be about.

I'll begin by talking about the music of swedish musician Anna Von Hausswolff. In my last reflection, Passion, People, and the Heart and Art of Kristen Stewart, I touched on Stewart's latest film Personal Shopper, but I didn't mention in my reflection that that was where I also first discovered Anna Von Hausswolff, whose beautiful song Track Of Time played during the end credits. After hearing that song I decided to look her up on Youtube and I quickly fell in love with her music, and she is now one of my favorite musicians.

Her music is creative and rich in its sound, including elements of classical and ambient and rock, while her lyrics are deep, poetic, and heartfelt, and overall her music has a kind of spiritual quality to it.

In her beautiful and thought provoking video for her song Track Of Time (which you can watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5tFWBw0-g1M) you watch as Anna walks quietly and reflectively through an old house as the song plays:

You keep troubles in your mind. And you keep them there all the time. And you won't share them apart, 'cause of your broken heart, you keep losing your time. You keep losing your time.

Hope is a pearl that your share. You share it all the time with people all around. And, you can't seem to find time But, you can't seem to find time And you loose it all the time. You can't keep tracking your time. You lose it. All the time. You lose it all the time. You lose it all the time, the track of time.

Hope is a pearl that I share. I share it with you. It's a pearl that I share. I share it with you, all the time. I share it with you, all the time. So I lose my track of time. I can't keep tracking my time. I lose it. All the time I lose it all the time I lose it all the time I lose it all the time, the track of time

he picks up an old watch from a drawer in the house at one point, looking at it solemnly and reflectively, the watch clearly a symbol of time, of the time that is being lost, the track of time, and during a chorus there is this ominous dark shadow that rears in a corner of a room in the house and there are images of her screaming silently as she runs through the woods, but then she finds an old harmonica in the house which she plays as she kneels down in the snow while the sun shines on her, the harmonica maybe a symbol of hope, and there are images of dark paintings and she paints dark lines on her face and her body, and of her lighting a candle, then at night she sets fire to the dark paintings as she kneels in the snow, and then at the end of the video she stands in the daylight still covered with dark lines and with the watch around her neck and she smiles as the video ends. When I watch it I feel like Anna is trying to express and share something very deep and meaningful to her through her music and through the video, and there is something raw and powerful and pure about it, and I think it speaks to everything I wanted to talk about here.

I know this is only my interpretation, but I think Anna, in her song and her video, is trying to express something about the mix of darkness and light in our lives and within ourselves, as well as the passing of time, our memories, about how the darkness that we experience in our lives may come and go, the light coming in to take its place, but just as easily the light that we experience in our lives may come and go as well, the darkness coming in to take its place, and sorrow and hope mingle together in our lives and come and go like the seasons, and all of this remains with us and is part of who we are, the darkness and the light are part of who we are, though we need not let the darkness and sorrow that we experience and that is part of us consume us, as we can light candles in the dark, and we can set fire to all of that darkness with our hope, a hope that we share, like music in our memories and in our heart, and in the end the key is to learn to embrace all of this, the darkness that is part of us but also the light that is part of us, all the time that we can lose track of but can also sometimes remember, all of our memories of sorrow and hope, everything that we are and that is part of our journey through life, and then we can smile, and perhaps even find some joy, in the midst of all of this, the simple joy of being alive...

I can resonate with all of this, the mix of darkness and light, sorrow and hope, in my life and inside of myself and being a part of who I am, wrestling with the passage of time and trying to remember what I've gone through and where I've been and what all of that means to me, trying to push back the darkness and sorrow and hold to the light and hope, trying to embrace all of it and every part of myself and find the joy in being alive in the midst of everything...

Recently I wrote this poem where I tried to express how I feel about myself, about how I am a mix of things:

I am a mix of many things of fears and dreams my thoughts and feelings black and white mingling into grey winter walking with spring night mingling with day

I am not one thing or another my soul is more than one shade or color my life a comedy and a drama written together the crowd attending my play as I pace nervously backstage

I am neither on one side or the other neither left nor right believer or skeptic winner or loser on all sides and none man in the middle and outside alone

I am contradictions and juxtapositions selfish giver honest liar faithlessly devoted carrying light and dark within a saint who sins

I am my failure and my potential everything I have done and haven't done everything I will do and won't do every call I answer and every one I ignore

I am a collection of many stories painful and wonderful and a wearer of many faces from laughter to tears a composer of heartache and of hope

I am who I once was and who I am now past and present moving forward as one and the world cannot see this hidden heart held by the stars and the sun

When I wrote this, like Anna I was trying to express something that is deep and meaningful to me, my experience of life and of being here in this world, and of course others may not fully understand what I am trying to express, just as I may not fully understand what Anna was trying to express in Track Of Time, but I believe that this experience of life being darkness and light, and sorrow and hope, intertwined, and of time and memory and the seasons of our lives coming and going and going back and forth, is something that is universal to the human experience and that anyone and everyone could relate to I think...

Recently my good friend Corri introduced me to a podcast for an outfit called The Moth, which has been active since sometime in the 90s I think. The Moth has people who share their stories onstage before an audience that just listens, and over the course of a couple of months while working I listened to hundreds of stories on their podcast, and these stories ranged from hilarious to heartbreaking, some of them lighthearted and silly and others heartfelt and profound, and everywhere in between, and they came from people all over the world and from every walk of life, and listening to these stories gave me a greater feel for how life is indeed a mix of darkness and light, of sorrow and hope, of everything that happens to us and how things change as time inevitably marches on, about laughter and tears and everything in between, and when listening to these stories I felt like I am only one soul among many souls and I am not alone in this human experience.

So while someone like Anna Von Hausswolff has her own journey in life, or the people who share their stories on the Moth have their journeys, and I have mine, and you have yours, at least in some ways we are the same, or are connected by what we share in common in our experience as human beings.

I also recently watched the film Arrival which also touched on some of these themes that I am talking about here. Arrival is one of the best sci-fi films I have ever seen, both intelligent and heartfelt, thought provoking and moving.

The film follows a linguistics professor named Louise who, when twelve strange spacecraft arrive on Earth on different parts of the globe, is tapped to attempt communication with the aliens in these spacecraft. The squidlike aliens communicate in a language that is, well, completely alien, but Louise is, through patience and determination, gradually able to understand their language and communicate with them on some level. The arrival of the aliens however has stirred a great deal of tension and fear among the nations, and while Louise is trying to build a bridge with the mysterious aliens whose intentions are unclear, others are trying to burn them down, and some even wish to declare war on these aliens simply because they assume the worst about them and are afraid of them because they don't understand them. But in the end Louise is able to resolve all of this and change the future by taking hold of the gift that the aliens wanted to bestow on humankind when they arrived, which is a kind of omniscient perception of time, seeing everything, whether past or present or future, all at once, and she uses this ability to avert disaster, but also to find peace by embracing everything in her own life, whether in the past or in the present or in the future, including the darkness and sorrow, the pain and loss, which she will experience in the future, because it is all worth it to her when with it comes light and hope, wonder and joy...

She says, even faced with the knowledge of deep pain and great loss in her future:

'Despite knowing the journey... and where it leads... I embrace it... and I welcome every moment of it.'

Learning to take the bad with the good is one of the hardest lessons we learn in life, and it's a lesson I am still trying to learn myself, though I don't think doing that requires for us to take any joy in the darkness and sorrow and pain and loss that we experience, only that we accept it as part of our experience of life, perhaps learning from it or perhaps not, but always fighting to not be consumed by all of it and trying to hold to everything that may counter it, the light in the dark, the hope in the sorrow, whether in our lives or in ourselves...

And sadly while we don't have the ability, or at least not here in this world, to look at our whole life with a bird's eye view, seeing everything at once, we can at least try to look at it from a larger perspective, seeing how we came through difficulties and struggles and survived them in the past, so we can do so now and in the future, and seeing how there may have been good things in our lives to be thankful for in the past and there may be good things in our lives now, so there may also be good things in the future to be thankful for, or things that give our lives meaning or that give us joy, so life, past and present and future, will always have some mix of both for us, difficulty and struggle as well as meaning and joy, and it is up to us to decide whether or not we embrace all of it...

Recently I watched another film called The Girl With All The Gifts (which was based on a book that I haven't read yet but intend to at some point) which follows a girl named Melanie who is actually a second generation zombie (or 'hungries' as they are called in the film) who ate their way out of their mothers who were pregnant at the time that they became infected, but who unlike the first generation hungries are self aware and intelligent and have emotions just like any other human, in spite of having the same craving for flesh that the first generation hungries have. Melanie feels a connection with her teacher, Miss Justineau, as well as resonating with one of the Greek myths that she tells Melanie and her other students, namely the story of Pandora, who opened a box that released evil on the world, but with it also releasing hope, which was at the bottom of the box.

Melanie is being held along with other second generation hungries at a research facility where they are being studied in hopes of finding a cure for the fungal infection that created this plague that has spread throughout the world. The facility is attacked and overwhelmed by first generation hungries but Miss Justineau and Melanie escape together, and along with Doctor Caldwell, who believes that Melanie is the key to a cure, as well as some soldiers, they go on a journey.

Melanie, while trying to keep her hunger at bay, is able to help them along the way, but eventually, after she discovers that the final gestation period of the fungus culminates in first generation hungries gathering together to form this massive tree with spores that can only be opened with fire or high levels of moisture, rather than allowing herself to be killed so her brain can be studied by Doctor Caldwell, she goes to set the tree on fire, which spreads the spores throughout the world effectively dooming the rest of the human race, but she keeps Miss Justineau (who may end up being the last uninfected human on earth) safe from the spores in a mobile lab while Melanie brings other second generation hungries to her to be taught so they can become the next generation of humans who will create a new world of their own.

So in the end Melanie is like Pandora, seemingly dooming the whole world by bringing darkness and destruction and death upon it, and yet she also brings hope with it, hope in new life arising from death, and for a new world, and perhaps better than the one before it.

When I was a kid I also remember resonating with the story of Pandora, with the idea of hope at the bottom of the box, or a little light in the darkness. I think as human beings most of us try to look for that hope, that light, in our lives or in ourselves, or in our faith or spirituality or whatever we may find meaning in, in the past or the present or the future, and try to hold onto that, sometimes for dear life, feeling as though it is the only thing keeping us afloat in a world that doesn't always make sense to us and seems to be filled with darkness and sorrow, especially when we are knee deep in it ourselves.

One of my favorite prayers is the Breton prayer, which goes something like 'Dear God, please be good to me, for the sea is so wide, and my boat is so small.'

The darkness and sorrow of the world, whether that is in the pain and suffering in it or simply the uncertainty and mystery of it, can sometimes feel overwhelming, and we can feel so small in the face of it, and we may find ourselves looking for help and something solid to stand on in the midst of it, which is what I am looking for when I pray this prayer myself...

A couple of weeks ago people throughout many parts of the world, including myself, celebrated Halloween, which is of course a holiday that focuses on all that is scary and spooky, but I think for some it can also be about finding light in the darkness, or a light to hold the darkness at bay, or it can be about facing our fears, the things that scare us.

Around Halloween I watched a film called The Boys In The Trees, an Australian film that came out last year but takes place in the 90s. In the film a high schooler named Corey is part of a group of friends, a skater gang called the Gromits, who are nearing the end of high school and want to celebrate Halloween by going out and causing trouble as they always do, TPing houses and creeping around graveyards and the like, but before they do they run into a fellow high schooler named Jonah that they always bully at the skate park, and when they knock him down Corey, who is an amateur photographer, takes a picture of him all bloodied after he gets knocked down by the leader of the group, Corey's friend Jango, and they begin to make copies of Corey's picture of Jonah and plaster them around town.

You find out through the course of the film that Corey and Jonah were once close childhood friends, and later that night a somewhat guilty Corey runs into Jonah skateboarding alone at the skate park, where Jonah challenges Corey to go with him on an adventure like they did when they were younger for old times sake, which Corey begrudgingly accepts. When they were boys on Halloween night they would go on a walk through the neighborhood and nearby forest and would tell eachother ghost stories and challenge eachother to face their fears, and this is what they do this night, and fantasy and reality begin blending together for them as the night goes on, while Corey's gang, led by Jango, pursue them, whom Corey later turns against in anger because of how he had treated Jonah.

A mysterious black man in a white suit appears now and then, watching Jonah intently, and they at one point find themselves in a Day Of The Dead type funeral procression led by the man in the suit, where Corey sees a photo of Jonah surrounded by flowers, but they continue to move on, until they reach a tree with lights in it, that contains many of their childhood memories, and they feel great joy as they climb it and remember, reverting to their childhood selves, but soon we flash back to what happened that ended their friendship, when as young boys they were attacked by these two older boys, and Corey ran to save himself while Jonah was left to be sexually assaulted by them, and after that point Corey avoided Jonah for fear of being associated with him and thus getting hurt like him. Corey feels remorse for abandoning his friend then and they reconcile, but then Jonah wants to show him one more thing, leading him to a public fountain, and then Jonah disappears and Corey finds Jonah's dead body floating in the fountain, and you discover that all along Jonah was dead since earlier that day (looking back you realize that through the night Jonah wasn't there or wasn't seen whenever Corey was interacting with anyone else throughout the night, except for all of those people at the funeral procession who were spirits of the dead), either having killed himself or having died in an accident (they don't clarify either way) and it was his spirit that was with Corey through the night, and the man in the suit was there to collect Jonah so he could join the dead.

Corey is devastated, but the friends who had been pursuing him, including Jango, when discovering what had happened to Jonah, feel ashamed for their actions and comfort Corey as best they can as the night comes to a close with the cops surrounding the scene. Flash forward about a year and you see Corey in New York City, fulfilling his dream of becoming a professional photographer, a dream he had set aside until Jonah's death inspired him to move forward, and in celebration of Halloween he is going out wearing the mask that Jonah wore that last night they spent together.

While the ending of the film is of course dark and tragic, what with discovering that Jonah had been dead all along, there is still a light in that darkness because Jonah had been given a chance even in death to somehow reconcile with his old friend Corey, to offer him forgiveness and more importantly help him to find redemption and inspire him to make a better life for himself, and also you find that even those who had bullied Jonah were still capable of humanity when they saw the final consequences of their actions, and instead of mocking Corey for his grief over the loss of his friend they sought to comfort him and be there for him, even if they felt awkward and uncertain while doing it. I thought the ending was beautiful in a way, because it showed that there is always hope, and even beyond death, to set things right, to mend bridges, to heal wounds, that there can be light even in the darkest of circumstances and places (like the tree with the lights in it in the darkness of the night) and that light can change us or give us the courage to move forward.

Lately I've been thinking about all the people in my life that I've become estranged from through the years for different reasons, the people that I hurt or let down in some way or hurt me or let me down, or mutually, or just people who have taken their own path in life and it no longer intersects with mine, and sometimes I wish I could find some way of reconciling or reconnecting with those people, or at least just making peace with them and then parting ways while wishing one another well, and wonder whether I will be able to do that in this life or will have to wait until the next life is there is one to have that kind of opportunity for healing. I honestly don't know, and I wrestle with this, the weight of relationships that fell apart or disintegrated or connections that frayed and faded away, as well as the weight of fear that more of the same kind of thing will happen in the future, and as time goes on this is what I wrestle with in my memory more than just about anything else, the memory of people that have come and gone in my life, the family and the friendships lost one way or another, the mistakes that I have made that have alienated or pushed people away... all of that weighs on me even as I try not to think about it too much because I'm not really sure what to do about it when human relationships and connections are a two way street and oftentimes when I have tried to work things out or reach out the other person had no desire to reciprocate, which has left me discouraged and saddened and sometimes reserved to the thought that disintegration and loss are always going to be an inevitable part of life... But I guess I can still hope that one way or another, in the end, there will be a chance to work things out, to connect or reconnect, to set things right, to build or mend bridges, to heal wounds, to bring some light, whether the light of forgiveness or grace or hope or healing, into dark places, like Jonah was able to do with Corey in Boys In The Trees...

And this brings me to another movie that I watched recently, as well as reading the book it was based on, called Everything, Everything.

I watched the movie and read the book back in the summer, and I enjoyed them both. The story centers around a young woman (who is about 18) named Maddy, who is half African-American and half Japanese, and who supposedly has a disease called SKIDs that weakens her immune system to the point that she can't be exposed to anything really for fear that she will get horribly sick and die because of her weakened immune system.

Her mother Pauline, who is also her doctor, set up their home to be sterile and clean and safe for Maddy, and aside from her mother and their housekeeper Carla and Carla's daughter Rosa no one is allowed in their home, and Maddy has never gone outside since she was a baby. She is an avid reader and blogger, and she gets most of her education through the internet, and considering her circumstances she is overall patient and positive, but her inability to go outside gives her a deep sense of curiosity and wonder about the world around her, as well as an aching and longing to experience things that she believes she will likely never have a chance to experience in her life. She is for the most part content with her life, or at least tries to be... until Ollie comes into her life.

Ollie is a young man, around her age, that moves with his family into the house across the street, and when they see one another through eachother's windows there is a connection and he holds up his email address on a piece of paper and then they begin communicating, and as they say, the rest is history.

They gradually begin to fall in love, then Carla, without permission from Pauline, lets Ollie come over to meet Maddy, and of course sparks fly, but eventually Pauline finds out and forbids Maddy to ever see Ollie again, as well as firing Carla for her part in everything. Eventually Maddy decides that she can't live like she has been living anymore and risks her life to be with Ollie and also to experience the world in the way she has always wanted to, so after leaving a note for her mother explaining everything she is feeling she leaves and runs off with Ollie, going to Hawaii (using a credit card she had secretly applied for online), which is the place her parents had went to together with her when she was a baby before her father and brother were tragically killed in a car crash. Maddy is able to see and experience the ocean for the first time, and she and Ollie make love, and she is full of joy, but then she becomes deathly ill, after which her mother finds out where she is and comes to take her home where she recovers from the illness. After this Maddy retreats into herself and stops communicating with Ollie in her hopelessness, and eventually he moves away to New York City, and Maddy is left heartbroken.

But not long after this she discovers a terrible secret that her mother had been keeping from her for 18 years, namely that she had never had SKIDs and was never really sick, and that after the death of her father and brother when Maddy was still a baby, because she couldn't stand the thought of losing her daughter as well she convinced herself that Maddy was sick so she would have some excuse to shield her from the world and keep her to herself, and she also finds out that the illness she had in Hawaii was simply some infection she had by chance picked up, and the doctors tell her that while she doesn't have SKIDs, she does have a somewhat underdeveloped immune system simply because of her lack of exposure to the world, so she will need to take it slow.

Needless to say when Maddy discovers all of this she is shattered and enraged and she runs away from home and Pauline, going to stay with Carla. Eventually after the initial shock she decides to try to make a new start, and she finds out where Ollie is, in New York City, and she goes there to meet him at a local bookstore, where they reunite and embrace eachother.

While the story is a little far fetched in some ways, I appreciated it and it resonated with me in some ways, and I really liked the character of Maddy. Maddy reminded me a lot of one of my dearest friends, Annie, who lives in Nairobi, Kenya, and who shares much in common with Maddy, like always trying to be patient and positive even in the face of very difficult circumstances, and not having much opportunity or as much opportunity as she would like to experience the world and having a longing and aching to be able to do that. I was going to try and send Annie a copy of the book as I think she would really resonate with it.

Anyways, I also appreciated it and resonated with it because I've felt trapped myself at times, not being able to experience certain things in life that I wish I could, feeling as though I am trapped behind glass looking out, seeing that others have something that I can only dream of, and also there was how Maddy struggles with the mix of darkness and light in her life, whether the darkness of her mother's betrayal, or the light of her mother's desire to protect her because of her fierce love for her, or the darkness of Ollie's family struggles (especially with an alcoholic father), or the light of their blossoming relationship and love for eachother even in the face of difficult circumstances and seemingly insurmountable barriers that are between them, or the darkness of her fear of sickness and death, or the light of experiencing the world in the way she has dreamed of for the first time, and she discovers how life is a meeting between light and darkness, between pain and joy, between fear and love.

In the book you find out that her favorite book is The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, and in her blog her summary of the book is that 'love is everything, everything'.

In The Little Prince, there is a memorable quote where it says “And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

Sometimes just thinking about all the complexities of life, the world, the universe, and of everything, can be really overwhelming, as I said above... the darkness or the light that I have experienced in my life or that you have experienced in yours or that any of us experience in our lives, memories of the past and then the ever moving present and uncertainty of the future, the mix of hopes and dreams with fears and doubts, and the things that I don't understand and the questions that I can't answer, whether about the world or the universe or even about myself... And it can all be so overwhelming, especially when I think about how small I am or how small I feel, like a lonesome soul in a little boat on a vast sea praying to an unseen God that may or may not exist or may or may not care.

But in this vast sea of darkness and light and time and of everything with the eyes of the heart I try to look for what is most essential, even if it is invisible, what matters most and is the everything amidst the everything. For Maddy it is love, whether the love of Ollie or simply the love of life, the love of everything that gives you joy or gives your life meaning and purpose, or love as some benevolent force behind things that can hold us together even when things keep falling apart. For me I guess it could be love, or maybe hope, or some vague notion of a warm and comforting embrace in the dark that I can't even put a name to, whatever pearl that you want most to share, whatever makes it all worth it, whatever it is that is at the bottom with you when you are at the bottom of the box, whatever light there is in trees in your darkness, or whatever is everything to you in the everything...

To bring this to a close, I wanted to talk about a dream that I had a few days ago.

In the dream I remember wandering around trying to meet these different women, one of them that might have been Elvira (yeah kind of weird I know, although I would like to meet her as she seems really cool, but anyways) and another being some musician or other celebrity whose name I can't remember and may not even be a real person, but I wasn't able to meet either of them as there were so many people that were surrounding them they were unreachable, but there was this other woman, a beautiful woman that I knew somehow named Alana, and I think she was outside, like on a bridge or maybe some kind of pier, as it felt like we were near the ocean (and there were other people around us but I didn't feel crowded by them, whereas the other women had been indoors and I felt more crowded by all the people around them) and there we embraced and her embrace felt warm and comforting and it was like we were one in that moment, almost as though I was hugging part of myself... it was beautiful. I can't remember anything after that though and I woke up soon after. After waking up I got out of bed and when I opened my bedroom door my wife Kaylyn was standing there, as she was just about to come in to grab something, and she gave me a hug, the hug feeling not so different from the one in my dream. After this I felt even more that the dream was meaningful in some way.

Now the only person I have known named Alana was a girl I kind of sort of dated in high school, really the only girl that I could have called a girlfriend during that time, and I guess you could have called her my first love, though not much happened between us, we never even kissed let alone more than that, and things didn't last very long or work out with us, and although I have her on my friends list and there is no bad blood between us or anything we don't really talk anymore and aren't close friends or anything. I wondered if the dream was about her, but considering how we aren't really close, and also considering the woman in that dream didn't really look like her, I wondered if the dream might not be about her, or maybe only symbolically and not in any literal sense.

So out of curiosity I looked up the meaning of the name Alana, and there were a couple of meanings, one being 'fair' or 'beautiful' and another being 'precious child'. I also looked up the meaning of hugging in dreams online and on a number of sites found the interpretation that hugging in dreams can mean learning to embrace a part of yourself or your life.

Maybe in some sense, at least symbolically, it was about the Alana I knew, in that she is a reminder of my past, of who I was back then, almost twenty years ago, foolish and immature in many ways but also wanting to be loved and accepted and not wanting to be alone, and while some things change other things stay the same...

But maybe it also meant that I should learn to embrace all that is fair and beautiful in my life and all around me, while also learning to embrace all that is fair and beautiful within myself, including the 'precious child' within.

A couple days ago I was listening to a interview on a Youtube channel I recently discovered called New Thinking Allowed which is from a TV interview show on PBS, and the interviewer, Jeffrey Mishlove, was talking Charles Whitfield, who is the author of a book called Healing The Child Within, and Charles Whitfield believes that there is a child within us, that innocent and pure part of us, and that child within us is our true self, our real self, and then everything that is built around that over the years in order to survive is our false self, which may be useful for our survival at times especially early on but isn't who we really are at our core.

While I'm not completely sure about this way of looking at things, it does resonate to some extent, and I have often felt that who I really am at my core is this scared and lonely but also curious and kind little boy, that at my center there is something vunerable, or someone tender, but built around that is all the masks I wear whether conciously or subconciously to get by in a world where I often feel uncomfortable or unsure of myself, an adult who in some ways still feels like a kid, as well as all the addictions and bad habits and ego and selfishness that I struggle with in my life and in myself.

Perhaps the other women in the dream were meant to represent less real parts of myself, masks that I wear or faces that I put on, that may attractive or beautiful on the surface and that others may appreciate or be drawn to but aren't who I really am at my core, masks and faces that keep me hiding inside, or lost in the crowd, while Alana may have represented my true self, or the most real, vunerable, tender, and beautiful part of myself, or who I really am at bottom...

Alternatively, the other women may have also represented all the things I chase after in my life that may be attractive or enjoyable or desirable to me but ultimately at the end of the day aren't as real or meaningful or fulfilling, while Alana represented all that is truly fair and beautiful in my life, all that is most precious, including the people that I love and that love me, like my wife Kaylyn for example.

I think all of this is another way of saying that I have both darkness and light within me, and the world has both darkness and light in it too, and while the darkness can seem bigger and stronger at times it isn't who I really am and isn't what life really is at bottom, the light, while it can seem smaller and weaker at times, is who I really am and what life really is at bottom.

And there are times when I may forget about that light within me, forget about that part of myself that is most tender and true, and also times when I may forget about the light all around me and that is most tender and true in the world, and I may lose track of time and lose track of all of this sometimes as I get lost in the day to day shuffle, being stuck in this linear step by step experience of life where one moment fades to the next and sometimes it is hard to hold onto everything including everything that matters most.

I guess all I can do is try to hold on, hold onto what is most fair and beautiful, what is most precious, what is most real and true, whether in ourselves or in the world around us, and I guess that is all any of us can do.

As I said in the poem that I wrote that I shared above, I am a mix of things, of contradictions and juxtapositions, and I know how far I am from perfect or having it all together, and how far I am from being all that I wish to be, and I know that the world too is a mix of things, of contradictions and juxtapositions, and I also know that it too is far from perfect and doesn't have it all together, and isn't all that we wish it to be... but we are who we are, and this world is what it is... but even while we may lose track of time, and all that is good in ourselves and in our lives, maybe there is hope we can find and even share, and maybe stories we can tell as we embrace the journey, and maybe we can find light at the bottom of our boxes full of darkness, and find healing in the midst of pain and new life in the midst of death, our everything in the everything in the eyes of our hearts, the precious child in a sea of faces, a warm embrace when we awake and open the door...

Hold on to the light in the darkness, to the moment in the track of time, to your everything in the everything... hold on.

[kayincolwyn]

Passion, People, and the Heart and Art of Kristen Stewart (reflection, 10 - 16 - 2017)

I know that the title of this post may seem like a strange one to some, especially to those who may think very little of the actress Kristen Stewart, who is best known for her role in the famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) Twilight film series, and I didn’t think much of her myself up until recently I admit, having prejudged her mainly because of her association with Twilight, which I judged as being stupid and really not worth my time and I enjoyed making fun of it (even though I never took the time to watch the films myself before passing judgment, and only got around to watching them recently, more on that later) but I have since changed in how I see her and even now consider her to be one of my favorite (if not my favorite) actresses, and now consider myself something of a fan of ‘K-Stew’ (which her fans affectionately call her). In this post I’ll be reflecting on different things, like what we are most passionate about and what really drives us, and our true selves that others may not always see or understand, but I will in large part be reflecting on the films and the heart and art of Kristen Stewart (or at least from what I’ve being able to pick up from her performances and her interviews). Up until recently I hadn’t seen any of Kristen Stewart’s films aside from seeing her when she was a teenager in the film Panic Room back when it first came out in theaters, and then in Snow White And The Huntsman which I watched it with my wife Kaylyn a few years ago. I only saw Panic Room just the once when it first came out so had kind of forgotten about it and her role in it, and while I admit that I did kind of like her in Snow White And The Huntsman and it softened my view on her a little, it didn’t really change my overall impression of her. That was until, going on a young adult film kick this summer, I decided to watch Speak, a film adaptation of a young adult novel of the same name (which I also read and appreciated, not long after seeing the film), which Kristen starred in around the same time she was in Panic Room.

Her performance in Speak as Melinda, a teenage girl trying to recover from being raped by a classmate, was powerful and heartfelt and really impressed and moved me. In the film the story of Melinda unfolds gradually, and while she carries a deep pain within her she also looks at the world with a refreshing honesty and with sarcastic wit, so her story is at turns funny, as she observes the shallowness and insanity of high school life, as well as poignant, as she tries to process her pain through her art (with the help of her art teacher) and find the courage to open up to others, to speak. After her rape at a party in her distraught state she had tried to call the cops, which led to her classmates at the party getting into trouble, which turned all of her friends against her and turned her into a social pariah at school, and because of how she was treated she kept what happened to her to herself, feeling that no one would understand or care, and so she becomes very quiet, rarely talking with anyone and just keeping to herself. But her art teacher begins to inspire her to express herself through her art and then she discovers this forgotten and unused janitor closet at school which becomes her hiding place where she hangs up her drawings and sets up her sculptures and has some time to herself where she can be quiet and get away from everything and everyone. (This reminded me of my days in middle school and high school when I was something of a social outcast myself, and during lunch period or after school was over I would often try and find some quiet place on the school grounds to get away from others and just be by myself.)

The most moving scene in the film for me was when she finds the courage to show her art teacher her hiding place and he sees all of her artwork, dark and full of pain but also beautiful somehow, and there are tears in his eyes (and admittedly there were tears in mine too). At the end of the film the classmate who had raped her tries to assault her again, and in her hiding place of all places, after he discovers that she had warned her former best friend, who was now dating him, about him, but this time she fights back and fights him off, and then she walks away down the hall, bruised but strong and with her head held high, as her classmates look on, realizing that they had all been completely wrong about her, and after this she finds the courage to tell her parents about her rape. I think Speak delves into themes of loneliness and wanting to be able to communicate and express what is most important to us (including our pain) and who we really are and how much of a struggle that can be, not only because it takes courage to open up, but also because others may not always understand or even care. I know that I’ve used this quote before in some of my other writings, but this reminds me of one of my favorite quotes, which is the opening paragraph to The Body, a novella by Stephen King which was adapted into the classic film Stand By Me:

‘The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them - words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller, but for want of an understanding ear.’ This also reminds me of a beautiful song by the singer Birdy (who I’ve also recently become a fan of) called People Help The People. The song is a cover, the original being by a band called Cherry Ghost, but Birdy certainly makes it her own.

Birdy recorded this when she was about 14 or 15, back in 2011, as well as making a powerful and moving music video for it which you can watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OmLNs6zQIHo The lyrics of the song are deep and poetic: [Verse 1] God knows what is hiding in those weak and drunken hearts Guess he kissed the girls and made them cry Those hard faced Queens of misadventure God knows what is hiding in those weak and sunken lies Fiery thrones of muted angels Giving love but getting nothing back [Chorus] People help the people And if you're homesick, give me your hand and I'll hold it People help the people And nothing will drag you down Oh and if I had a brain, oh and if I had a brain I'd be cold as a stone and rich as the fool That turned all those good hearts away [Verse 2] God knows what is hiding in this world of little consequence Behind the tears, inside the lies A thousand slowly dying sunsets God knows what is hiding in those weak and drunken hearts I guess the loneliness came knocking No one needs to be alone, oh singing [Chorus] People help the people And if you're homesick, give me your hand and I'll hold it People help the people Nothing will drag you down Oh and if I had a brain, oh and if I had a brain I'd be cold as a stone and rich as the fool That turned, all those good hearts away The second verse is my favorite part of the song, which I interpret (though it could be interpreted in other ways of course) as being about how God can see into our inner world, which is sadly of little consequence to most of those around us, since we are strangers to most of those around us, and behind our tears and our pain and the lies we may tell others or even tell ourselves there is desperation and beauty mingled together (a thousand slowly dying sunsets), the desperation and beauty of our soul, and God knows our deepest hearts, as busted up and broken as they may be, and we feel alone with loneliness knocking at our doors, though none of us really need to be alone, and then in the chorus there’s that beautiful line ‘people help the people, and if you’re homesick, give me your hand and I’ll hold it’.

Whether you believe in God or not (and I struggle with belief in God myself, going back and forth between faith and doubt) I think many of us can relate to that feeling of homesickness, of wanting to feel like we are loved and accepted and like we belong, and we look to eachother for this, wanting to find someone who will hold our hand and take away that feeling of homesickness, but oftentimes when we try to do this we are let down or disappointed, which is how I interpret those lines of the chorus about having a brain (like it might be more logical if we put up walls) and being cold as a stone and rich as a fool turning those good hearts away, because even hearts that are good at their core may not really understand or be able to help, which goes back to that Stephen King quote above, about the secret staying locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear. But even while we may often be let down and disappointed by others (just as we ourselves may let down and disappoint others), we can keep trying to reach out for a hand to hold, and may find some understanding, some love and acceptance and a sense of belonging, or even in spite of ourselves be able to offer it, with our fellow human beings who are more likely than not just as flawed and fallible and busted up and broken as we are, much as Melinda found that with her art teacher who saw not only the pain in her but also the beauty, which gave her the courage to open up, to speak. After watching Speak and being impressed and moved by Kristen’s performance I decided to go ahead and binge a large number of her films, about 25 of them in total. Here’s a list of the films I watched, in chronological order: Speak Catch That Kid Undertow Fierce People Zathura The Messengers In The Land Of Women The Cake Eaters Into The Wild Cutlass (short film) The Yellow Handkerchief Twilight Adventureland Twilight: New Moon Welcome To The Rileys The Runaways Twilight: Eclipse Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 1 and 2 Camp X-Ray Clouds Of Sils Maria Still Alice Anesthesia American Ultra Equals Personal Shopper Most of these films she had larger or starring roles in, in a few she had much smaller roles (Undertow, Into The Wild, and Anesthesia), and some I didn’t like as much or weren’t so memorable for me as others but I liked and appreciated all of them to some extent or another. Of course part of this has to do with how forgiving of a viewer I am, and also with my newfound interest in and appreciation for Kristen and her work, but some of her films were generally well done or even beautiful. My favorites were Speak, Zathura (a fun sci fi adventure film reminiscent of Jumanji), In The Land Of Women (a romantic comedy with heart), Into The Wild (a powerful and thought provoking film about the last couple years in the life of the controversial figure of Christopher McClandess, which includes Kristen in my favorite of her smaller roles), The Yellow Handkerchief (a moving drama about a man trying to find a lost love), Adventureland (a hilarious and quirky but heartfelt romantic comedy), Welcome To The Rileys (a drama about a man grieving the loss of his teenage daughter who tries to help a young stripper), Camp X-Ray (a thought provoking drama about a guard at Guantanamo Bay who befriends a prisoner there), Still Alice (a powerful and award winning drama about a woman with early onset Alzheimer’s where Kristen plays her daughter in one of her best roles), American Ultra (an underrated but I thought very fun and enjoyable action comedy with heart), Equals (a beautiful romantic reimagining of 1984), and Personal Shopper (a thought provoking drama about a woman who is trying to contact the spirit of her dead brother). As I don’t want this post to be too long (and it’s already pretty long as is), I won’t review or reflect on all of her films, or even on all of my favorites, but I will touch on some of them through the rest of my post.

I’ll start with Into The Wild, where Kristen only has a small but important supporting role, as a young woman named Tracy who takes a liking to Chris at one point in the film, sharing some of the best scenes in the film with him. I don’t want to go into too much detail as it is a long and complicated story, but for those who don’t know the story of Christopher McCandless, he was a man in his early twenties who left his family in 1990 and began hitchhiking throughout America meeting people and having different kinds of experiences and keeping a journal along the way, until he eventually found his way to Alaska where he found an abandoned school bus to set up camp, but he became trapped there and accidentally ate some poisonous berries which made him unable to eat after which he starved to death. It’s a tragic story however you look at it, but McCandless is a controversal and dividing figure as some see him as a hero or some kind of martyr while others see him as a narcissistic and foolish young man who died because of his selfishness and stupidity. I don’t think the film really sees him in either way but sees him simply as someone who was searching for his truth or meaning in life but sadly only found it in his death. Throughout the film, even though he connected with others along the way and there were people who wanted to be closer to him and wanted to be a part of his life, including Tracy, he still felt that he would only find true happiness in solitude, being one with nature like Henry David Thoreau and others that had inspired him, but in the end when he was trapped and approaching his death he realized that, as he had written in his journal towards the end of his life, that ‘happiness is only real when shared’.

He realized that, in short, no man is an island and we need other people, and if we are unable to share what we are most passionate about and what means the most to us with others then our lives are somehow the lesser for it. In other words, while we do need times of solitude and we do need to search within ourselves if we want to know and understand ourselves better, still, whether we like it or not, we need others, we need human connection, or else we will always be missing something. The film ends on a mystical and moving note with Christopher looking up into the shining sun as he lays dying in the bus, with tears in his eyes as he has some kind of wordless epiphany, so while the ending is tragic, as it must be, it is hopeful too, and Christopher’s story, while tragic, can still serve as an important lesson to all of us about how much we need eachother and how we aren’t meant to be alone. I found this theme of the importance of human connection and relationships throughout many of Kristen’s films, and I even get the sense, in part from her interviews and what she has to say about her craft, that Kristen gravitates to films like this because this is something that is important to her.

In The Yellow Handkerchief, we follow a man named Brett who was recently released from prison, who is kind of wandering aimlessly at first, and ends up running into and joining up with a teenage boy named Gordy (played by Eddie Redmayne, who starred in Fantastic Beasts) and a teenage girl named Martine (played by Stewart), and as the story progresses you get more insight into all of these characters. Brett was with a woman named May, and they had a passionate but tumultuous relationship (especially after she miscarried their child, which he discovered was because she had had an abortion years before that led to some complications for her), which led up to them getting into a heated altercation outside a bar where he got physical with her, and when a man on the street stepped in to defend May from Brett he pushed the man and the man accidentally struck his head during his fall and it killed him. Brett, at his core being an honorable man and feeling guilty for killing this man, who it turned out had a wife and children, turned himself in and plead guilty for manslaughter, after which he was sentenced to a number of years in prison. During this time May tried to visit with him and reconcile with him, as she still loved him, but he pushed her away, feeling like she was better off without him. After hearing his story Gordy and Martine coax him into searching for May to try and reconcile with her, and while he is hesitant he goes along with it, assuming that he probably won’t find her, thinking she has since moved on. And as the story goes along you get a little more insight into Gordy and Martine as well. Gordy is autistic and struggles with connecting with others while Martine ran away from home and had a difficult relationship with her father, and while at first there is tension between Gordy and Martine they end up connecting and even falling in love. In one of my favorite scenes in the film, Gordy talks about how sad he is, and how he feels apart from everything, and he asks Martine why she joined him and Brett, and she says that she was hoping she could get someone to care about her, and he tells he that she has that. The film ends with Gordy and Martine succeeding in helping Brett find May, who was waiting for Brett after he had sent a note to her in hopes that she would receive it and wait for him, standing by their boat where she hung up pieces of the yellow sail (making yellow handkerchiefs out of them) all around as a kind of welcome for Brett, and they embrace and weep for joy as Gordy and Martine look on, leaning on eachother. It was a beautiful ending to a beautiful film.

In a brief interview that Stewart did on the set of the film she said how the film was about three lost loners, and how so many people live their lives looking for some kind of reprieve or to connect with someone, and she says that it’s okay to be you and it’s okay to not be okay. What I take from what she was trying to say, and from the film, is that being broken and messy and imperfect is part of being human, and while there should be consequences for our actions (consequences that Brett accepted for example when he turned himself in for accidentally killing that man), this fact in itself is okay, or not anything to be ashamed of, and it is something we can accept as part of being human (even if we can keep trying to learn and grow as we live our lives), and we can actually find a kind of kinship and can connect in this shared brokenness and messiness and imperfection. In that one scene that I mentioned above, Martine even speaks of how she has an easier time trusting sad people, people like Brett, which is when Gordy opens up about how sad he is, which ends up helping them connect, as when he reveals his pain she can see past all of his idiosyncrasies and shortcomings and can see his humanity and see that he isn’t much different from her, because he is also human. While we can connect in meaningful ways through shared interests or joys, there is something about people connecting through shared pain and struggle and grief and loss that is unique and can bring us closer together then just about anything else, and this is where more than just about anywhere else all our masks and fronts that we put up are removed and we can see our true selves laid bare before one another. In short, our wounds and our sorrow is what reveals our humanity more than just about anything and makes us more real and important to one another and brings us closer together. This is also shown in Camp X-Ray, where two people on opposite sides and who are supposed to be enemies somehow connect in a beautiful way. In the film, Kristen plays Cole, a new guard at Guantanamo Bay, where she takes on the responsibility of making rounds checking on a handful of prisoners, including one who is particularly vocal and troublesome named Ali. Ali tries to talk to Cole (nicknaming her Blondie) and at first she ignores him, but eventually begins talking back, at first trying to get him to shut up, but eventually she begins to lower her guard and her walls when she sees how he and the other prisoners are being treated in inhumane ways, and she eventually strikes up a tentative but growing friendship with this prisoner. They communicate through the door of his cell or through a cage in a yard, only touching towards the end of the film when he threatens suicide and she reaches through his door and offers her hand and he takes it and her gesture of compassion and shared humanity stops him from taking his life.

Through the film there is a funny little thing about his love for Harry Potter and wanting to read the last book in the series which for whatever reason hasn’t been made available at the prison, and at the end of the film when she has to transfer and leave she makes sure that he gets the last Harry Potter book, and she leaves a message for him in it: ‘To Ali. I don't know if Snape's a good guy. But I know you are. Love, Blondie’ The film is thought provoking in that you don’t know whether or not Ali is guilty and a terrorist or if he is innocent as he claims, and whether he is just playing with Cole or if he is genuine, but there is the sense that both of them are truly lonely and want to connect with someone else, and somehow they do, and also they see good in one another, and whether or not Ali was guilty or whether or not he was completely honest with Cole doesn’t change the fact that they were both lonely and had a desire to connect with another person, and somehow, in the most unlikely of ways and in the most unlikely of places, they did, and then no matter what side you’re on or what you’ve done you are still human and still crave connection with others, and when others are willing to lower their walls and see through whatever we’ve done to the fellow human being underneath and connect with us, one human being to another, it’s a beautiful thing. Looking at another film, Anesthesia, which wasn’t one of my favorite films of Kristen’s as it was kind of slow and depressing, it still had something to offer and I appreciated how it delved into the sense of alienation that many of us have in the modern world. The film centers around a college professor named Walter Zarrow, played by Sam Waterson, who is wounded in a mugging, and looks at the lives of characters who are connected to him in some way. Kristen plays a student of his named Sophie who is deeply depressed and who is self harming (by burning herself with a curling iron) and while her role is small it is meaningful and her scenes with Waterson are among the best in the film. She opens up to him and a counselor about her loneliness, where she forcefully speaks of her anger and frustration towards a world that has become so inhuman and makes her feel alone and alienated while also hating herself for being so bitter and full of rage, and how she craves human connection and feels like she is not of this world. The film title, Anesthesia, speaks to this sense that there is so much numbness and apathy in the world, and Sophie talks about how we are all ‘plugged in’ with our technology and our work and we cut one another off constantly and leave one another feeling alone as we alienate eachother. While I don’t completely agree with Sophie’s sentiments, as I do believe that there is still love and empathy and hope in the world (and some of the problems Sophie points to may be more prevalent in the Western world) as the film also shows, Sophie’s sentiments aren’t without truth as they look at the darkness that exists in our world and in our hearts, and while there may also be light in the world sometimes that light can be hard to see when we feel so consumed by its darkness, as Sophie does.

Aside from Kristen’s performance, I also appreciated Sam Waterson’s performance as the professor, who gives this thought provoking and moving speech in his final class before retirement towards the end of the film (which is another one of the best scenes in the film) which is in a way a kind of answer to Sophie’s angry but heartfelt comments on the state of the world. He says this: ‘But then, what do all these thinkers we've examined this semester have in common, if we truly explore to find a common thread? At the outset of a century that would constitute the bloodiest in human history, along with scientific and technological advancements that would literally make us like gods, even as we began to dismantle the very meaning of God, they ask, what is a life? Does to live any longer have a how? Does it any longer have a why? Against a backdrop of industrialization, people will contend with alienation, dislocation, population on a mass scale, and murder on a mass scale. They'll consider the constraints of truth. Whether metaphor or paradigm, with many concluding actual truth has never existed. A nexus in the great human saga, when we dared to trade the organizing bliss, of good and evil, right and wrong, as determined by a creator for other opiates: communism, socialism, capitalism, psychology, technology, any learnable system to replace what had begun to evaporate: the 20th century. My own. But also the one into which each of you was born. For many, an era of hope, liberation, possibility. For others of abandonment and despair. A most human century in which we begin really to understand that Nietzsche was right: we are beautifully, finally, achingly, alone. In this void, philosophy at its worst becomes self-reflective, linguistic, semantic, relativism having rendered any discussion of right and wrong, good and evil, to be the quaint concerns of another age. At its most provocative, it asks other questions. Those concerned with locating our stranded selves, when meaning seems to have died, nothing less, in short, then 'why do we live at all?' and 'what makes us who we are?' They ask, 'what now?' And we're still asking it. What will fortify us as another century, your century, commences? Do we abandon finally the search for truths that seem ever more elusive, even silly to some? The ethical? The moral? The good? Principles that by definition can never be proven when so much now can be proved? Or is all this finally and forever pointless? Are we done? We can destroy cities, alter the planet irreversibly, speak instantaneously face-to-face from across the globe, create life where there was to be none, even while intoxicating ourselves with it all. And yet, how do we still seek purpose? And where do we hope to find it if we're so busy convincing ourselves there needn't be any? And so we wander, eyes closed to the dark, while technology, science, medicine and godlessness blaze illusions around us, with less to guide us now than ever, seemingly omnipotent, but more human and just as afraid. These quandaries do not end with this course in a week from today. They begin. And I certainly haven't taught these writers for 30 years just so you can drop references to existential thinkers and their antecedents at dinner parties. The crowd is untruth. In an era darkened by the false shade of imperviousness, you and those who pause to question, carry the light. It's been a wonderful 34 years. Let's not be strangers, either to one another, or more importantly, to everything we've learned from one another. May your best years be yet to come. And so for us all.’

In this speech Professor Zarrow looks into the abyss of all the numbness and apathy, the anesthesia, that has been created by all the changes that have taken place throughout our world (and especially the Western world), which have certainly had their benefits but have also had their drawbacks, and shows how when you deconstruct everything and question everything (which is sometimes necessary) you can be left with an emptiness that leaves you longing for meaning and purpose and hope, and while Zarrow doesn’t offer any definitive answers to how we can fill that emptiness or find meaning or purpose, he holds out hope, implying that those answers may yet be found by those who dare to keep searching even when sometimes it may seem pointless, and those who do carry a light in the dark, and also he implies that we can also find light in one another, pointing back to Sophie’s need for human connection, a need that we can’t ignore and must always remember as it central to our humanity. Basically what we need is love. And this leads me to one of my favorite performances from Kristen, in the film Still Alice. The films follows a linguistics professor named Alice (played by Julianne Moore) who develops early onset Alzheimer’s, and one of the main themes of course is about the importance of memory, and the sadness in its loss, but another theme, which is especially shown through the relationship between Alice and her daughter Lydia, played by Kristen.

In the end of the film Lydia becomes like Alice’s rock, sticking by her as her memory and her sense of self fades away, and in the final scene of the film, which was beautiful and moving, Lydia reads to Alice from the popular play Angels In America, and they have this exchange: Lydia Howland: [reading to her mother, but mostly from memory] "Night flight to San Francisco chase the moon across America. God, it's been years since I was on a plane. When we hit 35,000 feet, we'll have reached the tropopause, the great elt of calm air. As close to the ozone as I'll get, I - I dreamed we were there. The plane leapt the tropopause, the safe air, and attained the outer rim, the ozone, which was ragged and torn, patches of it threadbare as old cheesecloth, and that was... frightening. "Lydia Howland: "But I saw something only I could see because of my astonishing ability to see such things. Souls were rising, from the earth far below, souls of the dead, of people who perished from famine, from war, from the plague... And they floated up, like skydivers in reverse, limbs all akimbo, wheeling, spinning. And the souls of these departed joined hands, clasped ankles and formed a web, a great net of souls. And the souls were three-atom oxygen molecules of the stuff of ozone and the outer rim absorbed them, and was repaired. Because nothing is lost forever. In this world, there is a kind of painful progress. A longing for what we've left behind, and dreaming ahead. At least I think that's so." Lydia Howland: [moving over alongside her mother] Hey. Did you like that. What I just read, did you like it? Dr. Alice Howland: [barely grunting] Lydia Howland: And what... What was it about? Dr. Alice Howland: Love. Love. Lydia Howland: Yeah mom, it was about love. I think these lines from the play speak to the core themes of the film: ‘Because nothing is lost forever. In this world, there is a kind of painful progress. A longing for what we've left behind, and dreaming ahead.’ And while I don’t think in her mental state Alice can grasp all of this, still on some level I think she can feel Lydia’s love for her, the love of a daughter for her mother, trying to reach through everything and touch her within, that soul still inside of her somewhere, and I believe that is why she says the play is about love... and maybe the play of our lives is ultimately about that too, and this love still holds meaning even as our memories fade, because love can go deeper than memory alone... Speaking of love, in one of my favorite of Kristen’s films, Equals, an underrated gem that is something of a romantic reimagining of George Orwell’s 1984, there is this wonderful love story between Nia, played by Stewart, and Silas, played by Nicholas Hoult (who also played R in Warm Bodies). They both live in a world set in a dystopian future where emotion and touch and intimacy have been outlawed in the belief that emotions led to the near destruction of Earth in nuclear war, so humans are programmed to be stoic and analytical and to gives themselves to scientific pursuits (especially looking to the stars in search for other worlds, hopefully to one day colonize) and human feelings are seen as a disease to be eradicated. However this programming breaks down in some individuals, which begins to happen to Silas, who begins to notice Nia for the first time and he becomes attracted to her and soon discovers that she had regained her ability to feel emotions quite some time ago and has been hiding it and simply pretending to not feel anything so as not be discovered. It is tentative and awkward at first, but eventually, in spite of the potential threat to both of them, Silas and Nia find the courage to reach out and make contact with one another and they begin to fall in love.

While the film had mixed reviews, I appreciated their love story and how it unfolds in the film, and how the film delves into the philosophical aspects of love and connection and how important it is and how it is central to what it means to be human, much as was done in 1984. In one of my favorite exchanges in the film between Silas and Nia, they say this: Silas: It's so weird; I'm like... I keep thinking about... ever since we were kids, it's been drilled into us that our purpose is to explore the universe, you know? Outer space is where we'll find the answers to why we're here and where we come from. It's like everyone's... searching for these answers eight hundred million miles away and the truth is the answers are right in front of us. [looks into Nia's eyes intensely] Silas: I know why I'm here. Nia: Me too. While this exchange may seem a little cheesy to some, I think there’s a lot of truth in it. If anything I think there is as much mystery in the human soul as there is among the stars, and you could even say that there is a whole universe inside of each of us (which we may or may not be aware of) as there is out there, and while it isn’t wrong to search for some answers among the stars (and I have a sense of childlike wonder about what’s out there as much as anyone), maybe we can find the answers to some of our deepest questions about why we are here in one another, in loving one another. Towards the end of the film Silas and Nia are found out, and eventually it leads to Nia being captured, and when he believes that she has been executed he decides to take a new cure for the ‘disease’ of human emotion in order to escape his grief, but through help from within the government who have also tapped into their emotions and sympathize with them she escaped and returned to Silas, though the cure had begun to take an effect, which seemingly meant that their love story would end in tragedy as he forgot everything that he had ever felt for her, but rather than give up on him she stays with him and they leave their city to go out into the wastelands to hopefully find freedom, and as they go Nia has tears in her eyes heartbroken because of Silas’ loss of feeling, but seeing her crying he takes her hand and holds it, showing that he is still in there somehow and there is hope. And speaking of hope, there is Kristen’s latest film, Personal Shopper, where she plays a woman named Maureen who is trying to make contact with the spirit of her brother Lewis, who had died some time ago. The film is strange in some ways, with Kristen playing a personal shopper for this celebrity model, and then she begins receiving these progressively more and more creepy texts from someone and she thinks it might be her dead brother, though after the famous model that she works for is murdered she wonders if it may be her murderer, who turns out to be her ex boyfriend, but then at the end of the film she is still left with the question of whether or not her brother as been trying to contact her, and then she travels to Oman (which is somewhere in the Middle East) where her boyfriend has been staying, and there she enters this room by herself and hears this knocking, and thinking that it may be Lewis who somehow followed her to Oman, she begins trying to communicate with him, asking yes or no questions with one knock for yes and two knocks for no, etc, and she asks ‘Lewis is it you?’ and there is a pause, and then she asks ‘Or is it just me?’ and you hear one knock, and the film ends.

This ending leaves you wondering if everything Maureen experienced was just in her head, or if it was Lewis, or even if it was another spirit, even an evil one, that was just playing with her, or maybe some combination of all of these things. Whatever the case, Maureen is shown as someone who is struggling to understand her place in the world and who she really is in the wake of her brother’s death, and she is passionate about trying to find out whether or not he is truly gone, and while the answer she seems to receive at the end is somewhat ambiguous it seems to give her some kind of peace, even while it leaves the audience with questions. I wonder if her peace is found in the midst of that ambiguity, not really knowing for sure whether it’s actually Lewis or something else or just her, because whatever it is she knows that she loved her brother and she misses him and somehow he will always be a part of her and she can somehow keep living knowing that, while holding onto the hope that somehow he is still there and will see him again. In my last post I talked about grief and death and the afterlife so I didn’t want to delve into that again too much here, but I will say, in connection with the themes that I’m talking about in this post, if one of the things we are most passionate about is our close relationships, then that passion can become even more powerful when it turns to grief (because who we are is all wrapped up with them as they are a part of us) as there is a drive to regain what we have lost, until perhaps, like Maureen, we find that somehow we never really lost them, or at least not completely, or that maybe our loss is really only an illusion (although it certainly may not feel that way) and one day our eyes will be opened and then we will see them again... or at least this is something we hope for... In Kristen’s interviews she can come off as socially awkward, stumbling to find words to express herself, and she can jump around from thing to thing and sometimes it can be hard to follow, but in spite of this I appreciate her passion and her honesty and how she is entirely herself even on camera, and as she said in the quote at the top of this post and has said in other places, she aims to be sincere, to be herself, even if that means others may hate her for it. She also has said that even though she isn’t active on social media as that isn’t something she is drawn to and in some ways she is a private person, she still ‘wants to be seen’ by others in her work, or she still wants to express her heart through her work so that others can know and understand who she really is on the inside. She has said that the way she tries to approach her performances is by tapping into different parts of herself and channeling them into her characters, and while I’m sure she isn’t the only actor or actress to take this approach, just hearing her reveal that about her craft makes me wonder if you are getting some glimpse into her soul here and there while she is on screen, and then broadening that I wonder if the same could be said about other actors and actresses as well as artists of all kinds, and really all of us. I could even say this of myself in my writing, where I try to express my heart and give others a glimpse of my soul through my words. Perhaps (and there is probably no perhaps about it) it isn’t perfect, but it’s my way of trying to be seen by others, or at least taking a chance in the hopes that I will be seen by others.

Before I concluded this, I wanted to touch briefly on the Twilight films, or at least what I thought of them, and how easy it is to make assumptions about things or about people or to judge them based on what we don’t like about them or on their faults or flaws while ignoring everything else about them. Kristen has said that she tries to choose all the roles she takes on carefully and there are only a few, especially when she was younger, that she has any regrets about, and while she hasn’t said that the Twilight films are among them, there are those who see her presence in those films as something to be held against her. I actually watched them and I will say that while I didn’t absolutely love them and they weren’t among her best work in my opinion, I didn’t hate them either, and they were at times oddly enjoyable (especially the last one where they kind of went all out and seemed to have more fun with it, and Kristen was admittedly pretty cool as a super strong badass vampire) because of the sheer cheesiness and weirdness of all the goings on (like vampires playing baseball for example), and I liked some of the characters or some of the character interactions or character developments and I didn’t think it was all bad. So in short I no longer hold her association with ‘sparkly vampires’ against her and while that’s mainly what she is known for by mainstream audiences, it’s not all there is to her. I regret having judged Kristen Stewart so harshly for her part in those films, and this makes me think of other times when I have passed judgment when I didn’t really know what I was judging and was just judging based on assumptions, like when as an evangelical Christian for a time I thought Harry Potter was bad, as others in my church thought or told me, until I actually watched the films and read the books for myself and really enjoyed them and even discovered that the books and films contained many Christian themes. I think when any of us share something of ourselves with the world, whether it is a book that we wrote or a film that we acted in or a reflection that we typed up in a blog on Tumblr, there is always the chance that it won’t be seen or understood or appreciated in the way that we hope it will be (if it is seen at all as others may simply ignore it and pass it over), or more likely than not that will happen as everyone is different and has different perceptions, so one man’s trash is another man’s treasure and all of that. I mean, just look around on social media and you’ll see how many differing opinions there are on pretty much everything, ranging from profound love to utter hatred when it comes to Harry Potter or Twilight or blog posts like mine or celebrities like Kristen Stewart or political figures like Donald Trump or when it comes to current events or social issues or really anything you can think of... And others may judge us for our mistakes alone, like others may judge Kristen for supposedly cheating on Robert Pattinson when she was dating him or condemn her for now dating another woman or whatever tabloid drama they may hear about, or they may judge us for our differences or idiosyncrasies, like Kristen’s acting style that some don’t really like or how they think she doesn’t smile enough or whatever, all the while ignoring or forgetting about or simply not seeing or understanding all the good in us and about us or not remembering our shared humanity, and regardless of our station and standing in life. And yet we still hope that what we are trying to express or share with others, whether it is what we are passionate about or whether it is who we really are, that we will be seen and understood and that a connection can be made through that, with others perhaps seeing something of themselves in us or seeing our shared humanity, and thus feeling a little less alone in the world. I think that is what I aim to do in my writing or what my hope is at least in part, that not only can others get a glimpse of my inner self through my words but can maybe even get a glimpse of their own inner self by getting a glimpse of mine and maybe feel a little less alone because of that. I hope to receive something in return for trying to express myself and share something of myself, and I think that’s what many or most of us hope for, but I also hope to give something, which is something else many or most of us hope for as well I think. I imagine, from what Kristen has said at different times in her interviews and from just watching some of her performances in her films, that this is something that she is aiming for too, and I respect that and appreciate that in her, just as I respect and appreciate that in myself, because this is part of what makes us human and I believe it’s a beautiful thing, because whether you’re a janitor that hardly anybody knows like me or you’re an actress that almost everybody knows like Kristen Stewart, you’re still human, and you still have passions, whether that is a passion to share what is in your heart through your art or to share your pain or sorrow or your wonder or joy or to share what you love or care about or feel strongly about, or to share your happiness, or you may still have a desire to be and to show who you truly are deep down and have others see you and understand you and accept you for who you are, and you still want to be loved and accepted and want to know that you’re not alone. I’ve never met Kristen Stewart, and probably never will (though I wouldn’t mind meeting her as she strikes me as a pretty cool and interesting person that I would like to be friends with), I still think I have ‘seen’ her in some sense, or caught a glimpse of who she really is on the inside, in her work, and when I am paying attention I could say the same of family and friends and even strangers, by the look in their eyes or through their art or their words or their actions I can see something of who they really are, and I hope that others can glimpse who I really am too at times. And I doubt Kristen Stewart will ever read this, but if by some miracle she does, then I will say this: -------- Thank you Kristen for trying to share something of your heart with the world through your work, and even while many may misunderstand or even hate you, there are those like myself who can see something of what you are trying to express to the world, and appreciate it, and also remember that just because you’re a famous celebrity that doesn’t mean that your value as a human being has decreased, even if others may forget it, seeing you only as an idol to idolize or a target to attack, when you are at bottom no different from them because you are a human being just like them, with passions and desires and fears and hopes just like anyone else. Keep being sincere, keep sharing your heart, and keep being yourself, because you’re beautiful and wonderful just the way you are, even with whatever faults or flaws you may have, because as you yourself said, it’s okay to not be okay, and it’s okay to be you. I see you and I appreciate you, and I wish you all the best in life. -------- And I could say something like this to others as well, but I admit that I don’t very often and not only because it’s admittedly awkward and can make you feel just a little weird and self-conscious (and I probably only have courage to say this to Kristen because of the anonymity of the internet and the very very very slim chance that she will actually read it herself) because it can be really easy to miss the beauty in another person, or even miss the pain and desperation that we share and that may bond us together, just as that shared beauty may. I think many of us are passionate about being seen and understood by others, and about connecting with others, and about making a real difference through our voice and our art and our way of expressing ourselves in the world, and I think deep down we want to be and show who we really are and be able to see others as they really are and want them to be who they really are, or at least that’s what I hope can be found in the human heart underneath it all, a desire to be true to ourselves and to one another. And it is the love and the connections between us, that sense of being seen and understood, when the teller finds an understanding ear and when happiness is shared, that can beat back the loneliness knocking at our doors and can beat back the darkness, whether in ourselves or around us or maybe even the darkness of death, and that can teach us to look past everything and see another soul like us who feels homesick just as we do, and maybe sometimes we may even find the courage to say to another soul something like, whether in words or in some other way, ‘give me your hand and I’ll hold it’.

[kayincolwyn]

Grief, Death, and Life After This (reflection, 9-16-2017)

Earlier today I went with my aunt Angie, the youngest daughter of my grandpa, Allan Tompkins, who passed away in March of this year, to his grave site at Willamette National Cemetery here in Oregon where he is buried. It was the first time in my life that I have ever visited the grave site of someone that I really knew and loved while they were alive, so it was a strange and somewhat surreal experience for me. I was talking with a friend yesterday who, when I mentioned my plans to go to the cemetery today, wondered what the significance of grave sites are when people (as she believes) are souls and not bodies so when they die they aren’t tied to the place where they are buried, and I told her that I believe some people feel that a grave site is like a focal point for them, or even a place where they can feel the presence of their loved one more strongly, even if they may believe that their loved one is with them in spirit all the time and everywhere. I said, just to use an analogy, that it is like how some people who believe in God may feel closer to God when they are in a church, even if they may believe that God is with them all the time and everywhere. Perhaps a grave site can be like a ‘thin place’ (as it is known in Celtic culture) for some, where the wall between our dimension and whatever dimension they may be in now isn’t quite as thick or impenetrable as it would otherwise be. Perhaps this sense is only in our minds and is purely subjective, but whatever the case it is meaningful for some, being at the place where their loved one has been buried.

My aunt Angie, who is a very emotional person (and to her own admission) broke down in tears, and I put my hand on her back as she knelt there weeping and tried to comfort her as best I could, and I said it was okay, and I said that because it was, as there is no shame at all in deeply loving someone and showing that love, especially when the person you love have been taken away from you, away from this physical world in which we live, and their absence feels like a wound in your heart. I didn’t cry then because like my mom I am not someone who cries very much. Tears come when I am deeply moved by something, like something that really strikes a chord with me, like something I read in a book or a scene in a movie or something I hear in a song, or when something happens in my life that touches me at the core, and tears often come to me unbidden, and there isn’t much rhyme or reason to it. More often than not when I am sad I am just quiet, pensive, somber, which, mixed with some awkwardness at having a new experience, is how I felt while being at Allan’s grave site today. Angie let me have a couple minutes by myself at his grave site, and I will admit that it felt kind of weird at first, though it was ultimately meaningful for me. I wondered if Allan can now see me or watch over me in my day to day life, or can even read my thoughts, and I wondered what he would think of me seeing all of the things that I’m not particularly proud of in my life or in my mind, but there was this sense that I wasn’t judged for any of that, that I was still loved and accepted no matter what. I said something like ‘I don’t know if you’re here watching me and listening or where you are now, but I hope that you’re okay, and thank you for being a part of my life’ and the wind picked up a little when I said this, which may or may not have meant anything, and I touched his grave stone and got up and left. While I’m not sure whether I can say that I felt any closer to him there, experiencing that was meaningful, both in how it helped me to connect more with my aunt in our shared love for this ‘unforgettable man’ (which is written on his grave stone) and also just being able to share from my heart in the hopes that I could be heard somehow. Grief, thus far, has been a mostly quiet and, admittedly, relatively painless experience for me, mostly some combination of numbness and somber reflection and a few tears in private moments, probably in part just because of how I’m wired, but I realize that for some it can be a tumultuous and deeply painful experience. Whatever the experience may be like for you or for me whenever we lose someone, I think it’s okay, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Whether we cry or don’t cry, whether we rage or don’t rage, whether it hits us like a ton of bricks or it just makes us feel numb, it’s okay, and it’s human. I remember the Christian author Rob Bell saying something like this in one of his NOOMA videos, a video entitled Matthew, where he talks about grief, and where he talks about the death of a young friend named Matthew and how that impacted him, and that was one of the things that stuck with me, that whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay.

(If you are interested in checking out that video, you can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0P0VKgSv80) When someone that we love and had a real connection with dies, it’s like there’s a piece of our life and our heart that’s now missing, or as Rob Bell put it in the video, it’s like there’s this hole where they once were, and I think at least in some way grief is like a pain we feel from that hole, that wound, inside of us, and however we feel that pain in us or how we express it is nothing to be ashamed of, because where there is love there is always going to be pain or the potential of pain and love is nothing to be ashamed of.

And does that love, that connection of love, continue beyond death? After someone dies does that love then become only one sided, on the side of the one who is still living, while the one who is dead is now simply gone? I can’t say for sure, but I do hope so. One of my favorite quotes is from the TV film Miss Rose White, a powerful film about two sisters, Rose and Lusia, one who moved to America with their father before the Holocaust, and one who got stuck in Germany with their mother during the Holocaust and was sent to a concentration camp, where their mother died but she survived, and Lusia comes home to stay with them, and while obviously Lusia experienced far more suffering personally than her sister Rose ever did in America, the one thing that she had that her sister never really had was the chance to really know and have a connection with their mother, which is a pain that Rose deeply feels even though she hasn’t talked about it with anyone until she opens up about it to Lusia, and when Lusia sees and recognizes this pain in her sister she gives Rose a letter that her mother had left for her, with a lock of her hair enclosed, where she tells her daughter how much she loves her, and how much having to let her go broke her heart, and this letter speaks to that pain she has felt for many years in a healing way, and then as Rose breaks down in tears of both sorrow and joy, her sister Lusia holds her and says to her: ‘You see? Love does not die, and time cannot kill it, nor even many miles, nor even death.’ This really spoke to me, and speaks to me still, when I think of those connections that we have with those we love and who love us.

Setting pure sentimentality aside, we all know that love between people can be a complicated thing, which the film Miss Rose White shows (and in a Hallmark film ironically enough), because even when there is real love between people we can still hurt eachother and can let eachother down, and our love for one another is often imperfect and of course human, but it is no less real or valid for that I think, and this love, imperfect and human though it may be, may still have the power to transcend time and space and even death, so those connections between us remain regardless of time or distance or even when the veil between life and death separates us. Death, as we all know, is a terrible thing, something tragic and heartbreaking, or at least it is when we have lost someone that we had a real connection with, and especially when it comes sooner than we expected or in a way that is more painful than we imagined or hoped it would be. We all hope that those we love will live a long life and when they go they will go in peace and surrounded by loves ones. Sometimes this happens, and sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes people die young, or die in horrific ways, or die alone, and there is nothing much that can be done about it. These things happen, and those who face such loss, a loss that can’t be dampened in any way by the knowledge that they lived a long and full life or that they died in peace or that they died with someone that loved them holding their hand, have to cope with it as best they can, and of course that is far from simple or easy, and each person facing that has to face it in their own way. But however someone we love may die, we will feel that loss to one extent or another, and many of us will be left wondering why death must be a part of life, why mortality is something that has to be faced, and whether that is the end of everything or if there is something more beyond this, and we wonder what their fate may be and what our fate may be and if we will ever see eachother again.

Recently I finished reading the book The Lovely Bones, by Alice Sebold, after watching the film adaptation a couple of weeks ago. I liked the film, though I found that the book was better, as in the film they made many changes and it was a very abbreviated and simplified version of the story without quite as much richness and depth to it as the book. Anyways, The Lovely Bones (for those who don’t know the story or haven’t read it themselves) is from the perspective of a teenage girl named Susie Salmon who was murdered by a serial killer, George Harvey, and it is the story of how she watches over her family (as well as her killer) trying, at first, to let her family know who killed her so they can bring him to justice, but then in time focusing more on the healing of her family. She watches (from her ‘heaven’, a kind of self made paradise similar to what was shown in the film What Dreams May Come, which The Lovely Bones reminded me of a bit in some ways) as her family and friends and those who knew her grieve for her and how they all handle their grief differently, like her father who obsesses about finding out who killed her and avenging her until he finds some kind of acceptance, or her mother who implodes and begins to have an affair and then runs away from home for years until she too eventually finds some kind of acceptance, or her sister and her brother and how they both have to learn to live in a world without their sister, or a boy, named Ray, that she loved and had her first and only kiss with in high school, or an odd girl, Ruth, who has some psychic ability and who felt Susie’s spirit passing by on the night she was murdered, and how they connect through their shared connection with Susie, or even George Harvey and his struggles with the monster inside of him, both wanting to bury it and wanting to feed it, and she watches for years as time goes on and her family and friends and her killer all continue on with their lives while she is gone. At the end (while George Harvey was never caught he does years later face some kind of karmic justice when in the process of trying to lure another girl he accidentally stumbles and falls off of a cliff to his death) her family eventually comes back together (after her father has a heart attack which drives his wife to return home after eight years and reconnect with him and her family) and she sees all the things that happened that may not have happened and she sees all of the changes in people and in their relationships that may not have happened if she hadn’t have died, and some of them good, like beauty from ashes, and she can see ‘the lovely bones’ that are built around her loss, which may not justify her death or make it a good thing, but it brings her comfort and joy knowing that those who loved her are going to be okay, and this helps her to let go and begin to pull away from her life on earth, perhaps as she prepares to move on to something else beyond or greater than her own heaven... Reading The Lovely Bones made me think about the potential nature of life after death. Would life after this be like it is portrayed in The Lovely Bones or What Dreams May Come, where our own consciousness in large part creates the world that we inhabit after we leave this one, or would it be a world that is created for us by some higher power (which is oddly never mentioned in The Lovely Bones, though that doesn’t necessarily mean that no such power exists, although perhaps the author doesn’t believe in God while she may believe in an afterlife, which is sometimes the case, and being somewhat agnostic myself I am not completely opposed to that idea, even while I do lean in the direction of believing in God or a higher power)? Do we all, or do just some of us, wander about as spirits on earth forever, or do we all, or do just some of us, eventually move on to something else whenever we’re ready? Are we reincarnated, and if so would that be something that we choose or is it chosen for us, and how would that be decided? And is there an end point to reincarnation, and if so what is it? Do those who die children grow up in the next world or do those who die when they are old find their youth again? Do we become part of the energy of the earth or the universe or God and lose ourselves or do we maintain our individuality somehow? Is there a heaven and a hell as is traditionally believed by many people, and if so are there doors in and out of these realms, or are there many realms, and doors in and out of these? As I have written elsewhere, I am opposed to certain ways of looking at life after death not because I am sure that those things can’t be true, because I honestly don’t know for sure what is true or not about what happens after death if anything because I haven’t crossed the veil myself yet, but because those ways don’t seem right or just to me. I oppose any way of looking at life after death that leaves out second chances or hope, that offers no path to healing or redemption for whoever needs it, including even the worst of people, like Susie’s killer George Harvey. I am a universalist, as I have said elsewhere, meaning I believe, or at least hope, that every soul, and regardless of how broken or twisted they may have been in life, will eventually find peace, and in the end all will be well. This may not be a certainty I possess, as, like I said above, when it comes to life after death I’m not certain of anything, but it is something that I choose to believe or hope for because I believe and feel that it is right and it makes sense to both my head and my heart.

I realize that many would disagree with me on this, including people that I love and who love me, and I can sympathize with the widespread belief and feeling that some people are so terrible and so horrible that they should be thrown away or punished forever (as is believed by many within the Christian and Muslim faiths as well as in other faiths) like people who murder children like George Harvey, because the things people like that do really are terrible and horrible, but I just don’t believe and feel that it is right or just as I believe that every soul, and no matter how damaged they may be, has value and worth, and healing and redeeming a broken and twisted soul and reconciling them with those they have wronged makes much more sense to me than just getting rid of them or torturing them endlessly which accomplishes nothing at all, while healing and redeeming them and reconciling them with those they have wronged could bring even more joy than there would otherwise be... To me throwing a soul away or punishing them forever is, simply put, a waste. And if there is a God, who many think of as love and who would define as love, then if we, being imperfect and human, cannot love those who seem utterly unlovable because of their terrible and horrible actions, does that mean that God, who created these people, cannot, or if we, being imperfect and human, cannot change them even if we wanted to, cannot heal them or redeem even if we wanted to, does that mean that God, who created these people, cannot? And if God can do what we cannot do, what makes us think that God, being love, unconditional love, will not? Perhaps I am mad for believing that all of us, even the worst of the worst, can find healing and redemption, and again I realize that for various reasons, because of different beliefs or experiences in life or ways of looking at things, that many would disagree with me on this, but this is what I believe (or at least it is what I hope for) and this is how I feel about this and I would hope that we can at least agree to disagree, and perhaps find common ground in other areas or other ways. But even if I may hold to this hope, that all will be well in the end for all of us, still I am not sure at all really of how that would come about, or have much idea on the details or particulars or general makeup of life after death, if there is indeed life after death. Recently our close family friend Bryan passed away (whom I wrote about here in my last post) and he had talked about how he would try to give signs to family and friends after his death, signs that he was still around. My sister has been having dreams about Bryan where he was trying to talk to her and get her attention, and my mom has said that she has felt touches on her shoulder in a way that Bryan would sometimes touch her and when she turned around no one was there, and his family has had a few odd things happen since his passing (though nothing overtly paranormal or spiritual), but I’m not sure if this is Bryan or if it’s just all in our heads. Like was that wind that picked up while I was talking to Allan, or hoped that I was talking to Allan, at his grave site, some kind of sign, or was it just wind? I don’t know, I mean I wish I did, but I honestly don’t. I guess, like with so many things in life I can only hope. But while I don’t know what may or may not come after death, or what the dead are like or what form they have if any or what they can and can’t do or what kind of connection we can have or can’t have with them while we are here, or what it would be like to be dead myself, or any of those things, I do know that whatever the case may be that I have to, and we all have to, deal with grief and the cost of pain that is found in loving and connecting with someone, and I know that I have to, and we all have to, deal with death, with the tragedy or even the horror of it, and whether that may be the death of someone we love or our own death. And yet I also know that around loss there can grow ‘lovely bones’, like how losing my grandpa Allan opened the way to connecting with his family. I think of how Angie and others in his family welcomed me and embraced me at his memorial service, and how after reading what I had written for Allan and had shared here at his memorial service people came up to me afterwards and thanked me for sharing it and telling me how much it meant to them, and I think of how my mom came to pick me up and, a little hesitantly and awkwardly at first, met her siblings for the first time, and how it went better than I thought it would, and it filled me with joy to see her connecting with her siblings and finding that they accepted her as a sister, as they accepted me as a nephew. I think of having lunch with my aunt Angie today (seeing her for the second time in person) and enjoying some conversation and I think of how we connected at Allan’s grave site, sharing grief and love for this man who impacted both of us in ways that we can’t forget. I think of how Angie met my sister, Harmony, her niece, for the first time today after she dropped me off, as well as meeting my wife Kaylyn and my sister’s husband Nick, and I think of how my mom shared family photos with her and there was laughter and connection and even some healing I think, and I believe this was a lovely thing that came to be is at least in part because of my grandpa’s death, which of course, as in The Lovely Bones, doesn’t make my grandpa’s death a good thing, or at least not for those of us who mourn him and miss him, but it does bring me some comfort and joy, and I would imagine, or hope, if Allan is watching over us somehow, somewhere, that it would bring him some comfort and joy as well, knowing that something good has come from all of this. I think in some sense this is life after death, our lives after the deaths of those we love, the ‘lovely bones’ that can be built from the broken pieces of our lives or our hearts in the face of grief and loss, and while healing is of course no easy thing to find, and as Angie said to me today grief can be a deep well, and those holes or those wounds inside of us may remain as long as we live, still that doesn’t have to mean that healing can never be found, or that the well of grief is bottomless, or that those holes within us can’t somehow be filled or those wounds within us can’t somehow be mended, someday. But of course there is no guarantee of any of that in this life, and the pain of grief and loss will always remain, and even if it may get a littler easier overtime to cope with it or live with it, like a phantom in the background, the phantom of that person’s absence from our lives, it is never easy, and that is why I and so many of us who remain here in this world can’t help but hold out hope that death, as tragic and horrific as it may be, is not just an ending but is also a new beginning, and that when our own time comes to cross the veil, whatever, or whoever, we have lost will be found again. J.R.R. Tolkien, the author of The Lord Of The Rings, once wrote of what he called a ‘eucatastrophe’, which is like the opposite of a catastrophe, where something beautiful and wonderful unexpectedly happens, like Sauron being defeated and Middle-Earth being restored. He wrote: “The consolation of fairy-stories, the joy of the happy ending; or more correctly of the good catastrophe, the sudden joyous "turn" (for there is no true end to any fairy-tale): this joy, which is one of the things which fairy-stories can produce supremely well, is not essentially "escapist," nor "fugitive." In its fairy-tale -- or otherworld -- setting, it is a sudden and miraculous grace: never to be counted on to recur. It does not deny the existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.”     It is the hope of joy, joy beyond the walls of the world, this world in which we live or try to live now without those we loved who are no longer in this world with us (at least not that we can always see or tell) that we hold to, a joy that will answer our grief and wash it away as we find what or who we lost again and all is well. But until that day, let us try to keep building lovely bones around our loss in honor of those we’ve lost, while we wait on the shore of this earth for our turn to set sail to whatever lands those who go before us have gone to, and whenever we grieve let us also hope, always hope.