A write of passage…

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Writing is a bit like sailing. There are days that you’re coasting, the waters are calm and uneventful, but the life underneath appears as miracles do. Other times winds conjure travesty and all is now opaque, yet scandalously alive! Sometimes it feels like a rite of passage, as if, oh faithless one gather your tears, God has made it so. Believe and all is won, doubt and all is cherished. Writing is neither. For with each stroke the arrogance of pernicious truth finds the page, doubly entreating for the faint of heart lamenting as the ink dries and false idols appear.

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Life with Meraki

In his book In Other Words: A Language Lover’s Guide to the Most Intriguing Words Around the World, linguist Christopher J. Moore says: “This [meraki] is a word that modern Greeks often use to describe doing something with soul, creativity, or love — when you put “something of yourself” into what you’re doing, whatever it may be.” For a glimpse into the meaning of meraki that shall (I wept..of course) viscerally transpose you, I give you Tom Booker, the horse whisperer:

The Horse Whisperer

Tom is something of a recluse, though quietly invested, but uncompromising, driven you might say, in his focused commitment to his companions. What is it about the Tom Bookers of the world that moves us? It’s his presence. His spirit. His manner of being. There’s no extravagance. Nothing showy or grandiose about him. He’s purposive, without being directional. Communicative, mostly in words spoken in silence. It’s a language quite foreign to those of us unaccustomed, uncomfortable, with emptiness, confusing it as we do with that intrusive, annihilating void that leaves us feeling quite vulnerable. We say too much, and too often. Tom is a man of patience; but not of idle waiting. Agriculturalists know about this. They tend to their land, waking before dawn, working alone or alongside others in silent understanding; they have a deep respect for life – animal and plant life. They know nature has her own delicate plan that can’t be rushed, but only tamed into loving “submission”.

It is the same with his companions: these beauties. Pilgrim is not just a horse. And Tom doesn’t just bring technical expertise to the fore. He knows his craft, of that there is no doubt. But he does not just execute techniques known to any horse trainer. Indeed that which is unique to one of meraki is not so much the excellence with which one executes one’s craft, but the manner in which it is accomplished. We do not speak of just one who may be loving or care about horses (or whatever the object of one’s involvement may be), of course, since inherent to meraki is the love that evolves from that invested, truly anchored, and personalized cultivation of one’s craft. It grows as one’s immersed understanding of one’s craft evolves, and transforms one from that person who performs certain activities to a horse whisperer as such. Horse training then is not something one does, it is who one is.

Sometimes readers are baffled that this profound manner of being could be captured in setting a table or cooking a meal. But one does not just set a table. One anticipates one’s dinner companions, contemplating all that might bring the mood of being present to the table. One then sets out to find the right decorative ensemble to make the table, shops for all the ingredients wherever such markets might take you, selectively placing each item into the shopping cart. Every task leading to the finale – the cooked meal, served at the table – will be deliberatively and caringly performed and hence not executed with anxiety, nor with a sense of rush or extrinsic standards, nor still with the desire to please. No, what moves one of meraki is her devotion in a mode of care.

Annie, a successful, hyperactive and obsessively controlling mother is lost in the fury of activities that arrest time, robbing her as becomes apparent, from the possibility of anything meaningful. She’s rushed because she works towards deadlines, scripting her success against masterfully executing high standards for her craft. She’s that technician of virtues devoid of heart.

Unlike Annie, Tom possesses a pervasive simplicity. No extravagances. Mitsein: speaks to the authenticity of Being without mitigating circumstance and posturing.

Slow down. Let go. Be in the moment. In every moment.

Philosophical Confessions

I decided to rename my blog Philosophical Confessions in light of new formalized sensibilities informed by both experience and my philosophical propensities. My original motivation for this blog has not changed.

It is still:

Home to philosophical reflections on life issues. These will vary from philosophically dense scholarly-type papers, to quibbles, annotations, critiques, self-help guides, and problematics. It was the university, first as a student and later as a Professor of Philosophy, that was once home to my philosophical engagement with life issues. Initially this was an ideal forum for an interactive, passionate exchange of commonly entrenched concerns but as education came to suffer the ills of institutionalization more and more, and standardized policies replaced the creative, and biophilous dialectical flux that characterized the inter and intra-human exchange amongst practitioners of philosophy, this became an ever alienating experience. Yet the yearning for meaningful reflection has not waned and the practical application dating back to the Greeks has finally found new footing in Philosophical Counselling. Putting philosophy back on the streets and employing philosophical methods as a form of counselling constitute the two-tier structure of this blog. Negotiating the “truth” in all facets of life and living will be the driving force that both defines the parameters and implications of all philosophical reflections.

I am now enriched from years of  ‘agitation’ that has both deepened and contoured my philosophical preoccupations. Not unlike Socrates, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Simone de Beauvoir and even might I daringly add, Veronica Franco (16th-century Venetian courtesan and poet), seeking the truth, the mainstay of all philosophical ventures, is sought not somewhere aloof, rigidly outside, beyond, over-and-against, or cast off from its visceral incarnation.  For it is in how one lives one’s life that the truth is revealed. Writing brings truth to bear in a social domain which often goes amiss, creating havoc wherever misunderstanding perturbs interpretation. Confessionals add context; they are personalized moments in which the truth is disclosed or dislodged from the abundance that purveys life. Not then to be read like a map plotting life denotatively, but more like music rich in notational instructions which only properly comes to life when played …symphonically. I like to think of these confessionals as a symphony of sorts – however badly written, for I am no musician.

Landmarks!

 

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My son – Thomas

I have made no secret of how motherhood has given valour to those hegemonic values which with mutant offspring have shaped my orientation in life. No relationship has impressed such a keen sense of responsibility within that ever-so fragile context of love. I probably started out as a Kantian of sorts, and with dips and pulls into the aretic tradition, have made my way to a more existential-type predilection. Perhaps not unlike most mothers overburdened by a hyperbolic acceptance of psycho-sensitive paradigms, I was initially confounded by the depths and intense love I felt for my first born (and then as if anew, for my second born, Kalianna) which only made the sense of awe and wonder regarding my role as his mother all the more daunting! I could do irreparable damage despite the best intentions! OMG!!!! Breast-feeding? Yes!!! 10 points for doing that for 9 months! Sleeping through the night!?No number of hail Marys can compensate for the number of times exhausted and desperate Thomas would be welcomed to sleep in cozy comfort with mommy! Talking, engaging, reading to him/with him? Too much and he’ll never learn to be alone! Too little and stifle any chance for cultivating a love of learning! Crap! How much is too much? Did I spend too much time with my kids? My (ex) husband certainly thought I did! (he’s an ex after all!!! 😉 Actually, in truth he’s a wonderful father to those two!) He’d call my children “τα αυτοκολλητάκια μου” (loosely translates: my little stickers) to suggest how clingy he thought our relationship to be! Friends? School? Shy was he! So much strategizing to cultivate social skills, and self-confidence! And yet he never seemed to lack in self-esteem, but as teachers would say of him from as early as preschool, “Thomas is ultra-sensitive to his surroundings!” It wasn’t that he was hyper-sensitive, but very viscerally in tune with his surroundings, especially other people. Who knows, maybe this is what so early on in his development can explain his remarkable sense of justice and fair-play. His concern for the underdog, and the unfair, discriminatory treatment of others did not go unnoticed. Thomas has always been described as “a good kid”. For me, he was “the boy with a golden heart”. But what were we to say to him when the world, life experiences, didn’t quite match up with his moral ideals? Shrug our shoulders and say: “Suck it up kid, this is the real world!” or “The good guys finish last!” or “Be your own person and you shall shine!” or “Don’t worry about what everyone else is doing; you just be a good kid!” As he matured and these quandaries grew in complexity, life experiences seemed to take over and he became less and less inclined to discuss things as we’d been accustom to. Indeed, only Twitter seemed to match his intolerance of a word count exceeding 140 characters! OMG! We’ve failed him! But despite, or maybe in spite, of this and so much more, Thomas now 18 (well almost), is still in so many ways that shy, hyper-sensitive, caring, good and (from what we are told by professionals) exceptionally intelligent little boy! But he’s not just that either! His shyness, initially addressed as an “issue”, made him aware of the conditions of the human psyche that has in so many ways been the benchpress for some hard-won battles for the socially awkward and marginalized. Did sleeping in my bed, apparently that HUGE, unspeakable, no, no, warp his development? Did he become dependent? A mommy’s boy? Lacking in confidence? Nope! Actually, his versatility and strength has never ceased to amaze me! No, I mean it! Amazed me! Just when I thought he’d crumbled, he always seemed to become a little bit stronger, and little more confident. Indeed, Thomas is especially socially adept, and eager to get out there a claim a place in this world, and he doesn’t seem to want or enjoy it when it is too easily won! My existential entrapping? Perhaps?

So what of all of this, Pirocacos? The Landmark: Thomas got into university! This seems somehow a rite of passage. In an obvious way, it is his! The accomplishment speaks to a course of maturity where the last year demanded the cultivation of temperance, fortitude, and agility, and all in submission to or for a future quite uncertain, and one which he only vaguely even desired! This landmark, however, is my own! A time of reckoning symbolically tied up in his. It’s not so much that my work is done! Motherhood is for a life-time, and it is so in a way that no other relationship is. I think the words of Kahlil Gibran speak more loudly to me now than ever:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

(The Prophet, Children)

Such is to learn to love without expectation and without possession. For though parental narcissism seems to play a pivotal role in those first moments where we look to recognize ourselves in his teeny smile, demeanour, and idiosyncrasies that make him a little more my own, a little more endearing, a little more loved, it is unreconcilable with unconditional love and acceptance. For it is in learning to admire Thomas for the manner in which he uniquely delved into the awkward moments of life, frustrated efforts, and various crises of character and trauma sometimes caused by me, that I have ever so slowly (ya, I ain’t that smart! Meh…) learned to love authentically. It means to love with risk, risk of loss: for indeed our children must take some giant steps that may leave them existentially adrift from us. It means loving when he, in stark defiance, really is his own person, bearing no markings that speak of home. It means hoping that he look beyond you, for a sense of grounding, and meaningful fulfillment. It means to love from a distance when he no longer needs you.

Your Ataraxia is Disquieting3

Even amongst aretic thinkers as divergent as the Stoics and Epicureans, the linchpin to their philosophies is the pursuit of happiness. Where they differ is what happiness is, and hence the phronetic comportment to its achievement. Each in turn will speak to the virtues of the good life and their appropriation. Not at all unlike Nietzsche! Surprised? Well don’t get too excited before we knock down some artefacts of uncongenial thinking. Virtues are those of strength not humility, or weakness and the like, and the means of their appropriation are devised through a delicate but painful process of deconstruction, forcefully destructive, and aims not at happiness as any of these Greek philosophers imagined it. Instead the “happy life” is not one of “good sense”, but valorized, heroic conduct amidst all that is impenetrably unattainable. Wretched is that seductress ‘causality’ that would feign the life of happiness as one aimed to nullify externalities of no consequent or beyond our hailing hand. Such is it to confuse the cause with the effect, Nietzsche poignantly pointed out. It is not that a life, a good life, cannot withstand such annotations, but rather that having already been impoverished by the mechanization of life via nay sayers and the corruptors of life, that the virtues of humility and the like are adopted. The “original sin of reason” which is a case of the error of cause and effect is put to work to explain this phenomenon. Though this is the stranglehold of religious and moral paradigms, it is illustrated concisely in the example of Cornaro’s diet. Nietzsche says:

Screen Shot 2017-08-10 at 09.37.13It is not the diet, as assumed by Readership of Cornaro’s illustration, that is the cause of good health, but rather an underlying condition that caused or, otherwise, gave rise to the success of this diet, and hence the longevity of this man. The parallel to morality runs the usual aretic formula to the ground, whereby tis not the virtues that are understood to lead (cause) to the good life, but rather a degenerate state of being  – weak, compromised – that has caused, given rise to, the propagation of these virtues and hence the good life. Virtue is not the consequence of happiness, but ‘happiness’ the consequent of virtue. In his own words: “Instead, virtue [as it came to be construed] is itself that slowing down of the metabolism which among other things also brings a long life, numerous progeny, in short Cornarism in its wake.—The church and morality say: ‘a race, a people is destroyed by vice and extravagance.’ My restored reason says: if a people is destroyed, if it physiologically degenerates, then this is followed by vice and extravagance (i.e. the need for ever stronger and more frequent stimuli, familiar to every exhausted type). This young man grows prematurely pale and listless. His friends say: such and such an illness is to blame. I say: the fact that he fell ill, the fact that he could not withstand the illness, was already the consequence of an impoverished life, of hereditary exhaustion.” (Twilight of the Idols, The Four Great Errors – my italics).

In his Genealogy Nietzsche traces the origin of morality not in an attempt to get behind the contextual framework that is constitutive of all human understanding, but rather to identify those frameworks that have come to be constitutive of that very framework but which sneaked in, and were thereby ordained as the bestowers of life itself. They came to have a life of their own, not of the doing of humankind, but of some Omnipotent Power that deifies these; humankind is thereby tussled from her thrown and the Lord’s drones follow in her stead. It is now Goodness itself, or the verse of Nature herself, that define aspirations worthy of any man deserving of happiness.

Specifically, Nietzsche says of the Stoics, in Beyond Good and Evil:

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Taking a hammer to this paradigm of thinking, Nietzsche identifies the basic tenet of Stoicism in a longing to cement the good life in living according to Nature, as if there is a determined way and reliable manner in which to ascertain that way. Nietzsche rejects both the naturalism and the rationalism of the Stoics, as I have sketched above. He calls them ‘self-deluders” because they read their philosophy into an understanding of nature allowing themselves to be tyrannized through the oppression of the otherwise natural proclivity for power, by tailoring the passions for a life free of anything “unnecessarily” disquieting. Of course, the general accusation applies to all moralized paradigms which, he says, ‘as soon as ever a philosophy comes to believe in itself, it always creates the world in its own image’. Allowing oneself to rest content with any perspective of the world involves, in some shape or form, the deification or the objectification or ossification of that perspective as if it were to speak now and for always for all things! And yet, this is only to delude oneself that the world is how it has been shaped by the mind; and though everything is interpretation (beware those who sit in smug assurances of their perspective! 🙂 ) and hence there is no getting behind or before it, one can adopt an attitude of the diagnostician (for some reason “House” comes to mind both in his method and demeanour – “everybody lies” mostly, delusionally to themselves – looking at all perspectives, from multiple angles – psychological, symptomatic/physiological, social) who looks unnervingly, and unrelentingly from multiple perspectives searching for motives that huddle over pre-conceived perspectives, hammering away at assumptions, presuppositions, and everything that might cunningly conceal these from view (language, habits, fears, desires). The process is itself a state of unrest, of ataraxia, that requires courage for ‘in all desire for knowledge there is a drop of cruelty’.

So you say, “unhinge me”, Pirocacos! Stoics might retort that I have misconstrued and misrepresented the philosophy of their forefathers in that living a eudaimonic life free from unnecessary and irrational preoccupations does not speak to indifference, a rather inhumane attitude to invest in after all. It is rather in acknowledging the causal workings of the universe through attentive rational scrutiny that one is well positioned to deal with unrealized goals, negotiate misfortunes, and endure ensuing suffering. The point is that there is a rational order to the unfolding of Nature that one is well advised to address when engaged in the practice of living life. After all we do live in this natural world and it is constitutive of laws of nature (you wouldn’t cajole someone to jump from the 6th floor because it is the fastest route to the College cafe because you know that he’d meet with his death!) and causal forces that one can with varying degree of probability determine in order to better secure the ends. Of course, as I hope I have in outline already made clear, this is to miss the point.

So though the process of deconstruction may appear neurotic and outwardly in disarray, in fact, it is only so perceived by the ill-tempered with a mind to what is apprehended by ageless paradigms and/or those that one holds dear to their heart!

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Your Ataraxia is Disquieting2

So here I am already 4 days late attending to Epictetus’s Enchiridion and Nietzsche’s The Twilight of the Idols. Strangely I find solace in both these authors despite the contrariety of their underlying philosophies. Happiness, said Socrates, is the end of all human activity; no one would, as it were, ever pursue her own unhappiness. Indeed, this is what set him on his track to that all-too-unfortunate qua Nietzsche triadic arrangement: virtue=knowledge=happiness. For if Socrates is astute in this aforementioned assertion, then engaging in actions, and/or adopting beliefs, that run the pursuit of happiness aground cannot be performed in full cognizance. Knowing that causing harm to others inadvertently harms oneself and hence jeopardizes one’s own happiness, one would not betray, deceive, humiliate, rob, demoralize, exploit others. So members of the 30 Tyrants must assuredly have acted from ignorance, or at the very least involuntarily. A life of happiness would then be a life epistemically charged. Everything is riding on acquiring knowledge. But knowledge of what exactly? Well, knowledge of what it is to live a virtuous life dummie! 😉 Stoic philosophy would have no qualms embracing this general position. But in my estimation it is here that they part ways, for Socraticism (dare I call it that!) makes good use of the role of reason but to my knowledge this rests not in any attribution to the workings of the world or the natural order of things. Indeed, despite Nietzsche’s ad hominem attack on the man in The Problem of Socrates, his ambivalence, noted as early as Walter Kaufman’s 1974 seminal work Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist (Princeton University Press 1974), suggests at least the possibility of other features at work in this text. (FYI: In my book The Pedagogic Mission: An Engagement With Ancient Greek Philosophical Practices, much is said to distance Socrates from that monochromatic view of rational deliberative inquiry. Link here: https://rowman.com/ISBN/9780739126530/The-Pedagogic-Mission-An-Engagement-with-Ancient-Greek-Philosophical-Practices) I would submit that Nietzsche acknowledges in Socrates the spirit of the overman, albeit trapped by an unfortunate state of circumstance that would have him riding in on his white horse flagging reason as the great emancipator from the elusive hegemonic trail of false idols.

Socrates ennobilzed reason and thereby made a tyrant of her. She stepped in as if to nullify the power of the instincts that threaten to unhinge everything at its joints! What chaos! What disorder! What disharmony! What vicious self-annihilating force is this?! For once unleashed there is no limit to what the human spirit might discover!! Decadence everywhere! HA! Did the Socrateses and Platos think that they could just trot in and deliver humankind from herself and not thereby lose humanity in the process?!

Nietzsche says:fullsizeoutput_1111

 

“Happiness equals instinct”!? And yet everything we seem to now “know” of the Greeks – from Socrates to Plato, Plato to Aristotle, Aristotle to the Stoics – aims to expunge the instincts, and with reason as our guide, arrive at a proper understanding of “things” and a will unhampered by the seductiveness of the passions to frame that eudaimonic life we all aspire to!

Nietzsche, the agitator of reason, was not also unreasonable, nor irrational as such. He resented Socrates, or perhaps this ill-framed variety of Socraticism (which he too in part is responsible for popularizing), for exaggeration. For Nietzsche defamed Socrates not only for his aesthetic profanity (so ugly was he, that he was an insult to the good taste of the gods! :)) but for levelling humankind in the service of that counter-tyrant, reason. He says of Socrates:

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My Twitter handle is no accident – gignolatry – and hence my opposition to ontolatry is real ( 😉 ). In Reason in Philosophy, Nietzsche is emphatic and decorative in his descriptors of ontolatries. He says:

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‘Being is that empty fiction’, which even Heraclitus, knew too well was the imposition of the mind on what was evinced rawly by the senses. The fable of the essentialists comes in four basic propositions. Now I won’t be able to elaborate these here, for each requires special attention to distinct parts of his philosophy, but enough can be said to counter the Epictetean position with which I began. So what are these propositions? Here they are from the man himself:

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Plato with utmost clarity (well maybe not that clear!) has distinguished the Sensible World from the Intelligible World, and though numerous arguments are offered, a couple are well known and clearly on Nietzsche’s mind. The sensible world is one with which we are acquainted through our senses, and since the objects of this world are changing and ephemeral, it stands to reason ( 😉 ) that these appearances cannot tell us how it is to truly be a chair, or doorknob or anything else. After all, the colour, distinct markings, spatial-temporal locale, are particular to a “thing” but not to its kind. Hence, it follows, that these items do not speak to how things themselves are, but only to accidental occurrences or contingencies. But it is equally true that sensory perception is prone to run wildly off course given the attachment of the ear, of the eyes, of touch to circumstance, to the particular, itself also unshielded from common error (e.g. an item seen from afar looks small until seen up close). So what happens to the world of things upon exit? Plato (and others) would contend evaporation! Poof, they disappear! Quite literally, the “characteristics that have been given to the true Being of things are of non-Being”. Namely, these characteristics don’t exist, are not to be found anywhere, and hence essentially ( 😉 ) are concocted from the imagination of man! A fable worth telling again and again for care of human endeavors that might cash in on aspiring to live for a world uninhibited by ephemeral preoccupations and fleeting (HA!) objects of hedonic value.

A world concocted is a world that simply does not exist, and tis a fable told to suppress and contain the human spirit unadulterated by confusions interspersed by impositions of the mind. And yet, Nietzsche, often misunderstood, does not address the instincts as wildly out of control, drawn indiscriminately in any direction as a dog is to a bitch in heat! NO! Nietzsche speaks to how one might “spiritualize, beautify, deify a desire”. Though this is a complex notion, it is at least clear that Nietzsche equates the castration of the passions with nay-sayers of life, and the beatification of the passions with the affirmation of life. For Nietzsche says:

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Nietzsche does not take sides with crude displays of affection, or aggression (as he is often criticized for), but favours the beautification of the passions! This comes not from the objects themselves, of course. Recall, there are no facts, things out there to be apprehended in themselves! It is rather in the delicate nurturing, inter-personalized engagement with, and invested concern for the passions that beauty is brought forth so that in screams of contained rapture one can appreciate, say, Wagner’s Ring Cycle, in silent discourse.

So what is his meaning and how does this set the record straight with Epictetus? Another timeout for Pirocacos as she gets her unhinged self together….to be continued…I promise!

*Alas I am convinced that philosophy, the variety I engage (for there are many forms), is an art form, itself best transcribed literarily, musically, poetically!

Mother’s Day

On Children
 Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Motherhood: the single most fulfilling and accomplished part of my life. I will make no apologies to feminists for how beholden I am to my children – Thomas & Kalianna – who have made me richer by far. There is no time in my life as precious as those days from early infancy spent with you two. Still today women find themselves, perhaps in some ways more so than before, in that impossible position where they must choose between a career, great love, financial independence and motherhood. Often the factical will not bend to compromise, and it is as dramatic as choosing either/or and not both/and! Hands down I have always, despite painful loss, unhesitatingly chosen these two treasures. As I have said elsewhere: my children are feisty, strong-willed, and spirited, but they are also distinctively amazing young adults who each in their own way have evolved into caring, passionately driven by fortitude to fulfill their aretic virtues. I am blessed. But there are others who have been wonderful, committed, loving and supportive mothers and things have nonetheless gone tragically wrong. Gibran’s words speak mightily to all parents: our children are not our children! We are beings-alongside our children and in early life care-givers but never are we, nor should we aspire to be, care-takers. Alas they must forge their way through life on their own ultimate initiative and all we can do is pray that they will not run afar from their own happiness (eudaimonia).

She Died Today

She died today but no one noticed

Her airy personality like a drone hovered

They came and took her body

Bagged her, and threw her onto her transporter

But she remained the same

 

She died today but no one noticed

Words like bricks bruised precious egos

And ravenous retorts dug her grave

But before her final departure waved a virtual adieu

 

She died today but no one noticed

Listen…those who despair…

A Little Privacy, Please?!

quote-all-conditioning-aims-at-that-making-people-like-their-inescapable-social-destiny-aldous-huxley-312195Some people like to tag every moment of their lives – eating, running, sleeping, goofing off, cooking, watching…something… or walking ….through the house…now it’s on the street…nope, catchup….we’re in the yard now….hahahahaha, gotcha, we’re in the forest…beach, now…hurry up, we’re already on the train!!! I’ll confess to being secretly curious over how they pull this off…who is ever there to suspend all those moments and capture them!!?? I always get this sense that God is omnipresent to them, snapping pics as they go as if to document a precious life that may appear as the Second Coming! 🙂 But not everyone is as public about their private lives. Here’s the testimonial of a young woman  who expresses her sense of discomfort over pictures shared on the internet (see here: http://www.gurl.com/2013/05/10/take-down-facebook-pictures-online/). In her own words:

The big thing was that I just felt that they didn’t show “me” the way I worked to convey myself to people. They were old pictures and I was a very different person and I didn’t like these lingering photos making me feel kind of uncomfortable. I just didn’t want them living online.

Now, this is a friend of mine I hadn’t talked to in a couple of years. These pictures were maybe like five or six years old. And yet, I wrote this whole long message about how I would really appreciate if she took down those pictures of me, even though they were untagged. It made me uncomfortable knowing that they existed and I didn’t have final “approval” over them, mainly because they were from so long ago.

My friend was totally sweet about it and took them down. However, it’s probably worth nothing that this is not the first time that I have done this. That’s what is making me worry that I have a tendency to overreact to these pictures that probably to other people don’t seem like a big deal at all. How much control can I have over other people when it comes to their pictures… that happen to have me in them?

It’s unnerving to me that she should be made to feel excessive, over-the-top, hyper-sensitive…take your pick. I have experienced this first hand myself, and truth be told I was not quite as lucky as this young woman. I recall the first time that my very polite request was met with hostility – I believe she said something like: you shouldn’t be in the damn picture if you don’t want people to see it! Interesting assumption! If you’re in a pic expect that it will be uploaded for the world to see. ASTONISHING! She did take it down; but since then I had become more cautious about people snapping pics with their iPhones. Again isn’t this getting things the wrong way around? Should one be mindful of how others invasively snap and post pictures of them; or should one be permitted the luxury to walk this earth without running the risk of being exposed?

Another point that I relate to is how one’s public persona is an outward expression of self. Seen in this light I think it not too outrageous that how and with whom one is depicted can be an issue. And this is not to say that a picture reveals sensitive information, or is somehow untoward, but that it simply does not speak to one’s sense of self, and thereby makes one feel invaded, violated, trampled upon, alienated. Is it too much to ask that a picture that is from days past be removed because it is now the source of embarrassment? Again, there is no outwardly obvious infraction. It is a personalized invested sense of self of which I speak. I can’t know what people have in their minds that are determined to remain silent and yet gleefully in control of your face-online; I can’t know if there are secret agendas, ego-plays, double and triple narratival scenes, regret, impotence, or even an inverted sense of care. All I know, all any of us ever know, is what is made plain to see. And isn’t that the point: where there is no engagement and clarity of spirit, we are all only the sum of our internet parts! 😦

*Though the Huxley quote may seem extreme in this context, it may prove to be hypo-sensitive to the underlying gravity of this scenario.*

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