Skip to content

Tag: communication

Expecting Different Results

Krishnamurti once said that it was no great achievement to appear sane and well-adjusted in an insane world. In these interesting times, that’s an idea that resonates with me on several levels.

First of all, it calls into question what we individually, and as a society, consider socially acceptable and non-destructive behavior. Let’s abandon the idea of national standards at this point – because face it, there are not only differing ideas on this subject among the salad bowl of cultures, ethnicities, races, religions, and political persuasions that are tossed together in the Great American Salad, but there are numberless regional varieties across and within each sovereign state. Add to that the idea that how each generation defines what does and doesn’t quality as weird, strange, or aberrant behavior, and you’ll see there’s no real way to come up with a consistent and mutually acceptable definition of terms. And that’s just a very small section of the Americas.

Bureaucratically speaking, normal and sane are the standards by which solid hierarchies are built. Individuals who can sit still, be silent, and be generally agreeable are valued building blocks of successful societies. We praise the artistic, creative, inventive, eccentric, and otherwise abnormal among us, but we don’t really want them among us, living next door, teaching our children, pastoring our flocks, or challenging our status quo. It’s one thing to insist that your child take a few years of piano lessons. That can be useful at cocktail parties. It’s quite another to encourage them to use that skill as a basis for eking out a meager living accompanying television soap operas. Western civilizations, in particular, with the exception of maybe the Celtic, have always looked at the arts as an occupation for the lower classes. Even the Celts, to be honest, seemed to value warriors who could march into battle with visible erections a little higher than they celebrated the average lute player.

It’s been said, however, that Western civilization has been very good at passing from generation to generation the means and technology by which things are done but has not done so well at communicating from parent to child the reasons why it is important to do them in the first place. Society reconstruction projects, like modern Druidry and Witchcraft, as well as a lot of intentional communities of other kinds, seem to if not recognize, at least suffer from, these problems. It’s great to learn and emulate modern anthropologists’ interpretations of rituals with no surviving actual original participants, complete with ancient languages no living person still speaks, and imagine that makes you a Druid. It’s an illusion, of course. Unless you really understand the purpose for an original ritual, and the reasons still exist in that same form in modern day, AND the symbols and language have some current meaning and application, taking a sickle of gold to trim the mistletoe from an oak tree in City Park isn’t really much use. Of course, human beings will always need rituals. But we need our own celebrations, justifications, and recognitions, not someone else’s. If we don’t find our own ways, and find them meaningful in our own time, we’re no different from an SCA group that imagines themselves all reincarnated from royalty, or a vodoun group speaking in French Creole even though they’re all third generation Russian Jews.

But who’s to say what is “sane” and what isn’t? Whatever floats your boat, right? If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad. In an ideal world, maybe some of that works. But in a reality where your right to swing your fist ends at my nose, the restrictive nature of cooperative behavior can stifle even the most unbalanced responses.

Besides, given the nature of generational shifts, the constant pendulum swing between Apollonian and Dionysian ideals, chances are, as Batman learned, if you survive as a hero long enough you will be painted a villain. The world is impermanent, as is everything in it. You, me, ethical standards, philosophies, even gods and demons have expiration dates. Most ideas are a mere generation from extinction. If we don’t find a way to communicate with our children, then our way of looking at the world is gone when our brief candle flames are extinguished. And we spend so much time, like our parents and their parents before them, worrying that our children have no sense, no morality, and no direction. But we never look in the mirror to figure out why that is. It’s much easier to blame the devil than take responsibility for our own lack of evolution.

If Johnny can’t read, it’s because we didn’t show him how wonderful it can be to lose yourself in a book. If our child is distant, angry, resentful, and bitter, remember it doesn’t matter what you say to an apple, it cannot fall too far from the tree.

And who are we to judge the sanity of anyone else? Do we really have our act together? Would a jury of our peers – if we could actually find one – agree with that verdict?

Besides, as Seal put it, “We’re never gonna survive unless we go a little crazy. “

Buckle up, buttercup. At least you’re not along on this ride.

15 APR 2025

Leave a Comment

Talking Loud is Saying Nothing

When you start writing about your life, who are you writing for? Who is your audience? It takes a certain amount of conceit to believe that anyone is or will ever be interested, of course, but say we’re past that hurdle. Who is reading this now?  I know a whole lot of people, having had human encounters now for 60 years. But we may have never met in the flesh. I may not know your name or what you look like. And your only experience of me may be through these words, or through words or images you’ve seen elsewhere that take some sort of stab at describing me or my actions in this life.

But RD Laing suggested that’s really all we have anyway. Our experience of each other – not any kind of deep knowing or grokking, but a projection of ourselves that like the filter of a historian colors whatever I see of you to be whatever I think you most likely should be. We are impressionists, not photo-realists. To be honest, most of us haven’t even developed any skill at all with brushes or other artistic implements, and are busy dirtying our hands with paint on recycled construction paper. We look to philosophers to be our abstract expressionists. We stand in front of their works and nod our heads knowingly, but all the while are really confused as to what is being communicated. Because, of course, communication can only occur between equals. Between parties that consider the other party a useful equivalent to themselves. When we really talk, it’s to ourselves.

Interestingly enough, that conversation can actually be useful. When the student is ready, the teacher appears. It may also be true that when the teacher is ready, students appear. Everything is just one end of a stick. Everything else is the other end. There is no cause without an effect, nor effect without a cause. As I’ve said before, it’s turtles, all the way down.

The nice thing about talking to yourself is that you’ve got a captive audience. No matter how you try, it may be possible to dull the sound, or temporarily hit the mute button, but ultimately, because the sound of your own voice is created first instead your head before it hits your vocal chords, you can’t turn off the endless stream of chatter you provide yourself on a daily basis. Honestly, even listening to the void, or emptiness, or Nothingness, is still using your brain to kick-start something.

 So maybe everything we write is just an extension of that self-talk. We throw our thoughts on paper just to prove to ourselves that we have them in the first place. The only thing we actually have of ourselves, if you consider the Buddhist idea that we’re just temporary aggregates anyway, with no permanent or abiding substance, is our experience of ourselves. It’s not, as Descartes put it, that “I think, therefore I am.” It’s that we are what we think we are, and nothing more. Once we stop thinking about it, that sense of separate identity, individual essence, isolation, smallness, and independence slips away. Form is nothingness. Nothingness is form. It’s not that we realize our connectedness or interdependence, either. Those words and concepts become meaningless, irrelevant. Remember, it’s two ends of the same stick. And there’s no stick.

Rumi said, “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right-doing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase each other doesn’t make any sense.”

But a true conversation with our self is beyond even that field. There are no words or sounds or even vibrations. Just the ghosts of who we thought we were once, communicating via osmosis to projection of who we think we are now, translated by who will believe we will someday become.

02 APR 2025

Leave a Comment

The Oxymoron of Social Media

Social media: the name implies communication (defined by me as an exchange of ideas only possible between individuals who consider themselves equals) yet most of us seem to use it exclusively to sell ourselves – our products, our services, our ideas. There is neither space (i.e., post limits) or time (i.e., lifespan of the average post) to conduct in-depth meaningful exchange, and the medium itself gives us the illusion but not reality of personal interaction, if only due to its inability to effectively transmit sarcasm, irony, humor, or any other subtlety. It is as a result the drink that temporarily sates, but does not satisfy. If it refills our “social” meter (to use a concept from the SIMS), it does so only vaguely, like a sugar or caffeine high that leaves us more tired and alone than before we indulged.

The media is indeed the message: Keep your thoughts brief, your repartee sharp and lightning fast. Use emoticons to reduce a wide range of human emotions to a small set of easily recognized and irritatingly vague options that transcend the need to maintain (or even develop) language skills at all. Show solidarity by sharing – but not by sharing reasoned, thought-out, and well-spoken dialogue between equals (see “communication”, above), but by changing your screen icons to the same colors.

These all-too-public gatherings are not water cooler conversations (at worst) or coffee shop klatches (at best). They are sound bytes that convince us we’re watching the same movie – and each hearing excerpts of an assumed larger and shared soundtrack to our lives. This assumption gives us “brotherhood” without commitment, “sharing” without sacrifice, “community” without neighbors, “friends” without relationship.

How does that work, exactly?

Leave a Comment

Farewell to Facebook

I think I will 1) stop writing and reading on FB altogether, and only post to it from my blog, 2) communicate directly with people I wish to interact with, and 3) acknowledge that written messages between persons without shared understanding of the other’s intent are almost always misinterpreted, particular when one party is trying to inject levity into a subject the other takes very seriously. Point is that everyone on FB takes themselves too seriously, and really doesn’t laugh at anything unless it’s at someone else’s, and certainly not their own, expense. But then again, in this world some things aren’t funny anymore. And in some cases, they never were. THAT to me is the problem with people who despise political correctness – they no longer have the option to feel superior at someone else’s expense, but must rely on their own merit for self-respect. Of course there are exceptions, and it is not possible to legislate good taste, compassion, consideration or respect. Therein lies the dilemma: getting along, and coexisting, is up to each of us, individually. Anytime you create a “we”, you’ve built a wall.

Leave a Comment

Somnambulism in the Rain

Conducting one’s life outside the immediacy of meatspace is ALMOST as exhausting as if one had to actually physically travel to conduct conversations with one’s geographically far-flung “friends” in the flesh. I’m so tired of the forced interaction and the need to constantly be entertaining, provocative or at the very least annoying – but once you remove sensation, disruption, shock and awe and the whole Sturm und Drang from virtual reality, all you have left is ennui, disconnection, general malaise and overall pathetic disinterest (both incoming and outgoing). They say, or at least they used to, that to be “interesting” you need to be “interested”. Well, I just can’t dredge up that kind of enthusiasm when I know that the minute I myself border on the every day, average and non-controversial, all those “listeners” out there in that land will with a quick carpel-tunnel click be on to the next car crash, celebrity rehab, political faux pas, Freudian slip or meme misquote. Honestly? Is maintaining a daily conversation with the world necessary or even possible? How urgent do our lives need to be? How important ARE we, anyway?

Leave a Comment

I don’t believe that we have met

I don’t believe that we have met,
and yet, you know my name
and act as if you know me well,
at least enough to speak
informally, as if to say
what protocol exists
you can brush quickly to the side
without a second thought.

I don’t believe that we have met;
I surely would recall
the way in which you take control
and seem to think it right
that those around you should pretend
your mastery extends
to every subject known to man
(at least those worth the time).

I don’t believe that we have met,
and yet, it seems to me
that there is, just in your approach,
the taste and smell of death:
a shadow cast around yourself
inside which none dare go,
a graveyard for outside ideas
beyond your status quo.

I don’t believe that we have met,
for I don’t know your name;
although you act as thought I should
consider you a friend.
I wonder just how many souls
surrender to your charm;
and how we managed to survive
until you came along.

I don’t believe that we have met,
and yet, you seem to claim
some hold on me and on my thoughts.
You know my history,
but bluffed your way through study hall
and did not comprehend
that just because you think it,
does not really make it so.

17 APR 2013

Leave a Comment

Speech Between the Fallen – a cywyyd deuair hyrion

Must I explain it once more?

Try hard to fight the boredom
that most likely will ensue
the moment you think useless
any viewpoint but your own,
and on your cragged and stony
field, let germinate a seed
of mine. I am not pleading
with you; I have friends enough
without you: fine and tougher
allies than you’ll ever make,
trees that strong winds have shaken
but whose roots remain well sunk.

This no rambling, drunken
speech from one who laughs too loud;
nor cryptic verse of clouded
rhyme enmeshed with metaphor.

I’ve said it now so poorly
that it makes no sense at all.

How low we both have fallen!

10 Dec 2012

Leave a Comment