Tag Archives: human beings

A Night of Wild Emotions

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Last night, I became depressed about my response to a red coat and purple-dyed bangs.  I felt like the loser of a hundred things.  Walking into a room, full of people, lights, and voices of talk, I brought the twilight.  To be very accurate, I brought the twilight zone.  It is the oddness of the difference, and on this day, I knew I was different.  I am accepting of difference, like a lot of people, but, also like a lot of people, I abhor rudeness, mean-ness, and just general, all-around attempts to put people in their place.  Everyone is born free, and everyone deserves equal opportunity.  So, on a day facing East, I became an outsider of my own making.  Just to keep the verbiage to a minimum, the issue that became the making of my depression was a momentary mean-ness I had for a fellow human being.  So, the euphemism is that I called her a lesbian–a dyke.  Like “niggard,” dyke is a loaded word.  To a more daring person, this becomes a challenge to prove the mettle of the word.  What is the accuracy; when facing the person, and when calling them something derogatory, in front of their face and in front of the world, is everything accurate and in the place it should be?

So, because I was mean… to be very accurate, because I purposely chose someone of a size who could not defend herself against my use of a derogatory word, I publicly humiliated myself–for not being myself… for not being the leader and the leading example.  So, last night, I lost.  My voice carries, so, I am sure the world (everyone in the room) heard the resounding crack of the fissure in the floor we were standing on.  The fissure has now become a wide chasm of limitless depth, much like an abyss.  We are standing on either side, not knowing what to do now.  We stare warily at each other, and, at the others who have gathered around, either to spectate or to become a player, a supporter.

I have hopes for a good ending.  Even if these are people we will have fleeting connection to, or some real tenuous relationship with.  It is good to have a phone book filled with acquaintances rather than a Facebook of hundreds.  I am imagining what this “good ending” will be.  Will it be about making amends, where things are patched?  But, which is obvious, the patch is just unsightly… ugly…  glaring.  The poor emotional responses live on this case, where the hurt feelings continue in life unabated.  Or, is a “good ending” more?  …  Something closer to “making amends” rather than just “patching” and “repairing?”  Can I offer an olive branch, as a sign of hope for a wellness?  That we, me and the person I so offended, can feel free to live on.

So, these are the two endings that are possible, given the fact that as a human being, I cannot, no matter how much I may think, that I can find ways of proving the points that the differences between human beings makes us, or, myself, better than other types of human beings.  I can probably cite multiple examples of those people who earn more money, or, are more creative, or, have easier times finding things, or, those, who, like the ads say, are just plain luckier–all the time.

These are just types of people.  And, I have had friends from even more different places than these four, roughly-drawn examples of places people come from.  I usually am very good with people, as socially, I’ve been gifted with word-power.  So, usually, I get along.  So, just “losing it” last night, I have confused myself.  I have worried about it all day, and now, I am rushing to type out this, my apology, as I do not like the feeling of guilt.  It is as if I have the devil’s blood coursing through my veins, and, unlike human blood, it burns.  It burns its way through my body, and my thought is of the wrong and the guilt.

So, I am publicly telling, and saying, to the person I wronged, “I am sorry.  Please accept my apology, as it is sincere and comes from a place of knowledge and experience.”  I may be very educated and capable of many things, but, still, I have those moments, those momentary mean thoughts swirling in a mess.

Beauty Is Real

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Is something real, beautiful, or is something put into words beautiful?  I keep looking at the building construction outside my office window, and I keep seeing beauty in the materials, the strength in the colors of the cement and the wood and the steel.  Sometimes the rhythm of nail drivers, sometimes hammers, and even shouts of men’s voices and the crash of the things thrown, have a beauty that is heard.  The saw and the hum of the crane and the bull dozers is constant, like the many voices in unison can be heard, but not the words.

This scene is most welcoming, and almost soothing, in the morning after an hour commute.  Something human is constructive.  With a long day ahead, it is reassuring to believe it will work, that the frustration common in work is always happening, but things will be greater than this–especially the sounds continuing towards the establishment of something new–or even just a new building.

So, is the world filled with useless work?  Is some of this work needless, and wasteful?  Is the only goal to do something every day that you can do?  Or should your job verge, always, on the pleasurable?  Is it important that you be loved, or loved for your role, your position, your job?  If you have no money to spend on your home, do you still have a home?

In utopia, there is no money.  Only endless jobs to do, and therefore continually, and endlessly, make the universe work.  There is no demotions and promotions, related to money, but just achievement, the goal, since this is what makes people happy and proud.  At this point I think of my mother’s home.  For decades now, she has kept a special list, titled, “A Happy Home Recipe.”  It mentions things like love, loyalty, forgiveness and friendship, plus another four that deal with others helping you out, hope, tenderness, faith, and laughter.  For the longest time, I felt this was the most perfect, more beautiful thing of all.  The way I felt as if I were  being hugged, and loved.  I have no memory of being with my mother on a shopping trip to particularly buy this plaque, and I think, this is why I don’t associate its message with money.  I still think of it when I visit my mother.

Now, back to beauty.  Are beautiful things the only things that are real?  To take a thought experiment to the extreme end, the foible of human beings is to assume that beautiful things are naturally rich, and better, and easier.  Take all the glam and money in Las Vegas….  The stores there only have things that can be bought with a mortgage, and it is assumed that if you go to Vegas, you have some money to spend, or invest.  I have been there, and I do admit that my thoughts tend to run on and I see fountains running and spraying with coins rather than water.  It is like money can make the impossible happen.  Is it beautiful?  Is it even real?

Sometimes, I wish for more privacy than the hordes in Las Vegas can give me when I am on a trip or vacation.  The idea, I think, is that crowds there, fill the void common in any city or town.  It is along “the strip” that I am thinking.  In any other city, at a place of beauty, there is no sense of abandon.  That people are carefree and laughing, and not thinking of the priorities that need to be done by next week.  The “strip” is teeming with hordes of people, especially the young and rich, who exude this energy.  There is no rush, no hurry.  Only pleasure and enjoyment.  And, yes, lots and lots of money.  For most people any other trip or vacation cannot rival the wealth and riches of Las Vegas.  The non-stop flow of money in and out.  Taking a cruise to somewhere comes close, though.

So, in my thoughts, I am guessing that beauty is not limited to “real” things.  Every day, I draw breath, at the small things that happen.  The brown hare in our backyard.  The call of the infrequent owl at night when I have opened my window.  The construction sit that builds and moves slowly, by increments, like watching a stop-action camera become conscious and produce a film over months.  I love the first snowfall.  So delicate, and light, as if the snow is the real color of transparency.  I love the beauty of the old parts of town, where artisans have set up shop, creating and selling wares, of beauty and imagination.

I am looking forward to surprising my children to a two week vacation in December, for the Christmas Holidays.  Filling their days with some warm sunshine, and, hopefully, a sense of carefree joy.  To suddenly, one year have a Christmas away from snow, and attending too many get-togethers and parties.  I am sure where we are going, there will be a “Midnight Christmas Party.”

I Think Therefore I Am

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I am wondering what sense it is making when you say, “I think, therefore I am.”  I am not sure if it is as much as a definition of being human as much as it is a definition of life.  If you watch your dog sniffing, scratching, digging, and, of course, excitedly greeting you with licks from his tongue, violently-wagging tail, and even barking to get your un-divided attention, there is no other explanation other than that he is thinking.  Cats are even more complex.  They are cats when they leave you at any time, going to find someplace to sleep, or, when they are loose, they become like wild animals, running from sounds and other people–frightened, of who knows what.  Then, as they like, they will seek your attention, and purr, satisfied, when it is given to them.

And, I continue to think.  Even plants–unable to move or make sound–almost seem to have the ability to think.  All plants and trees grow upwards, towards the sun.  So, if they are nearby a window, in the house, they will lean, from the pot, towards the sunlight.  If you play the plants music, or even talk to the plant, they will flourish, and grow with amazing, miracle-like, speed and health.  The thing with plants and trees is that they have no real ability to defend themselves.  So, unable to cling to life, they are at the mercy of the more able.

So, is being smarter, a more accurate definition of being human?

Really, is being smarter only useful in taking tests and trying to get the score of 100%?  Is happiness made of brains?  I can  only guess that cat and dog are both happy animals.  And that human beings, being more dominant, and smarter, perhaps the word is complex–Are we smarter or dumber?  The thing with us is that we both create happiness and sorrow, both from being smarter and dumber too.

Is there any such thing as living a perfect life?  Like a pitcher in baseball, who can pitch a full game, without one hit nor base run, can we also live a perfect life?  Perfect, being 100%.  Perfect, being happy with whatever it is you have, even if it is not perfect.  Have any of us ever seen an unhappy dog?  An unhappy cat?  Do all we do, with a dying and dead plant, is put it into the recycling–the green compost?  Are we happier, because we know what to do?

As summer vacation is coming to being half over, I think of the plans that I had at the beginning, and how everything happened differently.  Even I, cannot predict, with all my thought and experience, the things I plan for.  Things start somewhere, and I remember these starts again, and again, and I tell myself and my kids that soon, yes, we will do everything soon.

So, happily, I am going to try to get out into the sun, with sunscreen, and try to just soak up the warmth that doesn’t happen in the winter.  I cherish such beautiful days.  And I remember that happiness sometimes is just the sun rising and setting and the moon at night.

Beauty

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Is beauty all given to youth?  Is it that the only people, and animals, perhaps, that are beautiful, are the young ones?  The beautiful ones, who exhibit, display, or create youth?  Can an old shriveled up grape, its skin wrinkled around a hard flesh, itself around a hard seed, be considered beautiful?  What sort of lighting and lens work would be needed to create the sparkle in this desiccated grape?  Is it because we know the grape at this stage, is nothing, but fibre and inedible pit?

Is even a photogenic old man, with full head of white hair, a slow gait helped along with a carried cane, and dressed in patent brown leather shoes and houndstooth jacket and pants, a sight of beauty?  Is being like this, a sign of health, or a sign of wealth… or, perhaps, a sign of wisdom and knowledge which makes a sight of this old man beautiful?  Is it his cleanliness?  Is it the fact that the clothes look familiar?  A man of strength and girth, and courage, and education, perhaps?  Or am I rating the clothing?  Is this old man beautiful because he has retired, or is it because  memories like this are kept in our minds from the time when we were young children growing up?

So, is beauty, something inside our heads?  We gather from  experience our collective knowledge or what we want to be beautiful.  Is that famous man, Hugh Hefner of the Playboy Mansion, still so virile because of the house-robe he wears in all his interviews?  Is he beautiful, for being daring, and always suggestive of sexuality, which is the domain of young, beautiful, virile, bodies, or because of his status as The Playboy who built Playboy Mansion?  This may be a tough question to ask and to answer, but it takes us one step closer to accepting… and maybe deciphering, the idea of beauty.

I have a definition in my head from one of my professors who spends his time trying to “type” human beings for a living, and it is a very good living, too.  It will take some thought, but one of the most eye-opening theories of human behavior is revealed in the simple definition of garbage.  Garbage, is actually something that does not belong where it is.  For instance, in a garden, we will plant flowers and trees and bushes.  But we always put in all our effort to dig up the weeds, and sometimes we will risk serious disease by using chemical weed killer.  And, for anything that has no more use or has expired, we will discard.

This brings me to why I have a little box, of wood, that I keep the bits of jewelry that I have been given to me by people in my  life.  The very first piece, a bracelet, is still in this box.  I can remember that it was summer, close to my birthday, and my mother had the box with the charm bracelet inside.  She was notorious for giving birthday presents early.  And I, immediately fell in love with it as soon as I opened the box and saw it.  I remember, being so young, looking up, and sparkly-eyed, at my mother.  I said something, like “Wow.  It’s so pretty.  Thank you.” And, to me, this bracelet and the box it is in, are young.  When I think of this box, and when I take this box out, and when I talk about this box, I am young….  That age of a child who has shiny blond hair, carefree, and able, surrounded by love and feeling free to give kisses to demonstrate that I have love to give.

So, from the examples of these five suggestions of beauty, I have a good idea of beauty.  It is most importantly, what we know to be beautiful.  Myself, I go scourging throughout flea markets, and exhibitions, looking for those things that are beautiful.  I will even pay one hundred dollars for a very small thing.  The first moment is always my most treasured thought of the thing I buy.  And, in a way, I find myself addicted to this behavior as something to fill space, to fill color, and to fill accountable time.  It is probably one of the healthiest things I do.  Eating charred meat off the bar-b-que is one the worst habits for my health.

Tomorrow, long after I will have published this to the web, I will start filling my date book with things that I need to do, with things that I have to do, and with things that will be filled in pencil that perhaps I will need to do.  And I do this every week, sometimes, with many deadlines, I will do it daily.  And in these in-between spaces of time, I look forward to finding beauty again.

Her Fearful Symmetry

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The first time I saw beauty in the most fearful place, I held my gaze and could only turn away when I started to breathe again, my shallow breath only allowed in when my muscles around my chest and neck could work once again.  I took a deep swallow, and asked an odd question, “Why is there two of that girl?”

Identical people puzzle me.  They look like each other, and often tail each other closely, starting and finishing each other’s word to the complete agreement of each other.  They dress in the same dress, and for some reason become completely lost and awol when the other disappears.  They tail each other from the time they are born to the time they pass on.  They are completely famous without the fame.  In public, people recognize their existence, albeit, only from the point of view of being in the presence of two beautiful and exceptional people, but they are recognized.  It seems, twins, and being a twin, makes for interesting gossip and talk and fulfills the need in some people to have confirmation of the extra-ordinariness of life. The very bodily existence of twins is very strong and loud evidence of life.  It is confirmation without true proof as to what life is.  Is it a brain?  Is it the beauty of models’ bodies?  Is it the strength and accuracy of athlete’s muscles?  Is it our ability to talk?  Our ability to create fictions, and stories and plan for the future? Is it our ability to create and rate and fall in love?  Do we create love?  And if so, do we create life?  Is life and love a very spontaneous accident?  Or is there a scientific method and law as to how it all happens?

I am looking at a conversation that two people are having.  One of them keeps insisting that twins are better off than all other kinds of human beings.  To have a bond that never breaks because there is nothing that is the match of that bond….  no words, no actions, no ideas, no love…  This is a very deep thing to say and think!  That being a twin for life literally means neither will ever be alone, even if one passes on, or if they find someone to marry, the twins to each other are never truly alone.  They would share that love as well!

I imagine this situation, the one in the overheard conversation….  To say that if I am in trouble, that there will be someone who will be there to save me…..  This, too, is very deep…  Any girl would like to be in this situation!  To have security forever!  I imagine this situation, and I think, I would be very satisfied!  Perhaps, twins are better off than any other type of human being!

Unfortunately, I was not born a twin.  I am single, and I am this way for my entire life.  I have learned to live with this “difficulty” in a way that makes me more willing to try my luck and to try to make friends, even in an unlikely situation.  I am often in a lonely job, as writers tend to have to do their work in isolation, and in quiet, and in full concentration of brain work  so that they can hear their own thoughts.  Writing is messy, and if you don’t catch your thoughts and ideas quickly… they will fly off and disappear!  So, this is how I feel secure….  Hearing myself and editing myself and creating word-filled pages that work and feel like magic!

So, am I resigned to this life?  Well, of course.  There is nothing that  I would wish undone.  There is nothing that I would wish redone….  (Sometimes when I am angry, or feeling jealous, I do wish that my entire life were redone… but that is a situation that even twins cannot outwit.  Being angry and /or jealous is natural even if your twin is perfect evidence of what the situation is.)

So, here is my life.  Summer is just starting, and I am becoming very busy with all the plans that are floating around the house.  My husband wants this….  My kids want that….  And then, do we have time to visit grandma?  Will there be time enough to buy a season’s pass to the theme park?  And, are the kids ready to take on over night camp?

These are not necessarily easy decisions to make.  Being bad and getting slightly poor grades are not conducive to going out to play at the waterpark…  It is more likely that summer school will be the result and consequence of that!

Life is not easy….  As the anthem of my generation states, “Life is a mystery, and we must stand alone.”  It is tragically beautiful, and, I bet, this is one thing that twins do not understand!

The Reality of Mother’s Day

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We always hope things are real.  We tell ourselves that things are real.  That we wouldn’t be here if the things that happen are not real.

It is surreal that bodies are left here when a person dies and passes on.  It is surreal that people will use a gun to kill.  It is surreal that guns are manufactured when it is obvious people do not treat them as toys, but as a real way to kill people.

Why is life like this?  What do we consider is alive and what do we consider is worth living for?

From a scientist’s point of view, things that rely on each other, as in being in an eco-system, are things (organisms) that are alive.  As for the polar opposite, the solar system, not one thing in it (except earth) is actually alive.  It exists in a rhythmic, inanimate, and up to mathematical accuracy like many cogs working in a beautiful machine.

It seems the reality is that we do not only live for the best things in life.  Things  get in the way, and immediately, we return the supposed blow to our ego and esteem with an equal and greater blow.  What starts this continuous cycle?  And why do we rely on each other like this?

I was at a lunch meeting the other day, and even in the civilized and sophisticated office that I work in, we were all together eating lunch and uninhibitedly trading bits of gossip.  I mean, I can only brag about my children only oh so much before I look like I’m obsessed with them.

We had booked the day to both eat and also make use of our time to plan and discuss the issues for our next project.  Several times through the meeting, opinions of the ideas and possible creations that we wanted to make and deal with were brought up, and also, summarily batted down.  I do not doubt that some of the members of our team, had worked hard to try to make their ideas and plans the one that would fly.

I am not saying that this hasn’t happened to me, but it seems to just be the smaller version of the large-eco-system reality that we are surrounded by and live in.  Where some people will use threat and force to deal with a negative reception, others will keep a careful  diary of a “track record” and use this as leverage for job loss or being looked over for a promotion.  And, of course, there is just plain blows to the ego.  And how long and how many times can someone just sit through peers’ negative comments and bullying?

So, why is this reality? Are we helping to shape the world as it will be?  A century from now?  Are we encouraging merit?  Or, are we just encouraging the same old Earth that has been here millions of years, because, quite frankly, it just won’t change?

I am hoping there is something called “Evolution.”  It sounds to me like the answer to Earth’s burgeoning problems.  Charles Darwin studied animals, and found that they, even with their limited brain size, were capable of change and gain. Sure, they were nothing like human beings, but because they responded to changes in their environment, slowly, they were changing the next generation, if not changing their own very entrenched behaviors, at the moment they responded.  Soon, species of animals were created, and new breeds were found and the animal kingdom grew and flourished.

Human beings, being capable of planned thought, unfortunately, are not responding as positively to pressures and change.  We keep doing and keep thinking like all the generations previous to ours….  Well, why?  Because nothing at all has actually changed!

So, we, reading that our ancestors used swords to settle problems, we will us knives and guns to allay ours.  We will bully, because reading how well it works, we know how to do it and make it work ourselves.  Have you thought of a better way of doing things?  Even if I wanted to be a one-woman-band, and declare a brand new way of living, clean of blood, sweat and death, no one would actually listen.  I would be ostracized as a problem, and considered dealt with.

Mother’s Day is this weekend, and like everyone else, I love Mother’s Day, because I have a mother I love.  I would never bully my mother.  I would never call her bad names.  I will never stick her in a god-forsaken hole when she grows old and feeble, as I want to take care of her.  At least this is something that exists in a very real way.  We are all children, and therefore we all have mothers and fathers.  There reality of life is that we get tired of loving.  And the reality is that we become embroiled in wars instead.  It is a quick way to make life work and a quick way to make some money on it, without ties that bind in forever bondage.

A Prayer: The Impact of the Divinity, Superman

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The wind tunnel is crazy.  It blows my jacket up and flips my umbrella inside out.   The more open space there is, the more wind there is.  Sometimes all the buildings in a row can accelerate some breeze into a gale force.  I have had to turn my back against the wind just so I can keep my eyes open.  It’s difficult.  The only way to stop the wind, is to stop the Earth from revolving.  Or is that rotating?  If Earth spins faster, would there be a difference in the things that grow, or in the weather?  The divinity of Superman is his ability to change the direction of the Earth in its orbit.  He could probably propel it towards another solar system.  I spend my days worrying whether I have enough sleep rather than whether the universe will collapse and implode on itself, the force great enough to create another universe, without Earth and without human beings.

It will be a decision of life and death, if Superman were to truly exist and if he were to do exactly that–to recreate life in the void of space.  The power he holds, as a divinity, with the power of flight, strength and sight, makes him the responsible one.  He can verify the right and the wrong, and, if the  seeing of what human beings have created of themselves, becomes a burden in the weighting of justification, he will weigh his judgement and make the decision.

In Superman’s universe, the act of living is an idea.  It is the ability to think that makes living truly a life.  Human beings have the ability to decide for themselves what it is they are doing and will do.  However, Superman exists because the ideas that some people have involve the acts of life that destroy.  So, will Superman take it upon himself to change the course of humanity?  Will he fly out to outer space, and spin the planet yet again…  hoping that the change in direction or speed, will change the course of humanity for good?

Are the lives of human beings changeable?  Is the design of a human being a set of hard and fast rules?  Is this the only way to create life?

Why do human beings believe in divinities like Superman?  Do they wish to change?  Do they resent and rue the existence that exists?  Do human beings wish they were different?  Do they wish that everyone alive, including themselves, were like Superman…  with insight and ability of such greatness?  Do they wish they had the degree of superpower Superman has?

Maybe if human beings imagined the best and did what they could in the degree of human-ness and humanity that they are capable of, the, in a way, we would have Earth Day for real and for sure.  We would not need a superhero with superhuman powers to determine the ultimate existence of human beings.  We would ourselves, determine that human beings have life, and that we are living in a way that does not destroy life.  Would we then, not always imagine the better creation?  The creation that would exist if we were to ask Superman to change the direction of spin the planet is in?

Like I said earlier, I worry more about walking through a wind tunnel, than I do about trying to change the way human beings are.  I do not stay awake at night wondering if the earth would stop spinning or if the universe would implode.  I often hope that there would not be so many days that rain, and I always wish there were more days of hot weather.  I easily wish to see more of my friends and family, always rueing the time i am always lacking, and sometimes, missing and losing.

I thank the Marvel Comics people for creating such an amazing and inspirational character like Superman.  He filled my childhood days with ideas of a superhuman being who had the superhuman ability to change life because he had supreme judgement that never failed.  It is as if he were given his superpowers because he understood and could see deeply into human psyche and therefore use his powers for good, for sure.

So, with this musing on Superman and Earth Day, I wonder, if, ever, life on earth will ever change?  Human beings will always be flawed, and will always make mistakes of life and living.  It is how we live…  And grow.  I make a prayer, with, this, that people will take care… and that perhaps, Superman, will take care, and hope that life will not get any worse, at bottom, and that we will always get better.