Ephemeral–now that’s a mouthful….

Ephemeral–now that’s a mouthful for a word infrequently used, and meaning short-lived. Still, it’s one of the most vitalizing words in the English language. That is, if we can grasp its implications–that ending hovers over everything, over what and whom we love.

Mortality lies at the groundswell of poetry, that time erodes and even memory dulls, that it brings with it alteration. Its waves, often unperceived in the languorous satiety of life, nonetheless sweep in and out, cast up, then take away. Life has its rhythms. There is a time to be born and a time to die, as Ecclesiastes tells us.

I contemplate not upon human mortality only, but upon best friendships, happy events, kind deeds, promises made, hopes gathered of good health, material comfort, my children’s happiness. I know now that even the mountains grow and die.

As a college student, I once wrote a poem about a tree outside my class window–its pregnant fullness, its long life with more to come, the irony that a tree like some Galapagos sea turtle should outlive humans, evolution’s crowning achievement. Several months later, the bulldozers moved in.

Again, I think of so many poems I have loved, poignant in their melancholy of demise and ending: Shakespeare’s “Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day?”; Yeats’s “The Wild Swans Of Coole”; Dylan Thomas’s “Fern Hill”; Houseman’s “Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now”; my favorite, Keats’ “Ode to a Nightingale”.

At times I have felt like the Psalmist who wrote of weeping by the waters of Babylon in recall of Zion’s pre-Captivity halcyon past. Like him, I know that even nations rise and fall.

I know, too, that time fades the sensory past and often bequeaths a future not granting great expectations.

Yet I do not mourn life’s ephemerality, for I have learned to revere what I cannot keep, to indulge each new day, to love more fully.

With much that’s taken, much is given.

We have only the Now in which to seek and find the Grail.

rj

Lately I’ve been reading….

Lately I’ve been reading F. Scott Fitzgerald’s lesser known novel, This Side of Paradise. It’s one of those freebies you can now download, given its removal from copyright after fifty years.

This novel focuses on the character Amory Blaine. There’s not much to like about Amory, particularly his conceit. He interests me because he resembles many of us. He likes control. He has a zeal to be noticed. He’s self conscious in everything he does. He must be perfect. He must be liked. In his self-absorption, he’s quick to take offense.

In the course of things, he meets his third cousin, Clara Page, with whom he falls in love. Widowed and impoverished, she nonetheless has a compelling resilience about her and an insightful way of getting to the core of things. As her first name suggests, she functions as a clarifier in her intuitive keenness. She sees, for example, the source of Amory’s vanity and sensitivity to criticism.

Clara is direct in her dissection of Amory’s egotism as a mask for deeply seated feelings of personal inadequacy:

“You sink to the third hell of depression when you think you’ve been slighted. In fact, you haven’t much self-respect.”

Here, as elsewhere in this novel, Fitzgerald proves a keen observer of the psychological motives behind outward behavior.

When we wound easily or strive overly it often stems from a sense we don’t measure up. Perfectionists, we yearn for approval as evidence of our self-worth. Over achievers, we require validation.

Clara again hits the nail on the head, exclaiming, “The reason you have so little self-confidence, even though you gravely announce to the occasional philistine that you’re a genius, is that you’ve attributed all sorts of faults to yourself and are trying to live up to them.”

Amory suffers from a common anxiety malaise that can shackle our potential for finding happiness. It becomes difficult to elude its hydra tentacles, as it requires an honest and painful, acknowledgment of our weaknesses. But it’s the only way out. Until we can live with ourselves, warts and all, we can’t really find contentment.

This doesn’t mean getting into self-flagellation. It isn’t wallowing we’re after. It’s self-acceptance. Only then can true healing begin. We become lovable when we learn to love ourselves. Forgiving ourselves, we can forgive others.

Mitch Albom got it right in his The Five People You Meet in Heaven: “‘You have peace, the old woman said, ‘when you make peace with yourself.'”

rj

Hats off to Wisconsin governor Scott Walker….

Hats off to Wisconsin governor Scott Walker on his victory in Tuesday’s recall election.  I say this not because I am a Republican.  I am not.  In fact, I find much of their current agenda extreme in its callousness to the growing divide between the prosperous few and the beleaguered middle class.  I dislike their injection of evangelical overtones that would impose on the private interest. I could go on.  
I just happen to admire the governor for standing tall.  He never flinched or played the expedience game as most politicians do.  Apparently, many Wisconsin voters agreed, the governor winning by a hefty seven percent margin in what was supposed to be a close election.  
At the heart of my relief are two factors:  the first, the threat recall elections pose to the democratic process; the second, the heavy toll on federal and state budget deficits inflated by rising pension and health care costs for those in the public sector.  In parody of Shakespeare, I would suggest that public workers protest too much.
In the first instance, I have posted previously (see Aug.11, 2011) on the threat recall elections pose to political stability.  I abhor recall petitions for a recall and hence overturning of an election.  Truth is,  Wisconsin has already suffered several recall elections that included a judge, who also survived.  It amounts to government by the mob.  Don’t like a decision? Then throw the bum out.  It hasn’t anything to do with criminality.  Nor are we in a town meeting at the local courthouse.
 
In the second instance, I have always been ambivalent about unions.  My dad always  feared a union takeover where he worked.  For him, unions brought strife.
As a teen, I refused my first job in a supermarket, since they required union membership.  I didn’t like a policy abrogating choice. I found it un-American and still do.
Here in Kentucky, Toyota workers have consistently shunned union representation.  They are remunerated well, whether in pay or other benefits.  They know the score.
Unions decry the loss of manufacturing jobs to other countries when the truth is their incessant greed has increasingly infringed upon profitability margins for the entrepreneur.   Consumers themselves will choose lower prices over nationalism when pushing comes to shove.  Have unions not learned from the likes of box stores such as Walmart?
Unions cost local economies.  Consider Boeing in Seattle, where my son-in-law works.  Because of inveterate union demands, particularly on the part of the Machinist Union, Boeing recently opted for a new assembly plant in South Carolina.  Let me tell you,  Boeing workers are hardly underpaid.
When it comes to pensions for public workers, why should they be endowed with 30-year pensions in the first place?  The vast majority of us have to work into our sixties, if we’re able to retire even then.  In Kentucky, nearly a third of teachers retiring in their early fifties return to the job they supposedly retired from.
I can see thirty year pensions for those in risk occupations: military, police and fire workers, though disability benefits need greater monitoring in the latter occupations.  
And why shouldn’t workers such as teachers and those in federal, state, and local government contribute more to their health and retirement costs?  The rest of us do.  Note that I say this, even though my wife is a teacher.
Why should we have to pay for them, resulting in increasing cutbacks in other areas, ironically, including education and government?
No longer can the public support these lavish payouts.  At present, only two states are solvent when it comes to pension funding. The other states are in the hock for billions. Some of them face insolvency, complicated by the downturn in the economy and decreased tax revenue.
This is why Scott Walker won.  
I am glad he won.
rj

Stress can take its toll on your health

Stress can take its toll on your health.  Unabated, it can shorten your life.  I keep telling myself this, since it’s been a long time bug-a- boo for me. You see, I’m a chronic worrier.
Stress comes in many wrappings.  More commonly, it comes from our dodgem affair with everyday life: work, relationships, unemployment, health issues, a loved one’s death.  I bet you could add to the list. There’s enough to go around, that’s for sure.
A lot of times, we can’t avoid stress.  It’s the entrance fee for pursuing a full life.  We may sometimes wish for lotus land, but it’s in the striving, not escape, we achieve and find fulfillment.  Mark Twain, a guy increasingly compelling for me in his common sense observations, said he would find heaven a boring place. I agree.  
But as I hinted, sometimes stress is of our own making.  Like an ulcer, it can erode life’s joy. I consider myself relatively intelligent and rational, yet I worry a lot, even about little things, like Did I say the right thing? What will people think?  Did I sign the check I just stashed in the envelope?  
Lately, as an older person, I’ve been worried about my health. My body doesn’t work as well. Increasingly, I’ve had to turn sentry to preserve what health remains. Like a car gathering miles, things start to go wrong, sometimes suddenly.
I think my recent nemesis, or anxiety, has its more immediate source in a common human malady: the angst of mortality.  When we’re young, we don’t think about it much, at least most of us. As I write, I think of Auden’s exquisite poem, “Musee des Beaux Arts,” with its allusion to children for whom grief and death, the epitomies of life’s drama, absent themselves in the intensity of their play.
When we get older, we become more aware.  We take insurance and what we pay is determined by scientifically based actuary tables.  
We all worry, but some of us worry far too much, gashing the tree of life in getting too close with our weed-eater approach, trimming away life’s unevenness.
Buddhism has it right in its simple maxim that all suffering comes of desire.  We want too much what we often lack power to control. With acceptance comes peace. This is the great moral of Sophocles’ ancient, yet still riveting play, Oedipus the King, its protagonist determined to outwit Fate.
Worrying comes from a need to control, when what we really need is to let go. Things get a whole lot lighter when we hurl our sack of anxieties over the mountain side.
You see, the best of living comes with living in the moment.  The past is what it is, and we’re not guaranteed a future.
I’m not there yet. The trail up the mountain is arduous in its steep, but I’m making the trek, one step at a time. I have found wise counsel, helpful books, and to my delight, yoga with its progressive relaxation postures, deep breathing, and meditation aspects. I’m curious about Tai Chi.
I’ve been learning to replace negative thoughts, the source of emotional pain, with positive alternatives. I have returned to daily physical exercise, a great stress-buster, too.
I am worrying less. I enjoy life more.
rj

The Obama administration prides itself…

The Obama administration prides itself on having saved Detroit’s auto industry with its proviso of bailout money.  Of course, this wasn’t the case for prosperous Ford Motor company, which enjoyed substantial profits despite the downturn in the economy with the onset of the 2008 recession.  Clearly, the demise of Chrysler and GM had its source elsewhere, or in mismanagement.  While GM and Chrysler have largely repaid the government, the fact remains that such bailouts have resulted in a trillion dollars of new debt.  Sooner or later, we will have to pay the piper as we approach the Eurozone’s  present dilemma.  
Both Republicans and Democrats have made matters worse by approving the Obama sponsored payroll tax cut, resulting in a diversion of 2% from Social Security funding, a vital program already in serious trouble.  Republicans have further contributed to our economic malaise by holding out for no new income tax revenues.  What is needed is a balance of stimulus money in programs that can work along with cuts in pork barrel spending and a provision for adequate tax revenue to pay for programs that do matter.  Germany is today’s model in this regard, to the envy of its neighbors.  
Ironically, Obama’s economic policies with their lavish spending, exacerbated by Republican intransigence on new tax revenue, threaten all of us.  Unfortunately, this administration seems bent on rewarding incompetence, and frequently, even with regard to malfeasance on the part of banks, the auto industry, and even home owners.
I strongly believe that government does better when it encourages the private sector, reducing deficit spending, limiting tax subsidies, reforming tax laws to broaden the tax base, etc.
To our peril, in our rush to ever increasing Federal encroachment on the private sector, we have retreated from those principles set in motion by the founding fathers, rewarding diligence and industry, that has distinguished the American experiment from Europe’s welfare state and propelled its prosperity.  
I would offer one final caution:  implementing new tax revenue without corresponding spending discipline only encourages government to spend even more.
What I have written is encapsulated in Benjamin Franklin’s observation on the new American republic:  “The expense of our civil government we have always borne, and can easily bear, because it is small.  A virtuous and laborious people may be cheaply governed” (Letter to William Strahan, February 16, 1784).

If you had but one wish

If you had but one wish that could change your life, what would it be? Would it come down to the traditional game-players as primary motivators: wealth, power, fame? There are some, however few, the angels among us, who’d choose helping others. Still others, and they number in the millions actually, who’d opt for living a life pleasing to God.

Frankly, this is a hard question for me to answer, for I can think of still other pleasing options like enjoying good health, freedom from anxiety, the respect of others, etc. What other options could you add to this list? Perhaps a happy marriage and family life, or to be loved, or to have a best friend, or even just to be appreciated? Now remember, you only get one wish. In a showdown, which is it for you? And why? See, it isn’t all that easy. Like so much in life, making one decision often means forfeiting another. For me, it’s a whole lot easier to choose between good and bad than between two kinds of good.

Of course you might conjecture that these choices are always personal, since their consequences may make some happy, others less so. I use “happy” deliberately, for isn’t this implied for ourselves in any wish we’d like to come true?

Me, I’ve long been suspicious of the underlying premise of E. A. Robinson’s “Richard Cory” many of us have read in high school English. You know–the guy everybody envied for his wealth, only to kill himself. Sorry to any of you preferring orthodoxy, but I think I like the money wish best, not for its own sake, or from greed, but because it actually multiplies my choices: I can find the best doctors; provide better for those I love, animals as well as people; help preserve Nature’s diminishing footprint; endow cancer charities and provide food for the hungry; choose where I want to live; come upon better, more quality goods.

Not to be left out, I’d gain access to people I’d like to be with–accomplished, refined, intelligent, connoisseurs of excellence. In my social station, I don’t see much of this. It hangs out in certain zip codes replete with people who choose where to live for its amenities like good schools, safe neighborhoods where you don’t have to watch your back, tranquil parks, tree-lined streets, a neighborhood club house, tennis courts and pool, maybe even an equine barn for stabling your horse or say an adjacent golf course; but best of all, neighbors who share a respect for education, intelligence, liberal thought, and professional accomplishment. I see them at symphonies, I read of their charity, note their activism for making life fairer for the marginalized, their absence of malice or rancor toward those of different color or ethnicity or sexual persuasion, their freedom from extremism, whether political or religious. They assume leadership roles in their community. They fund the arts. They work for quality schools. They are not isotopes couched before TV screens. In the politics of opportunism they are often the scapegoats for what ails, when the reality is they pay most of the taxes, despite what you hear, and frequently do more to provide enterprise, meaning jobs for you and me.

No E. A. Robinson for me. I prefer F. Scott Fitzgerald, who envied the rich in their gated life as an obsessed outsider desiring entrance. And I know why.

Where are you, Aladdin with your magical lamp? I’ve a wish to make.

rj

I am back!

I am back!

I am back! This after several months of illness. And I’m feeling better.

I appreciate those of you who read my blog worldwide: Russia, UK, Canada, Germany, the USA, Japan. I’ve missed you!

For new readers, this is an indie blog. I write my observations on a wide variety of topics to provide a stimulus for thought and discussion. I craft carefully with you in mind, usually two or three times a week. You are invited to respond, either through the response option or email options that follow each entry. Don’t be shy and always be gentle with me and each other. Please forgive my sometimes exuberance. I’ve always been a Romantic at heart.

rj

The Harry Nilsson legacy

Everbody’s talkin at me
I don’t hear a word they’re saying
Only the echoes of their mind

People stopping staring
I can’t see their faces
Only the shadows of their eyes

I’m going where the sun keeps shining
Through the pouring rain
Going where the weather suits my clothes
Backing off of the North East winds sailing on summer breeze
And skipping over the ocean like a stone

I first heard Harry Nilsson sing these lyrics, composed by Fred Neil, and a staple of the great music that helped make Midnight Cowboy one of the best films of 1969 as a graduate student in Chapel Hill, seeking time-out from academic rigor.

Over the years, I neither forgot the movie with its archetypal search for the lost Eden, nor its haunting lead song, which has remained my favorite, beating out even John Lennon’s “Imagine” and Linda Ronstadt’s smash hit, “Blue Bayou.” By the way, Lennon and Nilsson were drinking buddies at one point, and the Beetles admired his song-writing. He was prolific, often writing songs for other singers and bands, including Glenn Campbell and the Monkees.

There’s something about this song, maybe the way Nilsson sings it, that puts me in a buoyant mood setting out for a new day whenever I hear it.

Ironically, his name probably draws a blank for many young people, underscoring yet again the short tenure of fame in a world that moves on.

For the older generation, how can one forget his “I guess the Lord must be in New York City,” another great song from Midnight Cowboy:

I say good-bye to all my sorrows
And by tomorrow I’ll be on my way
I guess the Lord must be in New York City

Nilsson also wrote and sang the gentle lyrics of “Remember,” which was revived as part of the sound track for the popular movie, You’ve got mail:

Remember is a place from long ago
Remember, filled with every place you know
Remember, when you’re feeling sad and down
Remember, turn around

Life is just a memory
Close your eyes and you can see
Remember, think of all that life can be
Remember

I think of “Remember” as a lullaby, great for sleepless nights.

Nilsson also wrote other memorable songs, often sung by other artists:

“Sixteen Tons”
“Me and my Arrow”
“As Time Goes By”
“Coconut”
“A Love Like Yours”

I like it best when he sings his own lyrics in that mellifluous, cadenced voice that resonates so hauntingly, for Nilsson’s music, make no mistake about it, is about you and me in our everyday humanity, expectant, but often disappointed.

It’s quite amazing that this musical genius came from a rough, Brooklyn neighborhood and a broken home. He had just a ninth grade education. His mother was an alcoholic, and he would have six step-fathers. It was rare he gave a public concert. Only one album came out under his own name.

Among his admirers were the Beatles, who deemed him the best American solo singer-writer in America. He enjoyed close relationships with John and Ringo.

I think of him as being a lot like his contemporary, the English singer-songwriter, Nick Drake. Like Nilsson, Drake refrained from public concerts, remained relatively unknown, and was largely an influence. Today he’s recognized in the UK as one of its greatest singer-songwriters in the last 50 years. He was 26 when he died of a drug overdose for depression.

On January 15, 1994, Nilsson died from a heart attack. He was just 53.

Finding a hobby: shaking yourself awake

Do you have a hobby? I suppose a hobby is anything you spend time doing with a passion, not because it’s practical, but for its own sake- a kind of follow your bliss thing. Everybody should have a hobby, if nothing else, to break the 9 to 5 syndrome that, along with sleep, consumes two thirds of our lives, a precious commodity slipping like sand through our fingers daily till one day we find we’re no longer that age when all our body parts did their thing and desire never slackened and courage came in abundance.

Now there are all kinds of hobbies. As a child in Philly, I once picked-up a boy scout handbook. It fascinated me to read of so many skill areas, from mastering rope knots to bee-keeping. Master 20 of them and you got to be an eagle scout, top- of-the line. Just one would have been plenty for me. Do you have a hobby? I’d be grateful if you’d share it with me in the commentary section that comes after a post.

My hobbies? I have many interests such as reading, gardening, and even blogging. But I’m all about specializing, or developing expertise to the point you become an authority like a connoisseur of fine wine. Sometimes a hobby can bloom into a career. How cool is that?

If we have to sit under the toad, work, as poet Philip Larkin once put it, then there’s nothing surpassing that rarity when vocation and avocation prove bed fellows. Hobbies give joy, release us from a volatile world, help us get in touch with ourselves. God knows, in these uncertain times we need a hobby more than ever to wade through life’s daily muck and capricious surprises.

I was just thinking: how intriguing it would be to find out what hobbies, if any, many of our icons–movie stars, athletes, political figures, etc, pursue. I know that Churchill and Eisenhower were into painting. Celebrity Dennis Weaver got into photography as a youngster and got quite good at it. Keanu Reeves indulges in his band, Dogstar.

Hobbies can do good for others. Besides collecting orphans, Brad Pitt has founded and is active in a project that builds affordable housing for the displaced in post-Katrina New Orleans. Geena Davis is one hell of an archer, finishing 24th among 300 would-be Olympic archers. Go, Geena! They’re all busy people, but they all have hobbies.

Me, I’ve always had this hankering for travel. As a child, I studied flags, read about countries, pursued ships docked at the Philly pier, spent oodles of time working-up imaginary itineraries, a wanna-be Frank Buck bent on safari. Out of this came my love for languages. I guess I’ve studied about thirteen of them now, not all of them for long spells, but some, a great deal like German and French. These last years, I’ve chosen to specialize, more specifically, to learn Spanish well, and so, todos los dias (everyday), with rare exception, I spend time working at it. The trick is to gauge your interests, choose one, and master it well.

I think Dale Carnegie may have said it best: “Today is life–the only life you are sure of. Make the most of today. Get interested in something. Shake yourself awake, Develop a hobby, Let the winds of enthusiasm sweep through you. Live today with gusto.”

Bombing Iran: Big mistake!

This year, 2012, is fraught with danger. I write of Iran, which clearly has become our leading nemesis. Perhaps not since pre-Pearl Harbor has talk of a pending war, like the menacing sword of Democles, weighed so heavily upon our nation. It’s a conflict that need not happen and that we should do everything to avoid.

The problem is that both the U. S. and Europeans have already pursued negotiations several times with little result, with a new round to take place soon. Just two months ago, the U. N. issued the findings of its International Atomic Energy Agency, with troves of evidence substantiating Iran’s steady march towards a nuclear capacity far beyond its purported purpose of generating electricity and empowering medical reactors.

Several experts forecast Iran will have its bomb within the next three years, and that over the next several months, will have reached the irreversible point in its technological advances. In short, the window for a successful attack, knocking out Iran’s capacity to produce a nuclear bomb, is rapidly closing. Even if such an attack were initiated, we would at best probably set back their program by maybe three years. It’s simply not a viable option.

The consequences would be incalculable. Hamas and Hezbollah would attack Israel. It would unite much of the Muslim world, wreak havoc on our troops still in Afghanistan, and within hours, spike oil prices 50% higher, plunging the world into economic chaos.

Quite frankly, Iran holds all the aces in this dangerous political poker. We just may have to live with a nuclear Iran. We did so with the Soviet Union, then China and, presently, North Korea.

We have tried assassination of Iranian scientists, planted explosives inside facilities, conducted electronic sabotage, but to no avail. Thus far, sanctions have proven our best option and are clearly biting into the Iranian economy. Yet even here, we are countered by Russian and Chinese recalcitrance.

Meanwhile, there looms the possibility of Israel’s launching a preemptive strike. We know Netanyahu and his cabinet have been engaged in secret discussion on a contingency plan. Ideally, they’d like the U. S. to initiate a strike, highly unlikely while Obama is president. As Romney put it, “Reelect Obama and Iran will have the bomb.” Currently, Israel’s relationship with the Obama administration is at an unprecedented low point.

If Israel were to attack, it would optimally be just before the November election, resulting in substantial pressure on the Obama administration to support its staunch ally, which understandably sees its very survival at stake. In a replay of August, 1914, when Germany was forced into supporting its treaty ally, Austro-Hungary, resulting in World War I, the U. S. could find itself drawn into a military imbroglio that would make Iraq and Afghanistan seem mere excursions by comparison

Again, the stakes are too high to play brinkmanship. Ratching up the rhetoric in a political year only increases the danger of igniting a spark kindling global catastrophe. The wisest approach should be one grounded in calm, reasoned diplomacy, with Iran treated as an equal at the conference table. Sanctions are one thing, but surely we can try some carrots, too.

And if Iran does get the bomb, don’t assume it means lights out. We have lived with nuclear adversaries a very long time. We can do so yet again.