On Happiness

Foreword:
I thought to change the title of this entry to "David has a broken heart" because the questions in this entry are in part, provoked by this state of affairs. But ultimately the idea to write this entry came from an email exchange and a subsequent conversation with Momcilo, and thus I cannot take all the credit. I also want to add that I am becoming more and more convinced of the maxim "act locally". The evolution of my political person following 7 months in a large Multi-National is moving away from seeking global solutions (international diplomacy, etc.) and towards finding solutions in and from the communities where the issues originate.

What is happiness then? Like 'freedom', I fear it is one of those terms thrown around easily, and without clear definition. Where does it come from? Is it simply a good balance of chemicals in your brain? Or more philosophical, like a profound understanding of who you are and your place in the world?

I ask these questions because of a recent email exchange with a few different friends, but also because I sense that, myself included, there is a general unhappiness in the world, and thus we are all chasing this idea. But if we have trouble defining it, then what the hell are we chasing?

I could start by answering that part first: What are we chasing? Nothing, I would answer, because I think we are running away from unhappiness, more than we are chasing happiness. It's why so many are on some kind of Medication (legal and illegal). I believe that there are some legitimate uses for some of the medication used to get people out of depression, but it has become a bona fide industry for passifying the masses (as has the illegal drug 'industry'). We cannot chase something we struggle to define, as to do so would be to waste a lot of energy running in a thousand directions. In fact, as I think about it, that is exactly what the experience of running away from something, in this case unhappiness, is like. We simply scatter, not knowing where our refuge is, like a heard of wild beast.

Part of the problem in defining it, as I see things, is that there is no collective experience called 'happiness', nor should there be (please see The Invasion or Equilibrium for good explanations why). It is, I believe, a highly individual experience, even when part / all of the source (or the percieved source) of happiness is another individual. They will never be experiencing exactly the same as you. The level of diversity in people is simply to great for one single thing to be the definition, thus our objective, of happiness.

There is also danger in relying to much on external factors to define happiness. I can write this particular sentence, these particular thoughts, from personal (recent) experience. When happiness is not internal, there is great danger of losing that which makes you happy, because it is totally uncontrolable (this goes for people as much as it goes for pills). What happens then, when you lose the source? When you can no longer drink from the pool? Then you experience a terrifying sense of emptyness, which can drive a person to some extreme measures to fill the sudden void. But what if you have an internal sense of happiness? Not "I am happy because..." but rather, "I am happiness".

Don't get me wrong, losing something that made you feel good, that you enjoyed, will always be tough and will always be a negative experience, but if you are not defining yourself and your happiness by it, then it will be easily managable and overcome. Of course, we should not all become Narcissus, spending our lives staring into the pool, but we need to rely on ourselves and our knowledge of ourselves in becomeing happiness, more than we do now. We need to balance this relationship better.

We should also take a moment to acknowledge the insane standards we set for ourselves in trying to achieve happiness. Every day we watch movies and TV shows, we read magazines and book, and we listen to songs about happiness. In these media we are given ideas of how our lives should or could look, but don't. The characters in these situations and everything about them, is carefully designed to attract us. The problem is that they are not necessarily grounded in reality and the lifestyle they advertise is virtually unattainable. Thus, when we fail to achieve what we see everyday as desirable, it causes us stress, and makes us unhappy. But we don't need to feel this way, because really it is just someone's idea of happiness and since we'll never experience it, fuck it.

We should rather take stock of what we have, what we have achieved and how unimportant these imposed standards are. We don't have to be important in the public perception to be happy. Happiness is not linked to anything but feeling comfortable with yourself, which is primarily an internal experience. We do things of significance everyday.

This is, as everything in life, a work in progress. As I get to this point in the writing, I see I can go no further and answer the other questions I asked myself. I cannot because I don't know, or maybe I am not in the right frame-of-mind to do so. But I think it is important that I have at least posed the questions. I have given myself a little direction, I have released further internal tensions, and balanced myself a little.

Afterword:

"Maybe the important thing you are doing with your life is taking care of the cat. At least, from the cats perspective, one might come to that conclusion...

But seriously, I understand the need to do something 'important' with ones life. It is part of the reason I left Maine (both times actually). Certain experiences in the last 6 months have suggested to me that everything is important, well, lets say everything is significant. So, being single, a waitress and the proprietor of a cat, are as significant as taking over a small country (and in many ways much less stressful for everyone involved...)...

I find it extremely hard to get rid of the feeling that I am not doing anything important, that I won't amount to anything. I blame social pressure and hyper capitalism. We need to have constant progress and upward mobility in our lives, because that is what supports the continued growth of the economic system. So, the system subtly ingrains it into our identity. We are always reading about really important people, but never about Peter Petrovic the farmer. Why is his life less significant? It's not, it just doesn't fit the front cover of consumer culture developing in all corners of the globe."

On Language

He sat down to write. What else was he going to do? Wanting to deceive them, or perhaps himself, of the true narrative, he wrote as if constructing a short story. This was to be a short story about a man in search of truth, in search of meaning in a world that often felt more alien than familiar. The search takes place under the brutal weight of jealousy and is colored by fear. 

This man in the story wished to see himself as Diomedes, tearing into battle to fight Gods and heros, but truthfully he felt more like a small child, void of the appropriate faculties for dealing with hardship. But this was not what the story is about. It is about language. In the story, the man suddenly felt himself so very far away from all that was of comfort, disconnected from his family and, laboring along with a broken heart, he struggled to reconcile his decisions with his current predicament. But, feeling it was all too autobiographical, he, the writer, decided to write about language instead. Anyway, he was tired of feeling sorry for himself, knowing it only lead down a frightful road. So he wanted to make this more optimistic, even if it betrayed, to some degree, his true thoughts.

He endowed his character with experience in these matters. He, the character, had been living on the street where one goes to feel sorry for ones self. He had been living there only a short while this time, but had spent a few years there in the past. But though this man didn't control his own fate, which was, after all, the job of the writer, he knew he wouldn't be on this street for long. He knew how to manage his internal rust. He knew because he had been there before. On this street. In this place.

But experience alone, the writer thought, was not enough to guarantee survival. If anything, experience without a mechanism to understand that experience was worse than no experience at all. Imagine knowing what was happening to you, yet having no way to deal with it.  The writer could think of nothing worse. Consequently, neither could his character. Sadly, they, the writer and the character, both had the feeling they knew someone like that. So what was it, that would make it different, more bearable this time round, wondered the character? To which the writer replied: language.

Last time he, the character had loved, loved and lost, he was totally inexperienced and didn't have any kind of guidance for dealing with these things. He had taken a few extreme measures to gain attention and to express his deep pain. He cut himself; nothing dangerous, though. Just enough to see a bit of blood, and to get the source of his misery to notice. He also medicated himself on a regular basis.

But that story was a cliche if ever there was one: young man suffers angst and goes on a years long self-pity binge until one day he decides to change things and be his own master. Anyway, a character is never his own master. That is the job of the writer. So instead he, the writer, focused on what was different now. Now he, the character, had language. He had learned, through friends, through his own travels, and through his intellectual mothers and fathers, to construct something out of this pain. He now spoke out about what he was going through, he put pen to paper and read books and watched movies to see how others dealt with it.

Though this made him, the character, a fairly selfish guy, something which he, the writer, despised, it was only a temporary narcissism. But what was it about language, mused the writer, through the character, that made this lost love more tolerable? For one thing, in the immediate, physical context, it meant that he, the character, would be able to formulate words to express his feelings, which acted as a release mechanism. Language was a sort of valve on his internal, emotional pressure cooker. It was a button he could press whenever things got to gloomy and his throat became constricted as a result. 

Moreover, language allowed him to make meaning out of what he was experiencing. He could look back on memories and see where the source of the pain was; see which decisions had gotten him to this point; and he could see the correlation between cause and effect, helping him to see why something had happened. He didn't have to just sit there, cursing the writer for this injustice, as a martyr of his own pain.  He could pick himself up and know why it happened and accept his own responsability. That, according to the writer, should be hailed as progress. Of course, it wasn't an instant remedy for how the character felt, but it was a remedy none-the-less.

Language did one more thing for him, the character. It made him more self-aware than he had ever been in the past. Language connected him to his identity and allowed him to find theories and other narratives, other characters and other writers, who could show him all the possible ways to move out of the neighborhood. Through language he could identify with experience, or perhaps, he could twist his experience to fit a narrative that offered some way forward. Language allowed him to deconstruct himself and then reconstruct himself however he felt it was appropriate. This process allowed him to inhabit this pain as an experience, as he would any other experience.

Language, the writer and the character thought: what a wonderful thing! With that, aware of his own language and ability to control it, the character climbed off the page and slaughtered the writer. What a narcissist!, he thought. Imagine taking up that much space to write about yourself and your pain. Imagine putting me, the character, through such a cliche ridden story, so full of gloom and doom! Bah! There must be more important things to write about.

So he sat down to write. After all, what else was he going to do?

Founding Myth

Tonight, I undertook my first (first ever) interview for my research project for ASN. The interview was with Lola, director of a local NGO doing various projects with the Roma community. She told me this founding story. What follows is the exact transcript of our conversation, with some mood setting and clarifications of my own.

~~

In the background, a young girl is playing with a blond, blue eyed, life size doll. She squeezes the dolls hand and a young German girls voice screeches "Wir sind die beste Freunde!" Everyone laughs. From time to time, over the next few hours, the doll would interrupt our dialogue, and we always acknowledged it with a smile and a chuckle.

"You can't imagine. Non-Roma students take interest in Roma culture... I was telling them a legend about why Roma were left India. This legend is about some Indian Princess. Uhm, they, uhm, Roma, I don't know the word in English for that? They have a pleme? When they are living together its calling?"

A community?

"Something like that yes. Roma community were there and some of Magicians told to the Indian that some army, big army, danger army, will come and will kill everyone, uh, every, uh King and  all King relative. But the magicians said that army can do nothing to Roma community. So King decided to bring his one daughter, only one daughter, to the leader of, uhm, of settlement [laughter].

So, that leader has son, and his son and Kings daughter were growing up together like brother and sister, but in moment they were in love. So one part of community, uh, and mother of boy told him the truth, that Gana is not his real sister. So they decided to marry, and one part of community stand against Chan and Gana [the wider community was never enlightened to the fact that they were not brother and sister. Thus they were expelled because, in the eyes of the community, they were living in sin], and other was with them, so they decided to separate. And the part of community that was against them, told them to go somewhere, to leave India. So they left India.

And we are thinking that all of us are part of community who are trying to find real land for us."

~~

Why did I chose this myth as a post? As Lola was telling me the story, I thought back to my Political Theory class, and how, in our discussion of Machiavelli, we focused a lot on his emphasis on keeping the founding myth central to the identity of a community. For Machiavelli, a community was kept strong through constant reversal back to the source of its creation. He understood the inevitability of corruption to any system, and argued that the only way to stay close to purity was through constantly reestablishing the myth as the center of your culture.

If the founding myth of Roma community is one of exiles in search of a land that doesn't actually exist, then their nomadic life style (which today, I will add, is more stereotype than truth) makes perfect sense. They defined themselves as a transient community in search of their new land, which has not been reached yet. To keep the identity of the community in tact, this myth, and life style, must be kept central.

Open letter to President Obama

Your Excellency,

Though it is a few hours yet 'till your confirmation as the 44th President of the United States of America, allow me to congratulate you on your assuming of the Oval office. No matter what one holds as a personal opinion, this is a historical moment for our country. You have overcome great odds to achieve the highest political office of the land, and Americans have, on one level, overcome a history of profound racism to place you in that office.

I will be the first to admit that I am often cynical when it comes to the political process, to the realities at work in any political system based on a few people making decisions for the rest of us. But on this day I will not get on that soap box. I will instead just take the next few lines to call on you not to forget all the hope your campaign rode in on. And to remember:

REMEMBER the 50+ millions of Americans living without health insurance,

REMEMBER the other millions of Americans whose health insurance is more interested in profit than well being,

REMEMBER the level of greed displayed by our business community that provoked this massive, global, economic crisis,

REMEMBER all the Earthlings who now must stand in bread lines with no idea where the next paycheck is coming from or whether they will still have a roof over their heads at the end of the month,

REMEMBER all the Earthlings who are spending this cold winter with no roof over their heads and no food in their stomach,

REMEMBER all the Earthlings illegally imprisoned in Guantanamo Bay,

REMEMBER your own promise to seek some justice for these same Earthlings,

REMEMBER your promise to close down that place,

REMEMBER all the Earthlings who lost their lives in Iraq and Afghanistan,

REMEMBER your own promises towards those parts of the world,

REMEMBER all the people who lost their lives in the Levant these last days,

REMEMBER they are all Earthlings and entitled to a dignity long denied them, irrespective of ideology,

REMEMBER that you are a public servant, and for the next 4 - 8 years, you work not for your own interests or enrichment, but for the people of the United States,

REMEMBER that you asked for this responsability and it remains yours until the end of your mandate, and even when things get tough, the buck stops with you,

REMEMBER all this, and

REMEMBER to be honest at all times.

Yours, in hope and friendship,

David A. Brown

Earthling

The Mac is Back

                                                             ...pretty sweeeeettttt....

On Joyce

I had a fascinating discussion with MD last night on James Joyce. “I discovered him at a time in my life when I was unsatisfied with my situation.” This line stuck with me, for obvious reasons. As things feel heavy, and Serbia seems trapped under a permanent cloud, foggy with the temperature always around -2, I am struggling to keep things in perspective.

“I understood him right away and he was illuminating for me. It lifted me out of my depression.” I resolved to give Joyce a shot. I haven’t read him since 1997, when we were assigned Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man. I have little memory of the book, as I never could find a way into it. Thus my reading of it was superficial. But now, I am more experienced, and my motivations, needs and desires are a bit different.

So why not? Maybe it is time to try again?

According to MD, Joyce wrote because he had to, not because he wanted to publish. He wrote for himself and in order to make sense of the world around him. We should all have this freedom… The challenge now? To find a source for these book in Serbia!

European Council Declaration on sport

The European Council recognises the importance of the values attached to sport, which are essential to European society.

It stresses the need to take account of the specific characteristics of sport, over and above its economic dimension.

It welcomes the establishment of a constructive dialogue at the first European Sport Forum organised by the European Commission.

It calls for the strengthening of that dialogue with the International Olympic Committee and representatives of the world of sport, in particular on the question of combined sports training and education for young people.

60 minuets of immortality

For a whole hour today I was free of all my chains. Momentarily I didn't think about her, I didn't think about my family, about Gaza, about my future or any of my nagging concerns. I transformed myself into Diomedes, spear in hand, and flew into battle to challenge Apollo on the shore of Troy.

I charged up and down the battle field, replicating the most beautiful passes and shots of past a present legends. I was di Steffano, then Shilton, then Matthaus, and finally Henry. I controlled myself, then I controlled others, I gave direction and then took direction. I focused on a single task, forcing myself to overcome my physical limitation, in the name of glory, victory and immortality.

I took to the field with the belief that I would win, that I would decide for myself and for others the outcome of this conflict. Everything else melted away, insignificant in the face of what was at hand.

I played football. It was glorious.

On Gaza

I have been plagued with a strange guilt for having been unable, for the last three weeks to write about the horrifying conflict in Gaza. I, a student of political science, must have something to say? But it feels as though no-one with the ability to make a difference is even listening. Only the fringe voices appear to be speaking out: Moon, Kucinich, etc.  I then reminded myself, difficult though it maybe, silence equals consent. If I don't write about this, about my interpretations, and my feelings on the conflict, then I am letting these events happen in my name. In short, I become complicit and responsible for the atrocities.

I sat in the cafe today, reading, and trying to think of a hook. How to get at the heart of this conflict? I began to wonder how I would, were he old enough, explain this to my nephew. I imagined myself writing this beautiful child a letter, trying to explain why we do the things we do to each other. Explain, not as an excuse or apology, in a way his innocence would understand, and not be devastated. A tall order, to be sure.

I might begin this letter by arguing that each earthling on this planet is unique and beautiful, and fundamentally we defy classification, stereotype and logic. We are, non of us, born with anger in our minds, nor are we born racists, sexists or facists. To paraphrase Rousseau, we are born free of all this, it is not 'till later that we put on those chains. The point being, all of the physical and mental borders that exist between earthlings are pure constructions. They are not natural, nor are they necessary for our survival. We are, in a manner of speaking, free to cross them anytime, we just have to be able to see the other side for what it is, simply another way of doing things.

But the inquisitive mind might ask, then why do they exist, these borders and prejudices? This is the difficult part to answer, and as a caveat, I remind you that I am also someone subject to these tendencies and constructions, thus my answer, sure to be incorrect in someone's mind, is but my experience, tainted by my own ideological lens. I believe the answer to this question lies in our notion of power and to some degree, our belief in religious dogma and nationalism. Power, to give woefully short definition, is the ability to impose yourself on someone else without the use of physical coercion (the point in which weapons are introduced, power becomes terror and violence). An individual or an idea is only powerful so long as you go along with them or it. There is nothing inherent about power, and it can be taken away at any moment. Our problem has been, historically, that we value power as an attribute in Men (I chose to add gender here fully aware of what it implies), not as something to be fearful of. We do not recognize the fact that in consenting to an individuals power, we are in fact giving up our own power to that person. We are saying, "I am willing to let you control my fate and make my decisions for me".

This is our choice to make, and we do not have to make it that way. We can say no any time, though it is the more, much more, difficult choice, and often leads to extreme forms of violence. As I mentioned above, the moment power employs weapons to ensure its hegemony, it is corrupted and becomes violence. Unfortunately, when power is threatened, the response tends to be a violent one. When people stand up and say no! power is threatened. In some sense, this is precisely what happened in 2006 when the people of Gaza rejected Fatah and elected Hamas. They were not voting for terrorism, not for the destruction of the Israeli state, but they were simply saying no to a corrupt government that was failing them. Of course, by voting for Hamas, they unfortunately simply shifted the power from one side to the other, rather than reclaiming it for themselves. Tragically Hamas has also exploited this position to further its own goals, rather than really serve the voters.

The question of religious dogma and nationalism is really just an extension of the ideas I suggested above. Religion and national identity give people a sense of belonging to something, but the consent of the people means Religion and Nationalism have power. In demanding allegiance they create the physical and mental borders that lie at the root of conflict. They create unity in opposition to difference. This means we define ourselves by what we are not: I am American because I am not Palestinian, French, Canadian or Russian, etc... Furthermore, to consent to this position of being American (for example) we simultaneously reject all other possible identities. Rejection is then a suggestion that these other experiences are some how less relevant, less good. Thus we are willing to go to war, to crush those who are different. In short, the power of religious and national identity is in its ability to convince us of its importance, superiority, territorial claim and power. We are meant to believe that we are not safe without such subscriptions: the unfaithful end up in hell, or as Canadian citizens!

So, to my dear nephew I would say, there is war in the Levant because both Israel and Hamas are afraid of losing their power, they are afraid of each other, and the way they can convince themselves to remain loyal, to their respective ideologies, is to directly confront the other, to prove that they are superior, and in the event of a defeat, they can play the victim card. I don't support Hamas, but I don't support Israel either. I support peace. I think war is unnatural and always unnecessary. The people of the Levant should do the same. They should reclaim their individual power, and realize, in doing so, they can co-exist. They are simply kept apart by artificial notions of power, faith and national identity. There is a choice, there is always a choice.

For the fact that there is always a choice, the situation is all the more tragic.

Conversation

"... and then she said 'so you are defending yourselves?'"

What?

"No listen. At each point where the conflict was being explained to her, she was asking questions: trying to explore the point."

He stutters when he gets close to the point. I'd never noticed it before, but I think he has always done it. I'm at the kitchen window, smoking a cigarette, with A. He is telling me about a conversation between his professor and a friend of ours. Gaza is the huge elephant in the room and we are both watching too much news. Rakia is actively dampening my spirits even further.

We finish smoking and sit down at the table. I tell him I haven't been able to write about the conflict. I excuse myself by claiming fatigue: fatigue from hearing about Israelis assault Palestinians; fatigue from trying to figure out why this was happening.

"There is just too much information to digest. we can spend two hundred years studying this one conflict." he said.

Yeah, and how can you absorb anything, organize it and synthesize it in this context?

"you cannot. you just end up ignoring it."

Ignore it. Just like everyone else.

But this is how it has been for 2000 years in the Levant. In order to give one group of people 'their' land, you have to displace another. I'm fatigued by the seeming endlessness of the conflict. Hamas has a taste of power, and, to return to Schmitt's thesis, they defined themselves and rose to power in opposition to Israel. Their very existence is tied to continued conflict with Israel. So, what would happen if Israel did return to the original borders? Would the conflict end? Not likely. Hamas would then need to find a new reason to keep themselves and the Palestinians mobilized, and keep the votes coming in. They would then change the Mantra to "Europe is the one who fucked the Jews, why didn't they give up their land to compensate?" 

But even if that did happen, and Israel was established in Bayern. There there would be Bavarian displaced peoples fighting the Jews, and imagine the Neo-Nazi movement in Germany. To give someone something, someone else has to lose it.

"And what about Roma? Should we just give them part of India? Why not?" His tone is ironic.

Yeah, imagine that.

The only light on in the apartment is the energy saving light bulb in the kitchen, where we are sitting. It seems to reflect our mood; or perhaps our mood reflects it? In any case, its not a nice light, it is too stark. We fall into silence for a moment. He is fidgeting, picking away at my laptop.

"You seem depressed?" he asks me.

At this point, I'm probably also just tired. I haven't slept well for days. But yes, I am. I didn't think it was going to hurt this much. I'm going to bed.

"oh, ok."

I crawl onto the couch in my room and slip under the blanket with History of the Present. I read about Ash's tour of seven Eastern Block cities. He is a fine writer and lays bare the, at times, silly divisions in this corner of the world. I fall asleep around 2 am.

Voice from Gaza

This email was forwarded to me by a friend, and it is featured on the Al Jazeera website.

This is the fifth day of the Israeli military operation on Gaza called 'Cast Lead'. Horror and destruction is everywhere. There are things that are not well reported in the news, feelings!! I have three children, a daughter Nour who is 14, a son Adam who is 9 and another son Ali who is 3. We live in an area in Gaza city that used to be described 'safe'. Nowhere is safe anymore. My children cannot sleep and I cannot help them. The feelings of helplessness and guilt (which always accompanies your inability to protect or at least comfort your children) are stronger than those of fear and horror. My daughter was telling a journalist on the phone yesterday that she had never got the real support she sought from me whenever there was a shelling. I was shocked!! I felt so guilty because my daughter felt my fears. But is it not normal to be scared after all?! Adam is asthmatic and he uses a ventilator. Due to the stress and the pollution resulting from rubbles, he is getting more frequent asthma attacks and there is no electricity for his ventilator. Each time he has an attack, we have to put the generator on for him and then put it off. There is no enough fuel to keep the generator on and we have no idea till when this is going to continue.  Ali has no idea what this is all about. All what he does is scream in fear whenever there is a bombing and when it is over, he uses his imagination to tell stories about 'qasef - bombing'. The kids do not sleep. We spend our days and nights in one single room with my sister in law and her daughter. You feel the stress and fear. You can see it on everyone's face.

Last night I was thinking about all this. I do not want anyone of my family to get hurt and I thought if anything should happen, I pray it happens to me and not my kids. Then I thought I do not want my kids to see me torn into pieces. The scenes on tv of people killed are so terrifying and I know what it means for children to see such thing.  What I really want is for all this to end and for me and my kids to live just like anyone else in the world. I want to get rid of the feeling of guilt towards my kids. Was I mistaken to have kids in the first place? Do not I have the right to be a mother? But am I really doing a good mother's 'job' in being the source of comfort for my kids. I know it is not my fault but I knew also that I live in Gaza and Gaza has never been a healthy environment to raise children. Was I that selfish to think about my own feeling to want to be a mother and ignoring my expected failure to protect my kids?

On Writing

On writing, and Human Alienation.

Why write? Tonight I'm dwelling on why I do this, why it is the one constant in my life? Currently this frame of mind is influenced by the Israeli incursion into Gaza (perpetually playing in the background via BBC), a recent viewing of the Reaganite film Field of Dreams, and a specific kind of loneliness that comes from the realization that the person you love has thrown you out with the bath water.

So why write? I write because I am; because I live; because I feel; because I love; because I desire; because I hate; and because I can. But what does that mean? I write because I see myself as a protagonist in the story of my life, and because every experience has meaning to it. Since life, specifically earthling life, is short in the context of this planet and universe, we have only a few opportunities to make something of significance out of our lives, to understand what our lives mean, and to give those who will come after us a chance to learn from us. Unlike Kevin Costner however, I am not seeking some reconciliation with my Dad, and unlike America, I am not seeking to (re)create a past that never actually existed.

Rather I want to make a life for myself that has a purpose. But this is not some drive to 'fit in' with the majority, or to create some kind of Utopian society; instead it is a completely personal quest. Most likely the only person who will benefit from this writing, and the sense created out of my experiences, is me. The process of writing, to me, is similar to cleaning up my room. The 'clutter' lying all around my floor is experience and information. Writing, like cleaning up, is the opportunity to organize these experiences in a way that makes them accessible and meaningful. I can order and catalogue my life, assign emotion and significance, so I show myself what I want and what I don't want.

Experience is like refined notes and raw sounds; it allows us to define and test the limits of our identity so that we can find the path most appealing and comforting to us. I fear this is something that most people do not do however (writing and synthesizing their experience), and as a result never get a good sense of why: why they do what they do. There is, of course, the other extreme, which is the one closer to my state-of-mind. That is, those who are committed to the possibility of finding significance and meaning from experience, ultimately never settle on their own identity, busy as they are being critical and engaged in the search for "what it all means". There is a very real danger in being so obsessed with the search, that you miss the meaning. Thus, it is equally important to have your own conclusions. These conclusions are personal, and can always be, and maybe should be, revised. Like everything else in life, these conclusions are contextual, and subject to change.

In truth, perhaps as the result of experience and influences, I also write because I find myself somewhat alienated from the world. It is an uncomfortable experience to be sure, to be alienated, and thus I try to counter it by seeking out things, activities, theories, and dogmas, which will help me stop feeling this way. But as much as the alienated individual is "unhappy", I think they are, more than a powerful politician or a rich tycoon, the earthlings who move us all forward. Maybe I say this because I feel myself as a kindred spirit, but I also think that artists and philosophers have done more good than all others (good in the 'greater good' sense, but I would credit kind individuals and teachers with doing much 'localized' good). Writing, in the context of what I have written above, is how I am trying to deal with my alienation from the rest of the world. I seeing it as that which helps me deal with everything, from the daily grid to the war in Gaza.

Writing is also a practical activity: if I never get paid for it, that is ok. I won't be tearing up some large acreage of my corn field to create my text, it only takes up a tiny portion of cyber-space. I can also do my writing any time I feel like it, thus it can be fit-in between activities that are economically beneficial; I can write on the train, during lunch, in the evening, early in the morning, and maybe during the quiet moments at work. I can write in public forums, or I can write privately. It is, as my dear friend Simon would say, cheap and cheerful.

There is no moral or ethical value system assigned to this experience, nor is there a judgment of where one will end up at the end of this journey. In one sense I am suggesting that we each have a unique path to follow, and we each must find the thing that makes us happy and fulfilled. Now, there is some ambiguity in such a statement, and means you might argue this justifies people following a path taht creates pain and suffering for others. Maybe someone finds fulfillment in going to war? I see the argument, but I reject it. As I said, I am not moralizing, and I am not suggesting that the path to fulfillment must fit within a certain moral or ethical code. But I would suggest that anyone who takes the time to explore their identity, to try on various masks, to critically view their most mundane and most extraordinary experiences, will rarely make violence a key part of their life. This type of self-exploration and discovery takes an open mind and a profound respect (maybe even love) for others. It takes a bit of courage, and willingness to interact with a huge diversity of people.

How then, after all that, can you still what to see harm come to the others? How can you, after witnessing the beautiful and the tragic, decide the tragic is better? I don't think you can. If you do, then you have not reached an understanding of yourself in the context of everything else.

Narcissism Day

As I was trying to understand the orthodox holidays coming up in Serbia, a friend and I came up with the idea that I should convert to orthodox so that I can take advantage of these days. The 6th of January is Christmas Eve, and the 7th is the New Year, then the Orthodox also get their Slava, or Patron Saint day (which is another non-work day). So, the thinking was, I could convert to Orthodox today, and then I would get most of this coming week off, plus a Slava at some point. Then next December I could convert to being a catholic and take their Christmas dates off, then in January... you see the pattern.

But then I thought, what days off does an Atheist get? Being one myself (unless you count Daoism as a religion), of course I get all the christian holidays, because everyone in the west gets those. But is that really appropriate? What if I want to work those days? I mean, I should not be forced to participate in a religious festival that I do not believe in. Of course, there is the argument that Christmas is much more commercial now, and has become a tradition somewhat disconnected from its religious origin. Well, I agree that it is much more commercial now, but I think that religion is still very much entwined into it. For example, I know many people who only attend Church on Christmas and Easter; there are all the religious icons on the Christmas tree; in secular Germany, most people still put up a model of the manger in which Christ was born.

So, what is an atheist to do? We conceived that the atheist should get two days (at Christmas and at Easter) for self-worship. Call them Narcissism Days, and fill them with many unhealthy, carnal activities. In this way, much like the Christian/Orthodox holidays, they would still reflect our Pagan heritage; they would achieve the same function of getting us to channel this desire for chaos and sin into a few days each year; they would add to the diversity of human experience... and the spread of disease!

Well, on a more serious note, it does beg the question of how a culture, or religious community respects the alternative or minority religions and faiths. Certainly, no-one minds a day off, so I don't mean to suggest that the office shouldn't close on religious days, but maybe, if it is closing for one, then it should close for all? The alternative is that you allow people to chose whether they want to work or not. This, to some degree, is the practice at my place of employment: most of the Serbs were working over the Western Christmas (24th and 25th), but will off on the 6th and 7th. But my employer is also in an interesting position of being a non-Serbian organization, with a mix of people working for it. But I wonder if orthodox people in Germany can work the 24th and 25th of December and then take the 6th and 7th off (without using personal days)?

I do believe that this is starting to become the practice in a few businesses (I have heard as much from American businesses who employ Muslims), which is a good thing. Anyway, something to ponder I suppose.

Bombing your way to peace

Being the New Year, I took time to clean house here. Cleaning out things seems to have a therapeutic nature, particularly at a time when other parts of your life begin to weigh heavy on the mind and soul. It is also worth noting that the apartment is at its cleanest since September. Well, on to other, more pressing matters.

"Refined notes..." is a reference to Chapter 2 of the Daodejing and speaks to the seeming contradictions in life, which in fact complement each other. The full poem is to the right of this post. Why chose this concept? It relates to the thesis I wrote for the USM Honors program in 2008 (which is also the raison d'etre of this blog), with the central paradox of an activity (soccer) which simultaneously unites and divides its participants. It relates to our lives, and the earthlings who are full of contradictions, like those working for large international organizations who support national self-determination; or those who leave their lovers and then feel regret and jealously when the lover moves on.

Serbia, my current home, is no exception to this paradox: a strong feeling of nationalism runs through this country, yet 70% of the population want Serbia be in the E.U. Serbia, where people have historically been looked down upon by Europeans, look down upon their minority cultures. These contradictions are not unique to Serbia however. All nations and states have these contradictions: In America, people drive SUV's to their environmental activism groups; Israel seeks peace by initiating war, for example.

As I see it, these contradictions are a complement in the sense that, without one, the other would not/could not exist. As we seek to understand the world, we need opposites to help define a thing. Of course, this begs a good number of questions: does this justify war? How can peace exist without war? How can we love without hate? Etc... The problem here is that it suggests we cannot move beyond such negative experiences as war, or violence. I won't pretend to have a cleaver answer to this conundrum. I will say that maybe we don't have to experience war, to desire and have peace; maybe it is enough that we know about it through history; that we have a concept of what it is. We can define peace (the absence of war, the non-violent coexistence of earthlings) because we know what war is. We can define love, because we know what hate is (this one is certainly a lot more tricky).

In any case, the entries of this blog will reflect the contradictions of the world as I experience them.

Sans titre

As I said, welcome to the brand new world. It is January 1, a nice quiet day in Belgrade, cold, but not to much, and perfect for writing and thinking, and maybe reading from Tolkien later...

But I wish the news were better today, not just from the real world, but also from my universe. I woke up, sans geulle de bois, and promptly deleted all the music from Dan in my ITunes, by accident; then two thoroughly depressing emails were waiting in my inbox, leaving me with little inspiration and a big lump in my throat. So I took a long hot shower, had a shave and went for a two hour walk around town. Now, I am drinking Arabic Coffee with cardamon and Miso soup. Already the world is looking a bit happier. But my friends, take it from me, if you are going to send bad news to someone, try to avoid doing it on January 1!

I have given myself a good talking to, following Dylan's advice, and now I am focusing on the sage advice once given to me: all these feelings are part of you and your life; let them wash over you and feel them. These too, shall pass (paraphrased). Looking back over the last few weeks, it is clear that the 'events' affected me more than it should have, and has brought some self-doubt creeping back into my bones. I haven't been spinning like this for a good long while, and it is so uncomfortable. But equally, i am blessed now with experience, and have developed my writing into a vent for personal experience. I know that this too, shall pass.

~~

The etymology of the word idiot, according to Aleks, comes from the Greek, and means: he or she who does not know. As we were talking about this last night, I thought that if it is true, that it has its origin in Greek, we are misusing the word. Well, I want to argue here that we are. Going back to Socrates and Plato the Greek, I am reminded that it was a virtue to know that one does not know. This is not to suggest that ignorance is bliss, only that with the understanding that all we 'know' is somehow subjective, can we have an open mind. What does it mean to be knowledgeable in a world so full of diversity that after thousands of years of living and seeking, we have yet to truly scratch the surface of the secrets of this universe?

Am I knowledgeable? I know a few things, but after almost 4 years of intensive study, reading, discourse and field experience, I am perpetually surprised by the subject of politics. I know that if I read a book a week for the rest of my life, on this subject, I will not exhaust all the knowledge out there.  So, how can I claim to know? Particularly now, at this tender age? I cannot, and because I don't make such claims, I will always be open to more. This is part of the reason dialogue is so important.

In our world today, we seem to have the opposite impression of knowledge. It seems to me, there is an impression that there a few fundamental things to learn, which have an unshakable truth to them, and once you grasp these, then you have power and all that comes with that status. But it is not real, only perceived, and most likely, that knowledge will fail you at some point. If you rely too much on your expertise, you run a real danger of having it all collapse out from under you. But if you remain aware that there is always more to know, that truth and knowledge are never static things, you can always find solutions to a problem.

Plato and Socrates were not the first to suggest this though. We find similar lines in the Dao, where Lao Tzu suggests that knowing that one does not know, is knowing at its best.

Friends: I am an idiot.