A strong conviction that something must be done is the parent of many bad measures.
Daniel Webster
******************
Hello Stuart
******************
Watchman, tell us of the night.
(I write because I must.)
I was more than mildly miffed at some parents who, when the World Trade Center was attacked, complained to the television networks for showing photos and videos of the destruction. Those parents didn't want their children to see what happened for fear they would grow up with a warped attitude about life and the world. Innocence is a beautiful thing, but how long can it go unchallenged?
When I was a child, before the era of television, we got our visual news from newsreels. When you went to a movie you got newsreels. I saw Hitler swaggering around, German troops marching in rank and file, bombs dropping and buildings being blown up. But I also saw the poor, emaciated prisoners of the concentration camps, some so weak from starvation they couldn't even sit up. I saw the blank looks of horror and despair. I saw the piles of corpses.
When you went to a movie you had to watch those things, you had no choice. No one was putting their hands over my eyes to prevent me from seeing them. (Ironically, and perhaps therapeutically, there was also always a cartoon.)
So maybe my point of view about the world has been shaped, altered, warped if you must, by having witnessed those heinous films and photos. But, if nothing else, it has given me a sturdier view of evil when I see it and the instinct to recognize the seeds of evil among the still falsely innocent, "unwarped" people of power. For example, those who compared President Obama with Adolf Hitler have absolutely no idea who Hitler was. They never watched those films.
I grew up in an unhappy home with no father and a verbally abusive mother. I made adjustments and survived. Now I worry about the child next door. The two adults, one of whom is her mother, fight frequently. The little girl cries and screams "No. No." They pay no attention to her except to scold her. She has no friends. She never goes out to play. No one visits her.
I am their closest neighbor. I often feel that I should do something, but I don't see what possible measure I can take that would be positive and not cause more trouble. If and until I decide what to do, I can ultimately trust, as I trusted myself, that she will grow up, make the proper adjustments to her lopsided life and survive.
DB - The Vagabond's Journey
Never give up.
Showing posts with label innocence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label innocence. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Friday, July 16, 2010
Turn Back O Man
Experience which destroys innocence also leads us back to it.
James Baldwin
******************
Sometimes I perceive living as one huge elliptical orbit around wisdom and self-knowledge. One year we find ourselves doing something or thinking something we would never dream of in another year. Just when we think we know ourselves circumstances turn things around and we find responses we didn't know we had. What is it that takes us on these strange journeys, how do we know when we've reached the limits and what is it that turns us back? Those are questions to ponder.
It may be that life becomes too repetitive. We get bored or depressed with the "same old-same old" no matter how good it is and we start looking for something to spice things up a little bit. Maybe we take up a hobby or some extra activity that gives us pleasure and makes the "daily grind" less draining. Let's say you take up golf. That's a good choice. There's some exercise, It's a target sport which gives you the sense of challenge and accomplishment. Soon your friends are saying they never thought of you as a golfer and you have to admit you never thought of yourself as one. But there you are playing golf every weekend weather permitting. But maybe the weather doesn't permit and you had to miss your Sunday game. But if you leave early from work on Friday you can make up for it. And the following Friday you do the same thing just in case it rains on Saturday, which it doesn't. Soon you're leaving work early on other days and playing all weekend.
How do we know when we've reached our limits? You can go on making excuses to yourself and your colleagues for a while. But one Monday morning you come to work with your clubs ready to leave early because it's a beautiful day, and no one is talking to you. How come? It seems that you forgot and left a job undone and the fellow down the hall who wanted to get home to take care of his wife who wasn't feeling well had to stay late to straighten out the mess you left. That is what might happen if you're lucky. If you aren't you might come in and find someone else at your desk.
What is it that turns us back? It's a wake up call. What drew you to this job in the first place? And isn't it the job that paid for the golf clubs and your membership in the local clubhouse? What will you do if you lose the job? You won't be playing golf if you have to spend all your time looking for another job. It's time to stop focusing on the hole and start looking at the doughnut.
So you straighten things out with the boss and your fellow workers and settle down to being a good conscientious worker. Everything is fine, your life is good again. Then one afternoon on a sunny Saturday a buddy takes you fishing. And there you go again.
Is golf a sin? Of course not. Is fishing a sin? No, but anything carried to such an extreme that it interferes with the harmony of your life is certainly something that punishes itself and that is what a sin is.
What if instead of golf it becomes a behavior, like bullying, criticizing, belittling, carping, resenting, hating or some other disgusting action? What will it take for you to wake up to yourself?
Or what if it's gambling, alcohol or drugs, the really habitual self destructions? How far away from the center of your life, the harmony of your life, are you going to get before you turn back, o man. Some people never do. Whether they're gold addicts or drug addicts they just fly off into outer space and burn themselves up.
But it's those moments of realization and fear that you are about to go too far that, if heeded, can turn you around and head you back to regain your innocence. And it's a great feeling when it happens.
DB - The Vagabond
******************
SUMMER QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
Who are the 2 (two) most important people alive today? Why?
5 responses so far.
dbdacoba@aol.com
Thank you.
DB
********************
James Baldwin
******************
Sometimes I perceive living as one huge elliptical orbit around wisdom and self-knowledge. One year we find ourselves doing something or thinking something we would never dream of in another year. Just when we think we know ourselves circumstances turn things around and we find responses we didn't know we had. What is it that takes us on these strange journeys, how do we know when we've reached the limits and what is it that turns us back? Those are questions to ponder.
It may be that life becomes too repetitive. We get bored or depressed with the "same old-same old" no matter how good it is and we start looking for something to spice things up a little bit. Maybe we take up a hobby or some extra activity that gives us pleasure and makes the "daily grind" less draining. Let's say you take up golf. That's a good choice. There's some exercise, It's a target sport which gives you the sense of challenge and accomplishment. Soon your friends are saying they never thought of you as a golfer and you have to admit you never thought of yourself as one. But there you are playing golf every weekend weather permitting. But maybe the weather doesn't permit and you had to miss your Sunday game. But if you leave early from work on Friday you can make up for it. And the following Friday you do the same thing just in case it rains on Saturday, which it doesn't. Soon you're leaving work early on other days and playing all weekend.
How do we know when we've reached our limits? You can go on making excuses to yourself and your colleagues for a while. But one Monday morning you come to work with your clubs ready to leave early because it's a beautiful day, and no one is talking to you. How come? It seems that you forgot and left a job undone and the fellow down the hall who wanted to get home to take care of his wife who wasn't feeling well had to stay late to straighten out the mess you left. That is what might happen if you're lucky. If you aren't you might come in and find someone else at your desk.
What is it that turns us back? It's a wake up call. What drew you to this job in the first place? And isn't it the job that paid for the golf clubs and your membership in the local clubhouse? What will you do if you lose the job? You won't be playing golf if you have to spend all your time looking for another job. It's time to stop focusing on the hole and start looking at the doughnut.
So you straighten things out with the boss and your fellow workers and settle down to being a good conscientious worker. Everything is fine, your life is good again. Then one afternoon on a sunny Saturday a buddy takes you fishing. And there you go again.
Is golf a sin? Of course not. Is fishing a sin? No, but anything carried to such an extreme that it interferes with the harmony of your life is certainly something that punishes itself and that is what a sin is.
What if instead of golf it becomes a behavior, like bullying, criticizing, belittling, carping, resenting, hating or some other disgusting action? What will it take for you to wake up to yourself?
Or what if it's gambling, alcohol or drugs, the really habitual self destructions? How far away from the center of your life, the harmony of your life, are you going to get before you turn back, o man. Some people never do. Whether they're gold addicts or drug addicts they just fly off into outer space and burn themselves up.
But it's those moments of realization and fear that you are about to go too far that, if heeded, can turn you around and head you back to regain your innocence. And it's a great feeling when it happens.
DB - The Vagabond
******************
SUMMER QUESTION
(This is not a contest.)
Who are the 2 (two) most important people alive today? Why?
5 responses so far.
dbdacoba@aol.com
Thank you.
DB
********************
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Alchemical Advantage
I think the anguish of realizing our own vanity is the purgation for restoring our innocence.
DB - The Vagabond
*********************
Most people want to believe that their lives are important, interesting, colorful and worth talking about. But what if you aren't poor enough to brag about it or rich enough to flaunt it? What if you are neither beautiful enough to be admired nor ugly enough to be shunned? What if you aren't intelligent enough to be consulted, stupid enough to be pitied, old enough to be respected, young enough to be pampered, ill enough or healthy enough? What if your life falls between the cracks of the special?
I was recently in a discussion with someone about how poor we were growing up and hence how generous we are in giving money and time to help the less fortunate. I suddenly realized that we were in a competition. It was the I-was-poorer-than-you contest. I stopped and thought how pointless it was. Why brag about poverty?
Furthermore I thought how fruitless it was to try to value myself in anyone's eyes by how much money I give to help save the whales and feed the children. Such contributions should be anonymous anyway, if possible. Sometimes contributions are given out of charity and compassion and sometimes out of conscience or for tax reasons. It doesn't matter. I don't care if my 15 bucks goes to help defray administrative costs or puts a bowl of beans down in front of some unfortunate African boy. And don't tell me about some charitable organizations being less honest than others. That's a simple matter of research. I trust the charity to put the money where it's needed. You buy the beans.
Look in the bright daylight as if you've never looked at yourself before and you will see an embarrassing array of affectations, pretensions and illusions. justifications and erroneous zones. It's frightening.
I think my life is important to me and perhaps to a few other people. But why should I think the words I write, the pictures I paint, the music and poetry that come from my heart belong to me. If I didn't write the words or paint the pictures someone else would, in different forms, of course, but the messages would be given because they exist in the universal bank of ideas. I recognize myself as a messenger, a conduit for some of those ideas through the telegraph of creative imagination. As an actor I was frequently in awe of the great writing the marvel of theatre was giving me the right and privilege to speak on the stage. When the applause comes some actors forget that the beauty came off the pen of a gifted playwright. And so does the audience.
I was doing a production in East Hampton, New York written by a favorite playwright, Joe Pintauro. After the show had been running for a while the two of us went out for lunch at a well known seafood restaurant in the area. As we were leaving we passed a table of four people near the door. The all applauded me. So I introduced them to Joe. They were equally impressed with him.
The alchemy of theatre works this way. A writer gets an idea from the universal bank and turns it into literature. The actor takes the literature and adding to it the skill of the performing artist turns it into events. An audience comes to watch the events and turns them back into ideas. And so on. And all through the process the beauty and greatness is loaned to the participants from the universal bank.
If you successfully rake over all the foibles of self illusions, clean out the shed of pretensions and throw out the many masks hanging in your closet it will be humbling and depressing. But eventually you will get to the point where you are free to laugh at yourself, at what you've been and what you thought you were. When that happens you are ready to be invited back into your own innocence.
DB
DB - The Vagabond
*********************
Most people want to believe that their lives are important, interesting, colorful and worth talking about. But what if you aren't poor enough to brag about it or rich enough to flaunt it? What if you are neither beautiful enough to be admired nor ugly enough to be shunned? What if you aren't intelligent enough to be consulted, stupid enough to be pitied, old enough to be respected, young enough to be pampered, ill enough or healthy enough? What if your life falls between the cracks of the special?
I was recently in a discussion with someone about how poor we were growing up and hence how generous we are in giving money and time to help the less fortunate. I suddenly realized that we were in a competition. It was the I-was-poorer-than-you contest. I stopped and thought how pointless it was. Why brag about poverty?
Furthermore I thought how fruitless it was to try to value myself in anyone's eyes by how much money I give to help save the whales and feed the children. Such contributions should be anonymous anyway, if possible. Sometimes contributions are given out of charity and compassion and sometimes out of conscience or for tax reasons. It doesn't matter. I don't care if my 15 bucks goes to help defray administrative costs or puts a bowl of beans down in front of some unfortunate African boy. And don't tell me about some charitable organizations being less honest than others. That's a simple matter of research. I trust the charity to put the money where it's needed. You buy the beans.
Look in the bright daylight as if you've never looked at yourself before and you will see an embarrassing array of affectations, pretensions and illusions. justifications and erroneous zones. It's frightening.
I think my life is important to me and perhaps to a few other people. But why should I think the words I write, the pictures I paint, the music and poetry that come from my heart belong to me. If I didn't write the words or paint the pictures someone else would, in different forms, of course, but the messages would be given because they exist in the universal bank of ideas. I recognize myself as a messenger, a conduit for some of those ideas through the telegraph of creative imagination. As an actor I was frequently in awe of the great writing the marvel of theatre was giving me the right and privilege to speak on the stage. When the applause comes some actors forget that the beauty came off the pen of a gifted playwright. And so does the audience.
I was doing a production in East Hampton, New York written by a favorite playwright, Joe Pintauro. After the show had been running for a while the two of us went out for lunch at a well known seafood restaurant in the area. As we were leaving we passed a table of four people near the door. The all applauded me. So I introduced them to Joe. They were equally impressed with him.
The alchemy of theatre works this way. A writer gets an idea from the universal bank and turns it into literature. The actor takes the literature and adding to it the skill of the performing artist turns it into events. An audience comes to watch the events and turns them back into ideas. And so on. And all through the process the beauty and greatness is loaned to the participants from the universal bank.
If you successfully rake over all the foibles of self illusions, clean out the shed of pretensions and throw out the many masks hanging in your closet it will be humbling and depressing. But eventually you will get to the point where you are free to laugh at yourself, at what you've been and what you thought you were. When that happens you are ready to be invited back into your own innocence.
DB
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