Archive for September, 2010

I survived 9/11

September 12, 2010

It’s September 12 and I’m still writing.

I’m struggling with purpose, or the idea of “a-point-to…”

But I’m starting to understand writing as something communal, not necessarily communicative; more present (or presentation, maybe) than persuasive. This is an endless pursuit, and I, sometimes, feel pointless, but I also question this feeling/reaction. Why is an endless discussion pointless? Even the question reiterates a logic out of which the question itself arises. An endless discussion becomes multi-directional. In our culture being without direction is a problem to be solved. And yet, as well or in addition, we are accustomed to fear the long and winding roads of exploratory dialogue. This fear may keep us from understanding each other and the world we live in.

If there is anything that can be labeled [truth] it will not be communicated with a quote-length or bumper-sticker length unit of thought. Even a book-length unit of thought will fall short of the understanding we call [truth]. My guess is that a theory of living well demands a unit of thought measured in years of action. And this unit of thought, to carry understanding, will not exist in isolation, I’m guessing it will rise out of a community of thinkers (teachers/learners/friends and neighbours (gardeners?)).

I’d like to make a few notes, make marks of a few conversations, both live and on-line, that happened yesterday.

The first is an old friend’s facebook status:

“The mass is forever vulgar, because it can’t distinguish between its own original feelings and the feelings which are diddled into existence by the exploiter.” – D.H. Lawrence.

And today, September 11, is his birthday….

The second took place on facebook over a couple days. I have a problem with the word detachment, maybe with spiritualism in general. I like the melancholy science: the teaching of the good life that makes distinctions. It may be just language choice but I do prefer a language where one can make a distinction between what one feels about an event, and the event. The feeling is distinct from the event.

This language is different but can mean the same as detachment. I guess the problem I have with the word detachment is that it can remove one’s consciousness from the sphere of the other or the event, and I prefer to remain within the sphere of the other. I prefer to remain attached yet aware of distinctions. My working model for the good life is motherly love. Can you see how the idea of viewing the world with a spirit of detachment might make me sad?

The third conversation I’d like to mark took place at a block party, a neighbourhood writer/gardener and I were talking and I tried to discuss the “happening-to” quality of consciousness. We do make choices, but I wonder if we have that much control over our consciousness. If we were rational consciousnesses I’d like to think that we’d have more esteem for each other.

I told a story of a change in my conscious that I was aware of, but did not control, did not choose. My change from consciousness of the spirit world to conscious of a world without spirit happened to me. It wasn’t the result of a deliberation of facts and arguments. It happened to me in an instant. I made no choice.

The way I pronounced that there are no ghosts, I think I came off as a truth freak. She said, “So now that you’ve found a concrete truth you’re spreading the word?” But can you imagine a street corner preacher whose message consisted of the sole fact that there are no ghosts? What are you supposed to do with that truth?

That exchange has got me thinking. What are you supposed to do with truths? I guess that without the shimmering of ghosts you can see the world more clearly. Without the veil of spirits you can see dirt more clearly. Without spirit, the idea of revolution loses a lot of its emotional charge. Our feet feel more firmly planted in the soil, real soil, the dirt out of which our food grows. The digging of dirt, turning the soil, and the seasonal quality of living connect more surely. And somehow the need to justify, or be understood by others pales to the clarity of dirt.

The last conversation I want to note also happened on facebook. I’ve often been amazed by the honesty of people on Facebook. The media presents a picture of the world politicians want us to see. Most of us are aware of the difference between what we read and what we see, but rarely does the systemic ethic come across in official sources. I removed the name, because it’s really not that important. This comment expresses something honest about 9/11 and what’s since transpired. Children are actually dying to sustain our way of life. If you see this clearly can you not want change?

[name removed]: We can’t place our modern thinking and morality on cultures that have not evolved yet. No one in the western world would wish for war, but just remember how we acted 1000 years ago and then you can understand their mindset. The danger is if we do nothing, then we have forgotten our responsibility as caretakers of the world. The sustainment of our way of life for our children and future generations will cost someones child’s life.”