Back from Vacation

Being home is depressing.

I took my first vacation in nearly three years, and I loved it.  Jill and I were out biking the Great Allegheny Passage, a trail that runs 150 miles from Pittsburgh, PA to Cumberland, MD.  I’ve been spending much time on the wheel, and it brings me peace.

Being in the country, I found something my life here is lacking.  The world out there makes more sense to me.  The pace of life may be slower, but people listen, can leave their doors unlocked, breathe fresh air, and seem to have purpose.

Presently, I live in a house with no other purpose than to pay a mortgage that is already a challenge and associated bills that continue to rise.  I find myself wondering why.  I find myself believing that giving up these material things might actually bring joy, freedom, and a chance to do something with the means I make.

At some point, I’ll post a happy recollection of the places I visited.  But for now, I just find myself alone in a quiet house that feels less like home than it ever has.

Wondering and Wonders

I write far less than I should or than I would like.  It is a personal regret, but one that I make willingly as I’ve become pretty busy.

I remember a sense of helplessness when I was younger, thinking about how to make a difference in the world.  When you’re very young, those sorts of problems never occur to you because the only limits you truly face are those of your own imagination.  At some point, somewhere between childhood and adulthood, you become much more aware of society, expectations, and what you can and cannot achieve.  I fear we sometimes become too well versed in this and lose sight of our beliefs for our accomplishments.

I’m doing more than I ever thought I would or could.  Were I to stop for a moment and consider just how much I’m balancing, surely I would lose the capacity to even accomplish that.  I just wonder if it is enough, or if it matters.

I had a conversation last night about human nature.  We live in a world where we have capacity to effectuate great change, but I wonder if we have the capacity to not use that in a destructive way.  Nature itself is violent, in creation as well as destruction, but we have capacities and faculties for reason and empathy.  Could we become more than we are:  clans fighting clans, taking things, leaving nothing?  Sometimes we do, but is it enough?

I fight all the time for the freedom of men, even though they usually seem to be content to forego that particular endowment.  Perhaps I have become cynical, but liberty is a hard fight.  You have to believe people want to be free, responsible, and take care of themselves.  We have to be creatures of intellect as much as passion.  We have to think.

I don’t know.  Sometimes, I feel like the fight is one that only tarnishes the soul.  I’ve been able to withdraw before and find happiness in the simpler and more contemplative life.  I don’t know if that brought satisfaction, but it gave me a place to root myself, find peace, and the oneness that I think we all desire.

But I don’t have time to write.  Or enjoy, all that much.  I do the work of a hundred others who don’t care.  It doesnt make me right, or better, but it makes me exhausted.  And it makes me wonder.

Thoughts on Political Organizing

I am a somewhat improbable activist.  Although I’ve been very political for the entirety of my life, my nature is such that I’m good at reconciling people.  It’s a strange paradox as my own personal views are often quite extreme, but I think the very experience of being able to see, reconcile, and realize polarities allows me to be quite empathetic.

Politics frustrates me.  It’s actually similar to what I see with law:  incredible founts of knowledge but no accompanying wisdom.  There are so many people out there trying to accomplish things, but when you ask why and begin to probe about deeper motives, it becomes disheartening to learn their views are often incoherent.  Maybe I read too much into things as I know we are creatures of instinct at times, and also ones moved by sentiment.  But I think those very traits, admirable in so many ways, are toxic to politics.  When you begin to see government as a tool to accomplish social policy, you make the inherent trade-off of giving away a liberty in exchange for a comfortable accommodation.  The problem is that the room doesn’t stay free and when a new landlord comes, things change.

I’m not happy with my party.  I’m fairly convinced they don’t get it.  As I’ve had it explained to me by numerous people, the reason why many involved with the GOP believe that they suffer is because of lack of party unity.  It was because the Democrats were able to unite behind Obama that they kicked tail, and if we only put all our disagreements aside and did likewise, we’d be successful.  To quote the internet: epic fail.

Look, people need a reason to be motivated.  John McCain sure as hell wasn’t it.  The sycophantic Congress that pushed through a bailout that most people loathed isn’t either.  They want something different and something that has meaning.  I think our message should be simple: “Less Government, More You”.  Just that.  We don’t need complicated, and we don’t need to solve every problem.  We need to realize the solutions being made cause more problems than they solve.  We need a message, as a party, that can attract new people, that is more than Guns, God, and GI Joe.  It’s a loser.  Not because those views are altogether wrong, but because it brings nothing new to the table.

Americans fight for and love freedom.  They want someone to talk about having that, in a meaningful way.  We have to do that, or we will not only lose our elections, but honestly, we lose our reason for being.  A party without principle is a waste of time, and if they don’t change soon, they will voluntarily have relegated themselves to peripheral status.

I do my part.  I’m not the biggest networker or the best speaker.  Truthfully, I grew up as a shy, somewhat awkward kid, who never felt comfortable in crowds.  But I don’t want my conscience saying I could have done more.  Perhaps I am driven by fears that are too strong, but they are real to me.  It is why, despite my desire and actual situation of having walked away several times that I find I cannot look away.

If we don’t fix things, and if government continues to grow (and it will) and people resist (as they must), then sooner or later, blood will be spilled.  I know history a little too well, and if I can prevent that,  I will.  We deserve better.  It isn’t a partisan thing either.  Just remember, as a citizen, you have to keep an eye out for not just yourself, but also everyone.  Care.  Try.  That’s all it takes, if we all do our part.

focus

When things go poorly, I find the only way to keep going on is to focus upon what is simple.  When you’re in pain, you work to get better.  When you’re sick, you are content to just eat and hold down food.  When your life falls apart, I think you have to start slowly.

Breathe.  Deep breaths, in and out, and find your health.  With confidence, you find yourself in your being.  You move muscles and sinews, working them to find strength and vitality within.  Exercise hones the machine.  With confidence building, the mind comes back from the morass of doubt.

I sit down and think of simple things.  I reinvent myself, finding a new vocabulary:  maybe a new language to express ideas that still matter.  Time is both my enemy and my friend, but I cannot fight that battle.  I walk the path and think more.

I’m going to teach myself computers.  I am always a student, but instead of learning the languages of the past and the secrets they hide, I will try to learn the language of the future to reach out to those whom I have not yet met.  I have ideas and these are the best things I can offer, but I need the skills to promote them.  A website, a program, and a silken chain to link myself to whom I choose to be.

I can have my ambitions quashed.  I fail both regularly and spectacularly.  But, I also haven’t given up yet.  I know that some day will bring the chance for my ideas to come to light, and to make what I want of myself.  I don’t know where and when, but until then I’ll grow stronger.

Those days are ahead.  But for now, breathing, thinking, and building myself back will suffice.

Hitting the Wall

I am staring at the wall.  You sit there, and you look, seeing four corners.  You see the same paint, the same boundaries, and this space that seems closed and simply will not open.  It’s oppressive and comforting in its familiarity.  You know the walls, and though you might resent the denial of possibilities elsewhere, you find yourself appreciating what you know.  There is no threat here.

I am in my bedroom.  It is painted in rich umber tones, swirled with the red of a job that I did myself, with white accents and an antique wooden floor.  It looks slightly unfinished, as if to remind there is always more to be done.  I find swirls in the paint, specks on the window, and amidst the uniformity, uniqueness in a hundred different places.

I continue to stare.  Plans form and they disappear again.  I think back to all the people I almost was:  soldier, scholar, seminarian;  I wonder in past lives or other realms who Tom has become.  The act sometimes becomes the person, but not on the inside.  I think that is just a perpetual question we all ask, but it isn’t why.   “Why” is beyond our capacity, really.  We simply ask “Who?”.

I had a good plan for the future.  It has been shot to hell through my own fortune.  I am not sure that is destiny, but I choose to believe it is because I can accept that, and being able to come to terms with things is important.  I already spend too much time waiting.

I know, on some level, that what I have to do is start rolling the dice.  Although it sometimes makes me sick, I have a bit of the soul of the gambler and can calculate the odds.  I think I have to do something to release my passions and find that chance that allows me to be me.  We can never fully express ourselves, but I know now that far too little comes forward in what I do each day in this morning and afternoon hours.

Yes, I will not be going back to school.  I’m hurt, but strangely not disappointed.  I’m not an academic pedant.  I don’t sit by the sidelines, speaking of other people’s lives.  I learn from them and make my own.  I live.  In pain, I thrive.  In adversity, I succeed.  And now, I remember.

Looking Around

It seems to me that the only true tragedy is to live an insipid life.

My life, as ever, is pretty messed up.  I’m fine lest anyone worry, but there are always complications, confusion, and uncertainty.  But, in that messy conflagration, there’s also interesting times and the search for purpose.  I’m proud of myself in that I never really settled, even when it would be simpler or seem the right course.

I’ve made many mistakes in this life and paid for most of them, but they were usually worth it.  Life is an experiment; a chance for you to try things and find something new in each day and each moment.  There are so many forces out there that conspire to make into less than what you are and into what you supposedly should be.  Sometimes, they’re overwhelming.  It could be a well-intentioned lover, an overpreening boss, an anxious parent, or maybe an overactive self-conscious.  It is the search for security in a world where there is none.

I feel it too sometimes.  I think we all long to belong, to find our comfort zone, and we tell ourselves that we have found it in a hundred different places.  Whether that is true or not is up to each individual to decide, but my observation is that we often sell ourselves short, trying to believe that we are happy when we are not.  Maybe that’s realism.  Maybe that’s maturity.  Or maybe, it is a lie.

I cannot know these things, but I am learning about myself.  I am one of the few people I know who is able to be alone and not be upset about that.  It’s probably why I’m able to get more from my interactions with others.  I don’t look to pidgeonhole anyone, and I know that it will not be done to me.

I don’t know about tomorrow, but I plan on being myself and showing up.  It’s a good start.

Living as Me

What do you write when you feel the need to say everything, the desire to say nothing, and the inability to put anything into print?  It’s a compulsion to stare at a screen, lost in thought, unable to voice what is inside.

I think of fate and the cruel role she plays.  I can only talk of that, because I find events often move more by reasons beyond our control.  As someone who likes to imagine we are logical, rational, thoughtful beings, this annoys me to no end.  I want simply to be able to live as I would will, finding contentment within that, and enjoying a happy life.

Thus far, my life has been anything but, and coming to terms with that is killing me.  How does one live rationally in an irrational world?  How does one cope with feelings that do not make sense when you would rather discard them altogether?  I would have done so, and wanted to do so, but wasn’t allowed the option.  The illusion, perhaps, but without real resolution, no happy ending.

Is that all life is:  the happy or unhappy state of being that you have the good fortune to find by the accidents of chemistry, location, and proximity?  I fear that, and fear all that it would entail.  I hope for more.  I remember more.

I dream of a simpler place and time:  where a boy could be a boy, just want and wonder for something, and have that simple inarticulate desire be enough.  A sense of perpetual curiosity, not the people mashing that we experience.

I’m sad, I’m hurt, I’m angry, and in the end, I’m stuck.  And I hate myself for it.  Not for anything I could control, but for simply being me.  The one thing, and the only thing, that could have ruined me.  As ever, myself.

But I know one other thing.  You have to live for yourself.  You can live with someone else, but you have to live for yourself.  Only because you can’t run away from the asshole in the mirror.  Not this side of eternity, anyway.

Where do you go from there?

Verily

The funny thing about history is that it is entirely fabricated.  In our modern language, we’d think of that as being a lie and this is somewhat true.  However, a more appealing definition that is equally true is that it is created.  As an aspiring historian, it’s fascinating to me to observe and undertake the process of taking facts, fiting them into a system, and then proclaiming that I can pronounce what has happened.  A soothsayer of marginally related truths, bolstered by credentials worthy of any barrister or solicitor. :)

I enjoy this.  Maybe a historian is like a bard.  I’ve joked many times over the years that I think I would have been happy being a travelling troubadour, telling stories of mirth and merriment, importing knowledge both profound and profane.  The thoughts even rub off in my writing here as I’m being deliberately alliterative.  I am rambling, but I am enjoying it.

There is a ferment of ideas that we often lose.  We have an innate sense of curiosity as a child that gets stamped out by the burden of responsibility.  We are taught to care about certain things, much more so than ourselves or our well-being, and become lost in the immensity of all we choose to be.  Often, we don’t realize we made those choices, or more subtly, those choices were made years earlier in ways we didn’t perceive because of the nature of our society or our unique personal circumstances.  But we lose something precious and I am reclaiming it, bit by bit.

I’m thinking again, and finding both comfort and joy in that prospect.  Sometimes, we become some entrenched in a life that is limiting, maybe because of our physical needs such as survival, that we make a bargain to think less in order to live in less pain.  We act resolutely, accepting our fate, and count our blessings.  Each of us needs this at times, but not at the price of being able to consider things that matter.  I know I have made this deal on a few occasions, but each time I realize that I have, I’m awakened to this fact that I am a person so much greater than one who stamps papers and would get shat upon by the weight of the world’s peculiar indignities.

We all are.  We have few freedoms, I think, in this world, but we have thought still.  I hope everyone finds that for themselves, and allows themselves the power of imagination.  It is how we create this world, and the only way we might remake into something else, be that as individuals, or working together.  Reality is perception, and if history has taught me one thing, it is that the belief that something is true is far more powerful than any actual objective reality this side of oblivion.

A Hamster in His Wheel

I am out of shape.  I did not realized how true this was until I went for a bike ride today.

For the first time in what seems like an eternity, the weather here was actually warm enough for a sane person to venture going outside.  Being the intrepid traveler that I am, I decided to dust off my bike and go for a five mile ride up at North Park.  Now, in fairness to me, I will tell you that it is a very hilly area and not the easiest ride, but you can see already the prevarication that is a sign of an excuse.

I got my ass kicked.  I felt like puking after just a few miles, and I was struggling.  I can’t remember feeling so badly for years.  Years!!!

So, I’m working out again.  It needs to happen.  I don’t know how motivated I am, honestly, but it doesn’t matter.  Where pride fails, shame will work.  I don’t want to feel that helpless again.

Late Night Hits

I should not be awake at 2:16 on a night when I have work in the morning.  But, for some strange reason, I am.

Actually, blame it on a book.  When I was younger, I would frequently stay awake until odd hours reading different books, finding them more enjoyable than whatever drivel I might end up reading in school.  I’ve been reading Ludlum’s Bourne novels which I find both interesting and much more in-depth than the movies.  I suppose that isn’t surprising, but it is a little different for me to be reading mysteries.

Being up late brings back memories though.  I’m stuck on a schedule these days that really isn’t me.  I work early, so I get up each day, and see my creative energies go down the toilet in an unfulfilling effort to make sure the bills get paid.  My house is nice, but I wonder if it is worth it.  It’s strange to be a conservative with an inner beatnik, but that’s probably not the worst description.

I’m sick of reading about Barry.  I’ve been reading sports sites, following the progression of the Steelers into the Super Bowl, and I’m really irritated that I keep hearing all these stories about Obama.  He’s a politician.  Yes, he’s black.  Yes, many athletes are black.  But you know what:  If we’re at a point in this country where all we are doing is celebrating someone because they’re black and in an important position, how has that solved anything?  As long as we make it about color, nothing will ever get solved.  All that aside, however, I want to hear about sports, not his jump hook.  I didn’t see a hundred billion stories about how Dubya owned the Rangers previously when he was elected, and I’m glad for that.  Leave leisure to leisure.

This experiment won’t end well.  I actually think Barry is a charismatic guy, but that he’s entirely wrong in his approach to solutions.  You don’t help the disempowered by saying you’ll take more responsibility for them.  As we strengthen the state, the nation will weaken.  For the purposes of fairness, I believe the same thing about what Republicans did with greatly enlargening the national security apparatus.  The nation is the community of people who gather to find their own solutions.  The state, rightly constructed, is there to step in when we can’t.  But, it has progressed from observer to mediator to arbitrator to judge and I wonder how far despot will be.

I talk to many people.  I often complain people don’t understand liberty.  That is always a hard fight, because it isn’t obvious.  But, the more disturbing trend for the moment is how many people accept this notion that a right to privacy isn’t necessary either.  When we become so utilitarian as to believe that, accepting that social goods override individual ambitions, I wonder if we aren’t buying into the worst sort of collectivist tripe.  I wonder, with all that power amassed, how it will be abused.  I ask myself when.

A healthy dose of paranoia is warranted.  Pay attention, look at how things are, and tell me it is crazy to think like that.

I don’t know.  Some days, I really think just setting up with some good books, saying nothing, and hiding out is the way to go.  But I doubt that will be possible in the end.  So we organize, educate, and hope for a better day.  We look forward to a chance of having not only a system that offers chances, but also people who recognize the value and benefit of this.  We hope, in spite of observation, because the alternative gives us no choice at all.