what beauty goes unnoticed
many projects, so little time
Finally, the weather has lightened up and Hell’s fury is spent. Rain would be sweet, but nary a drop dots the horizon. Walking and bike riding bring back so many memories, years in the saddle and on the hike and bike trail. My fall garden is in, giving much pleasure with tangy greens, red peppers, herbs and dwarf eggplants. I may be a flaneur, roaming the city, seeking to slake my aesthetic appetite, but it’s the bios that soothes my soul.
In times of uncertainty faith is: 1) hard to come by, 2) something we cling to, 3) more necessary now than ever and 4) a way of separating believers from philistines. The current zeitgeist proliferates fear, thanks in part to our constant exposure to the negative thoughts and feelings of others via global communication systems. The resulting contagion of anxiety is corrosive to self and community. Many benefit from religion, having a place of peace and prayer to turn to, although the Abrahamic legacy reflects the harshness of its desert roots, leading many to explore religions focused on peace and compassion. Yoga, Buddhism, Taoist and Humanistic psychology have claimed adherents from the non-believer camp, substituting faith in an external God with faith in Self (defined variously depending on the system). Most agree that the Self is the center of our individual and collective identity, the hub of being.
A recent NY Times editorial, Why the Antichrist Matters in Politics reminded me of the value of Erich Fromm’s theories of rational and irrational faith.
“Irrational faith is the unshakable belief in a person, idea, institution or symbol, which does not result from one’s own experience or thinking, but is based on one’s emotional submission to authority. Rational faith exhibits qualities of firmness and steadfastness arising from genuine intellectual and emotional activity and is not subservient to an authoritarian power based on masochistic attachment.”
Given today’s political hurly burly, the question of faith is pivotal. When Fromm published his 1942 essay on Faith as a Character Trait he asked that we consider faith as an aspect of human character, one not dependent on religious objectification and cautioned us against throwing the baby out with the bathwater .
“The man attempting to live without faith becomes sterile, and hopeless and afraid to the very core of his being. He must resign himself to clinging desperately to an inner and outer status quo, while finding that he has no defense against even the most completely irrational philosophies and doctrines. Was then the development of modern thinking away from and against faith a fatal error? Must we return to religion unless we are willing to accept the kinds of heathen doctrines, which spread their gospel with concentration camps and dive-bombers? Is „faith“ really an essentially religious phenomenon, only a matter of faith in God or religious doctrines? Is it bound up with religion and destined to share its historical fate? Is faith by its very nature something in contrast to or divorced from rational thinking. Or is there on the other hand a less specific faith, which is an essentially basic attitude within the person towards life, a character trait which pervades all his experiences?”
Erich Fromm (1973) The Anatomy of Human Destructiveness
“To have faith means to dare, to think the unthinkable, yet to act within the limits of the realistically possible; it is the paradoxical hope to expect the Messiah every day, yet not to lose heart when he has not come at the appointed hour. This hope is not passive and it is not patient; on the contrary, it is impatient and active, looking for every possibility of action within the realm of real possibilities. Least of all it is passive as far as the growth and liberation of one’s own person are concerned….
The situation of mankind is too serious to permit us to listen to the demagogues – least of all demagogues who are attracted to destruction – or even to the leaders who use only their brains and whose hearts have hardened. Critical and radical thought will only bear fruit when it is blended with the most precious quality man is endowed with – the love of life.”
In 1942, the intellectual climate of the day was severely rational, in response to what Carl Jung described as the “mass psychosis” of the Nazi movement in The Undiscovered Self. Both Jung and Fromm saw the exploration of one’s inner landscape and the ongoing integration of self and other/conscious and unconscious as necessary to bring about equilibrium and equanimity in a world torn by conflict and mistrust. Jung’s incorporation of alchemical motifs and his understanding of the psychological reconciliation of opposites are very compatible with many eastern and western spiritual traditions. Despite his formidable intellect, Jung had a mystical bent, something his professional community disdained. Jung’s father was a Methodist minister and Fromm was tutored as an Orthodox Jew, eventually calling himself an atheistic mystic, a combination of Jung and Karl Marx. Both men understood the necessity of reconciling the individual and collective aspects of human nature and society.
Jung’s theories on withdrawing projections and his call to explore the unconscious and integrate repressed elements that constellate in the shadow were driven in large part by the horrors of World War I and II. The advent of analytical psychology and Humanistic Psychology gave modern philosophers a bridge between individual and collective human identity, both conscious and unconscious. Confronting the shadow can be a nightmare, as we see reflected in our ongoing collective struggles to awaken. To recognize the emergence of the human spirit beyond the Darwinian paradigm of historical precedent is to have faith that we can evolve beyond denial and shadow projection.
A few years ago I had a dream that brought this individual/collective struggle home in a way that continues to unfold.
I dreamed I was in a club listening to music with my sister then returned home and went to bed. I woke up suddenly in a room that looked like one of my childhood bedrooms and saw a tall shadowy figure standing silhouetted black in the brightly lit doorway. It loomed tall and somewhat menacingly and I knew it intimately but not specifically. I leaped out of bed and grabbed it by the neck and shoulders, shouting “Who are you and what do you want from me?” We grappled our way down the stairs and out toward the front door where the sun was rising at dawn. The closer we got to the front door the more the walls started to dissolve. They were replaced by murals of people from around the world, scenes from every continent, people of every race and color, age and sex. The closer we got to the front door the more the shadow started to shrink and become a part of me. It started to dawn on me (don’t ignore the power of puns in dream imagery) that as the shadow lost its threatening aspects, I was able to embrace the world and all the people. I was filled with awe that this was possible and great warmth shone through me and suffused the tableau.
Dreams are vehicles for integrating the conscious and unconscious aspects of our awareness. Compliments of the Self, we are guided to fulfill our humanity, to become whole both individually and collectively. See Ocean.
Saturday morning walking around the lake hoping for rain. I checked in on the occupation of Austin and wonder if this protest is the beginning of a social movement, as Dr. Michael Young suggests. If so, what are the chances that it will help create new interest in labor unions? Is the worker’s goose cooked or can we mobilize the community to respond creatively to egregious social inequality? We had a very interesting brownbag presentation at UT with 3 graduate researchers discussing worker led social movements in Argentina and Peru. Check UTAustinSOC for discussions on Wallstreet Spring, Durkheim’s anomie and more.
Ocean
I woke to the dawn, washed ashore by an ocean of dreams
a traveler moving between worlds, in and out of time
Dreams that vanished in the daylight,
caught like flies in Maya’s gleaming web.
We ignore this other world,
lulled by life’s ebb and flow.
The evening’s journey lost,
Our soul’s voice hushed in the darkness
When a whisper from our deepest Self
can sooth the wounds of love and fear
softly, like a feather drifting on a wave
lapping on the shores of a mind open to the most gentle touch
Cloudburst
These clouds, shaking down big fat drops of rain
like prayers fallen back to earth
Globes of water splatting on my windshield, sliding luxuriously down
to wipers then flung back to the torrent
My prayers for the gasping trees, for the withered flowers and straw
that used to be grass, have been answered
Thanks be to that which I cannot see, into whom I empty my heart,
who brings the hummingbirds to drink nectar in my backyard
given new life by the cloudburst that broke the endless summer heat
After walking the many acres of shops, restaurants, whistling, tweeting and ringing bells at Caesar’s Palace, I sought refuge at the Bellagio. The 110 degrees on the strip touched my skin for an hour at 7:30 in the morning and never again until I fled to the airport. For a naturalist, this was not my usual saunter. I had to call on subterranean memories of disco nights, bring out my Evelyn Champagne King buried four decades deep. It took me three days to orient myself to the twists and turns of the Roman holiday mall, convincing peasants like me that we are living large – like Caesar, probably Augustus not Julius. While I didn’t follow my impulse to sneak into the Wedding chapels and take some photos, I would expect something along these lines. The Bellagio was more modulated than the Palace, but the atrium pictures shown below rival the kitsch of Caesars, family style. For a tourist once removed (I was attending a Sociology conference) from the many dubious pleasures of Sin City, I did find a taste of something savory here and there (Palm, Joe’s Stone Crab and Steakhouse, Payard Pastiserei and Yellowtail). Cocktails, while expensive, were a delicious and medicinal balm for my irradiated senses. I include snapshots of the Bellagio and Caesar’s in colorful tribute to my Vegas mall walk about.
Well Vegas, for the record, let me just say Danke Schoen. It’s been surreal.
The Community Renaissance Market at 6800 West Gate Boulevard and William Cannon is filled with pleasant surprises. Located in an abandoned Albertson’s, co-visionaries, Ruth Glendinning and Susan Buhrman describe their concept:
Community Renaissance Market houses a variety of locally-owned microbusinesses with products ranging from antiques, organic dog treats and fair trade jewelry, to locally-grown food and art. Open the the public Wed – Sun, this microbusiness incubator & community hub is a multi-cultural, accessible, fun experience for all members of the community. Community Renaissance Market is a “slow tech” development focused on Sustainable Local Organic Work organizations and businesses, reflecting the vision and values of the local community.
Some of the shops are shown in the photo gallery below.
Sporting a new Sunday Farmer’s Market and two cafes in addition to the sweet shops, you will never go hungry when shopping or enjoying community events like the Healthy, Wealthy and Wise Metaphysical Fair, Arts and Music Weekend, Natural Family Fun and the Makers and Bakers Bazaar. More sauntering to come as I watch the evolution of this very interesting community business model.
I walked a letter over to the Office of Graduate Studies in the Main Building at UT Austin on Friday and noticed the wonderful afternoon light on the grand staircase. Fortunately, I had my camera in my office so I returned and shot the photos shown below. Noticing the beauty in small, everyday places is to cultivate a sauntering eye. I highly recommend it as a remedy for ennui and as a springboard for loving appreciation.
Thanks to my cousin Steve Porter, Bill and I were ushered off Madison’s beaten path to both musical and edible treats. After landing in the lake city, Bill and I made our way to the University of Wisconsin Rathskeller -a classic beer hall- sehr Deutsch. Cruising down State street, catering to the university crowd with bookstores and sidewalk cafes, we stopped for refreshments at Hsusus, a small Mediterranean cafe. Steve mentioned that it used to be a Dunkin Donuts before some students rolled a big wooden spool through the front window. A young violinist entertained passersby with classical tunes, the crowd: a mix of seasoned hippies and students of every stripe. Casual, unpretentious, it was easy to feel at home in Madison, which shares an alternative outlook with Austin, though with fewer tattoos. Moving on to Talula, a restaurant/music venue, we enjoyed crab puffs, fresh pasta and handmade pizza, layered with farm fresh vegetables. Drinks were delightful, the bartender/owner was friendly and the band brought a down home, honky tonk ambiance, complemented by works of local artists, shown below.
Earlier in the day when we were driving into the city, Bill and I caught a few minutes of a radio talk-show featuring a host who was taking Q & A about health care reform. Oddly, he was liberal, something I didn’t think existed on radio talk shows. Talking with Steve about what was happening in Wisconsin, I was reminded of the rich labor movement tradition underlying the establishment of things we take for granted and are now challenged: overtime, sick leave, vacation time, social security and health benefits. We’ll see what the future holds. Clubs in Wisconsin and probably most of the Great Lakes areas can be found in places once inhabited by supper clubs. These outliers are are now in light industrial areas (one was across from the Oscar Mayer wiener plant) on a grid known only to the locals. I was happy to have part-time drummer, Steve as our guide. Great roadhouse blues, mysterious back roads, and good company made for a great adventure in Madison, Austin’s sister city.
There’s no place like home
