Personal

Personal reflections, comments about things I've been doing, etc.

A Glimpse of Burning Dust

Overhead, the sky was clear. I looked towards the east south east. The edge of the big dipper pointed up north towards Polaris, and southerly towards Leo and New Haven. Towards the north, some neighbors had outdoor lights on and New Haven has plenty of city lights. Yet from where I was standing, it was fairly dark. Picking out stars, I figured I could see anything magnitude 5.0 or greater. It wouldn’t be the best viewing for shooting stars, but if there was much to see, I’d have some sort of a chance.

I had stumbled out of bed at 3 AM, half an hour after moonset. Without turning on lights, I found my way outside, taking the dog with me. He seemed excited to be going out at this strange hour, but some of the noises in the woods spooked him. I had walked around trying to find the best nearby vantage point. My eyes were well accustomed to the dark, but I didn’t see any shooting stars.

I came back inside. Was anyone else having better luck? I checked on Twitter, but only saw constant retweets of a link to an article in National Geographic. Half an hour later, I headed outside again. Again, I saw no shooting starts. Some of the articles suggested that 5 AM would be a better viewing time. I went back to my computer and tried to get a little work done. Around 4:20 I went back outside one more time. After a few minutes, I saw a shooting star. It was fairly bright, heading due south out of Leo. I waited a few minutes longer but didn’t see any more shooting stars, so I figured I’d let the rest of the family sleep.

How strange it seemed, to be standing on this large rock hurtling through space, looking up to see if I could catch glimpses of pieces of dust burning up as they entered our atmosphere. Yet those little pieces of dust can be truly beautiful, just like the gigantic balls of gas glowing as the atoms fused together.

And the waiting. If you want to see shooting stars, you need to wait. You need to find the right time and the right place to wait, but you still need to wait. It seemed like so much of life. Trying to be at the right place at the right time to wait for something important to come along. Sometimes it comes. Sometimes it doesn’t. Often what does come is different than the expectations.

So, I wished on the one shooting star that I did see and then headed off to bed. I will wait. I will wait for my wish on the shooting star and I will wait for the Geminids in December for another chance to stand outside in the cold waiting to catch a glimpse of burning dust.

(Categories: )

Life as Monomyth

Departure

The Call to Adventure

The phone rings in the middle of the night
My father yells, "Whatchu gonna do with your life?"
Oh, daddy dear
You know you're still number one
But girls, they wanna have fu-un

It is 3:30 Saturday night, or Sunday morning, depending on how you look at things. In the distance a siren wails. Later, I’ll probably get a press release from the City of New Haven or their Police Department about the latest shooting. Somewhere in the house, a cellphone beeps. It’s batteries are dying.

I was pretty tired so I went to bed early last night. Now, I am awake and I guess it is time to explore ‘Life as Monomyth’.

The idea comes out of Story.lab, a project of The Grove in New Haven. Fridays at lunch time, Ken Janke has been leading a discussion on ‘authoring your story as mission’. There have been some fascinating discussions and these are but a few of my thoughts about them.

Last week, I brought up the idea of the Monomyth, the common narrative about heroes so well described in Joseph Campbell’s book, “The Hero with a Thousand Faces”, which later became the PBS special “The Power of Myth”. If we are to author our stories as mission, perhaps we would be well advised to look at the Monomyth as the framework.

There's something happening here
What it is ain't exactly clear

It seems like there are a lot of people struggling with this idea, and what they gonna do with their lives, but there is something happening here. It’s around GoogleHaven and The Grove, and something else, something bigger.

At times, I’ve spoken about a twenty first century digitally enabled ‘Great Awakening’. I’m still not sure exactly what that might be like, but I wonder if it is some how related to the call to adventure.

Refusal of the Call

Yet the Monomyth often continues with a “Refusal of the Call”. Perhaps it is just something about ordinary life that is more appealing. I remember when my first marriage ended, various people offered various thoughts about how to deal with it. I started seeing a therapist who observed that I seemed committed to a 1950s version of the American Family. Perhaps that was my view of the ordinary life not to be disrupted. An organizational consultant I was working with spoke about the return of the hero from the Monomyth and the responsibility to bring back the boon from the adventure to the community. It was the first time I started thinking about life as monomyth.

There is something comforting about family, whether it be a 1950‘s traditional family or a twenty first century modern family. Kim captured some of this nicely in a book she had printed of the first ten years of our life together.

Yet it isn’t just a desire for a traditional family that might be used by some to refuse the call. Some might suggest that the whole construct is flawed. No, life should not be monomyth, it should be performance art.

It is the responsibility of the artist to laugh and jeer and belch and howl at the common delusion that infinite generations of causes can be inferred from effects.

It has been probably thirty years since I read the play Travesties by Tom Stoppard, so I may be misquoting it, but the idea is there. What about life as performance art, laughing and belching at causality? What about art for art’s sake or life for life’s sake? On the one hand, this could take us to Cyndi Lauper. On the other hand, it could take us back to the Zen Masters.

A monk told Joshu: `I have just entered the monastery. Please teach me.'
Joshu asked: `Have you eaten your rice porridge?'
The monk replied: `I have eaten.'
Joshu said: `Then you had better wash your bowl.'
At that moment the monk was enlightened.

Are these just aspects of trying to refuse the call, or are there insights here about the journey?

Supernatural Aid

Perhaps, the muses of the artists or the spirits of family or of enlightenment are just forms of the supernatural aid that often comes in the hero myth. Often with this comes some sort of talisman. What are the talismans in our lives? What do they represent?

To be continued...?

There is so much more to the monomyth and how we could think about it in our own lives. As I glance at sections about crossing the first threshold and the belly of the whale, I have to wonder, where am I in my monomyth? Have I crossed the first threshold? Am I in the belly of the whale? Am I somewhere else in the monomyth?

At the second Story.Lab meeting, one person spoke about Jesuits asking people to write their stories when they turned fifty and writing out where they saw the rest of their story going. It made me think of Hermann Hesse whom people say claimed that you should not read what he wrote before he was fifty and you should only read it after you turn fifty. There were other comments about people finding their calling in their fifties. I am now in my fifties.

An hour later, the cat has asked to go out. I’ve taken the dog out briefly as well and feel as if I’ve probably written enough for right now. Yet, I come back to the monomyth, as well as another story form. Sometimes the monomyth is presented as a circle. Other story forms are also often circular, with each circle leading to a new level. There are stories of destruction and re-creation. Perhaps, I am just looking at another cycle of the the monomyth.

And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and 'round and 'round
In the circle game

(Categories: )

RIP: Florence Rush Nance Woodiel

The Unitarian Meeting House in Hartford, CT was packed with family, friends, and neighbors gathered to honor the memory of Florence Rush Nance Woodiel and I was prepared for yet another memorial service this year, but not for the memorial I attended.

Noted violinist Paul Woodiel started off the ceremony talking about his mother and playing W.A. Mozart’s Sonata no 21 in E minor, K. 304 Tempo di Meuetto. It was a piece that the young Mozart composed after the death of his mother. When he completed the movement, the congregation applauded.

He told us that Florence Rush Nance Woodiel was born in China and named after her grandmother, Florence Rush Nance, who had been in China as a missionary around the start of the twentieth century. He noted that Florence Rush Nance had been one of the first women to receive a degree in science from Vanderbilt.

A little research reveals takes us to the Vanderbilt University Quarterly of January, 1904 It reports that Walter Nance was accepted by the Board of Missions of the Methodist Church, South for work in China in July, 1895. On September 27, 1897, he married Florence Rush Keiser. Florence Rush Nance taught mathematics and chemistry in the McTyeire School for Young Ladies.

The Open Library provides information about two books written by Florence Rush Nance, The love story of a maiden of Cathay published in 1911 and Soochow, the Garden City published in 1936.

Earlier this summer, I attended a memorial service for Evelyn Lull who had been a close friend of my family when I was growing up. Evelyn, and Flo both came from liberal traditions growing out of missionary families committed to the arts and fighting for the rights of all people, especially women. Like Flo, Evelyn was also the granddaughter of a strong, science oriented missionary woman. I wonder what sort of stories the grandchildren of the current generation will have to say about their ancestors at the turn of the twenty first century.

Later, Flo’s second cousin, Hodding Carter III spoke more about Flo’s unabashed liberalism and spoke about how we need people with Flo’s spirit now more than ever. For those who do not remember who Hodding Carter III is, back in the 1970s President Carter, who I do not believe is an immediate relative, appointed him Assistant Secretary of State for Public Affairs and State Department spokesman. He was often on the air during the Iranian Hostage Crisis.

In the congregation, Congressman John Larson, State Representative Andrew Fleischmann, and other dignitaries sat with others that had come to remember Flo. The great music continued. There was J.S. Bach’s Concerto for Two Violins in d minor: Largo, ma non tanto. At the end there were bagpipes.

Hodding Carter III went to Philips Exeter and later to Princeton. Others spoke about fellowships at Harvard, and one person quoted Emerson. This was elite eastern intellectual liberalism at its best.

I come from poorer stock. Generations of New England farmers, and nurses that had been raised as orphans in Canada and come down to New England for better jobs. Yet the underlying ideals of the people that gathered to honor Flo were the same ideals that the nurses and farmers in my family tree held and that we desperately need more of today.

There are some today that sneer at intellectualism, that would trample the arts, and that appear to have little use for the compassion that led ancestors to serve as missionaries over seas, to fight for women’s suffrage, or show concern for the impoverished of today. They are willing to trade everything that has made our country great in defense of selfish tax cuts for the most wealthy amongst us.

As for me, I am glad to stand with Flo, her ancestors, and everyone that gathered to honor so much that she has done. Rest In Peace, Florence Rush Nance Woodiel.

"And then one day you find..."

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way

Well, today has not been a dull day for me. They rarely are. The moments fleet quickly by. Yet at the end of each day, I look back and wonder what I’ve really gotten done.

Here it is 12:30 in the afternoon on the day of my tenth wedding anniversary. I started gathering ideas for this blog post a few days ago and hoped to have it up early in the morning.

Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way

What is the way? Kim and I have been very involved in politics over the past few years. We’ve struggled financially and with our health. We don’t have much of anything solid to point to. We’ve worked on many Quixotic causes. Yet we aren’t waiting for someone or something to show us the way. We are out trying to forge a new way.

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
And you are young and life is long and there is time to kill today

Well, it is a rainy day today. Rainy days always slow me down. But I am no longer young. I hope my life will be long, but there is not time to kill. As if you could kill time without wounding eternity.

And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun

Well, now we get to the key line, the line that made me think of Pink Floyd’s Time. Ten years have got behind us.

No, I didn’t miss the starting gun. My first career was pretty successful. I got married, had two daughters and worked hard. I made a lot of money and then it all fell apart.

When Kim and I met we were both rebuilding our lives. Trying to learn from what had gone wrong in the past, to find new priorities, new ways of doing things. We had a daughter of our own who is growing up loving her older sisters and having very different experiences than they did.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs recently. It seems like in my early years, I spent much of the time pursuing my physiological and safety needs. Even when I was making more money per year than probably 99% of other Americans, I was still stuck on the baser needs. Loving, belonging, esteem and self-actualization all suffered. I wonder how much this is the case in politics today. Are the small government conservatives stuck pursuing physiological and safety needs and missing needs of loving, belonging, esteem and self-actualization?

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again

Anyway, I digress. Yeah, I didn’t miss the starting gun. I ran the race pretty well for forty years, but the sun was sinking, always coming up behind me again.

The sun is the same in a relative way, but you're older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death

For me, back when I was stuck pursuing physiological and safety needs, and I suspect for many others stuck in similar ruts, the sun is the same in a relative way. Yet for me now, things are different.

Yes, the race to meet physiological and safety needs has gotten much more difficult. It has also, perhaps, gotten a bit less important. What matters is loving, belonging, esteem and self-actualization. It makes it possible to see the sun and moon in new ways.

Today, Kim and I celebrate the tenth anniversary of our wedding. Loving, belong, esteem and self-actualization have flourished during these ten years, even as our physiological and safety needs have been more difficult. I think of everyone who is so caught up in making sure that the big old government doesn’t take away some of what they’ve stashed away to meet their physiological needs. Then, I think of the old zen monk.

Ryokan, a Zen master, lived the simplest kind of life in a little hut at the foot of a mountain. One evening a thief visited the hut only to discover there was nothing to steal.

Kyokan returned and caught him. "You may have come a long way to visit me, " he told the prowler, "and you should not return empty-handed. Please take my clothes as a gift."

The thief was bewildered. He tool the clothes and slunk away.

Ryokan sat naked, watching the moon. "Poor fellow," he mused, "I wish I could give him this beautiful moon."

Sitting at my computer at home, I muse about all those tea partiers afraid that the ultrarich will have to pay more in taxes. I wish they could find a relationship as beautiful as my wife and I have found.

(Categories: )

Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit

Rabbit, Rabbit Rabbit. For All The Saints. NaNoWriMo. November starts off with a bang and keeps on going. Election Day. Our Tenth Anniversary. A funeral. All leading up to Nana’s birthday and Thanksgiving. Beneath all of this are subthemes of work and how to use social media to better the human condition. There is a lot going on right now. Let’s look a little bit closer at a few of these.

First, my regular readers will recognize that I like to start each month with my ‘Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit’ post. It harkens back to simpler childhood days and a belief that the incantation, 'Rabbit, Rabbit’, in various forms, depending on where you lived and other factors, would bring good luck or fortune for the month ahead. I like to use this as a chance to reflect on the month just ending and the new month starting.

The new month starts with the Christian holiday, All Saints Day. I’ve always loved this holiday. The music is spectacular. For All The Saints is one of my favorite hymns. I’ve always associated the day with Hebrews 12:1

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,

I love the image of such a great cloud of witnesses, all the saints, people around us today, and those who have passed on. Kim and I met during her mother’s final days on earth and we joke about how our relationship is founded around remembering those who have passed on. We celebrate birthdays and anniversaries by going to funerals. This year will be no different as we go to a funeral two days after our tenth wedding anniversary.

Halloween, or All Hallows’ Eve, come from the traditions of All Saints’ day as well as from Samhain when the border between this world and the next grows thin. For me it is often a time of inspiration, so it is good that November is National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo. Here it is the first of November. Can I write a 50,000 word novel this month? I’ve tried a couple different years. One year I succeeded. The next two years I didn’t complete it. I haven’t really decided if I’m going to give it a try this year; there is so much else going on.

I do have a great idea for this year. Coming of Age. College Road Trip. Influenced by Andrei Tarkovsky, William Gibson, Gary Gygax, maybe a little William Golding, set in the midwest, California and the Ukraine. I’m just not sure if I’ll have time to tackle it. We’ll see what today brings.

Today, I’ll be talking with some folks about using social media to better the human condition. I don’t know what this will lead to, but it could be really exciting. Then, tomorrow is election day. I’ve committed to helping get people out to vote tomorrow. It will be interesting to see what sort of turnout there will be. Will it be a high turnout for mid-term elections or will we suffer from an enthusiasm gap? The results of tomorrow may also tie into prospects of how to use social media to better the human condition. All of this will set the stage for the rest of the month.

Hang on folks, it may be a wild ride.

(Categories: )
Syndicate content