Nickolas Quinn Simons left no heirs and he had mixed feelings about that. He thought much about how to live well and how he might raise children who were compassionate, creative, and wise. Be he worried too that the earth was already overpopulated and that our society's support systems would soon fail.
To digest these thoughts and concerns Nick wrote in a journal and on this blog. He enjoyed reading stories, true and otherwise, about the lives of great human beings, about culture, race, environment, soul, and economy. Offering a post-mortem shout out to his beloved partner, Maisha, and to his family on CR 108 he said, "I love you. Catch you on the flip side."
Nick wanted to be remembered for his sincere desire to live a good life. He wanted to change the world and believed that change must begin with one's self. He realized one of his many dreams in creating a person powered, sustainable lawn care service and he was dedicated to riding his bicycle as much as possible to minimize his carbon footprint.
Nicky, as he was affectionately called by his close friends and family, hoped that his funeral would be more of a mournful and melancholy event than a celebration of life. He said people cry at funerals for a reason and he believed strongly in the power of grieving to maintain psychological health. Grieving is a time for the living to grow closer together. Still, he hoped people would at least make a few puns and smile a bit at the funeral. Also, Josh Kinder should play some murder ballads. He asked that a month or so after he'd passed to hold a Contra Dance in his honor, and that someone would teach his parents how to dance.
To be buried in a coffin of his own making, without a funeral home if possible, and buried near his ancestors or in the woods on CR 108 were his final dying wishes. The viewing ought to be at Fellowship of Hope or in the horse barn where he grew up.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Retirement, Wealth, and Soul
Retirement
"Retirement is the point where a person stops employment completely. Previously, low life expectancy and the absence of pension arrangements meant that most workers continued to work until death. Germany was the first country to introduce retirement, in 1880." (Wikipedia)
I was trained from a young age to believe planning for retirement was the real heart of wisdom. I read books on financial planning and investing, went to seminars, and, as soon as I turned 18, began trading stocks. I was out to make a fortune. The idea of investing in stocks or mutual funds sounds great: you make your money work for you. But is your money spending its mornings at the gym working out and eating a balanced diet so it can grow? The hard work that goes into our growing wealth is being done by someone somewhere, and it often has a high cost that we don't see. Most of the corporations "growing" our wealth are operating in countries where labor is cheap and environmental and labor laws are lax. Most of the people doing the grunt work to create our wealth are far too poor to consider investing in a 401K. They are living hand to mouth and the cut-throat capitalism that's a hallmark of our industrial economy is destroying the social and biological fabric of their communities even faster than its destroyed ours.
At 22, seeking safer and more conscientious investments, I began putting my money in socially responsible mutual funds. But I've been steadily losing faith in this financial system and its insistence that retirement is the golden end of the road. My "socially responsible" mutual funds with Calvert tout Harley Davidson as their top company for corporate responsibility. To me, Harley Davidson looks like a company that sells a ridiculous, macho image making products that are noisy, polluting, and entirely dependent on the oil economy. Is that socially responsible? This weekend a local friend of mine who works for a mutual fund company told me, "Since the 2008 financial crisis we've seen what happens to the house of cards when a couple are pulled out from the bottom. In 30 years our global financial system will in no way resemble what it is today. It's completely unsustainable. The only reason I work in this industry is to try to ensure that the companies we're investing in are "socially responsible." But the whole system is unsustainable and we need something completely different." He also told me he wouldn't trust his money in mutual funds.
I don't believe people need to be doing hard manual labor in their later years or that Wal-Mart's front doors are the only logical place for older people to be useful. My critique is of our industrial economy and how it exploits and separates us from our families, friends, and the earth. Finance writer Helaine Olen says many older people are retiring at age 60 or 65 with only $25,000 to carry them to the end of their lives. Is that because they're foolish and wasteful, or because this financial system is failing massively? With 50% of people in the US living paycheck to paycheck, I'm leaning toward the latter.
I don't want to be 75 and without any resources to get me through to the end of my life. I also don't want to believe that I need to invest my time, energy, and money into jobs and systems that rely on violence to produce goods and wealth. Longevity is in my genes and, with medical treatment advancing as it is, I suspect I could live as long as my Great Grandma Langwell, who celebrated her 100th birthday last August. She lives in Middlebury, Indiana on a property where five generations of her family still reside. It's not paradise but it's better than any nursing home. Grandma lives in her own little house, her memory is pristine, and she finds meaning in the relationships with her family that she sees and that supports her every day. That model of growing old sounds much more appealing to me than the extreme independence that marks modern US culture from cradle to grave. I don't want to have so much money that I don't need people.
This concept of retirement is only 130 years old, and I suspect that in many small villages around the world it's still not in the lexicon. How did this great shift in growing old come about? Are we better off now? Interdependence and cooperation used to be the only way people could survive and I'm sure that brought plenty of challenges of which I'm naively unaware. Wendell Berry, speaking about good men, says, "...[His] rewards are not deferred until "retirement," but arrive seasonally and daily out of the details of the life of his place..." (The Unforeseen Wilderness). And in "What are People For?" he says, "In a country that puts an absolute premium on labor saving, short work days, and retirement why should there by any surprise at permanence of unemployment and welfare dependency? Those are only different names for our national ambitions."
Wealth
Storing up treasure on earth certainly appeals to me and my entrepreneurial streak, but it's contrary to what I believe we ought to be doing. With that said, I also believe it's prudent to save. I don't know where to draw the line between savings and a fortune and I don't know where to save money when most banks are involved in funding projects that I'd prefer not be funded. I would like to own land with friends, grow our own food, and create multigenerational community that always has space for people to grow old, contribute in meaningful ways, and receive the care and support they need. I want interdependence with friends and family so we don't have to depend on the exploitative and unpredictable global economy to take care of us in old age. I want investments I can see, touch, love, taste, and smell. I want to invest in this place and make it better for future generations.
My maternal grandmother, Nancy Kline, tells the story of how her parents took care of her grandparents in their old age: "When Grandpa and Grandma Lienhart got too old to farm, they moved into our two-bedroom farmhouse with my folks and the four of us kids. I still don't know where all those people slept, but we made it work." That sounds hard, but it doesn't sound like hell. In fact, it sounds right. It doesn't sound like a lot of money, but it sounds like real wealth. Young people and old people stand to gain a lot from living near one another. We can remind each other of our common history and humanity, sharing the vitality and memory that communities need to survive.
Soul
I'm still influenced by my culture of extreme independence and a lifestyle that encourages me to be accountable to no one. But I believe that's a big part of what got us into the mess we're in now. There is little love, joy, or soul in that way of life. Again I turn to Wendell Berry for wisdom: "Just as the public economy encourages people to spend money and waste the world, so the public sexual code encourages people to be spendthrifts and squanderers of sex. The basis of true community and household economy, on the other hand, is thrift." (Sex, Economy, Freedom, and Community). I appreciate Berry's soulful approach to community, economy, and it's application even to sexuality. In his book, "Care of the Soul," Thomas Moore also offers wisdom on how we relate to the past in our age of unrelenting modernity, "Once we shift our attention to care for the soul rather than the ego, we have a way out of the bias of modernism, of living only for the day [or for the future]. A soul sensibility awakens an appreciation for old ways and ancient wisdom...(411).
What To Do
"Retirement is the point where a person stops employment completely. Previously, low life expectancy and the absence of pension arrangements meant that most workers continued to work until death. Germany was the first country to introduce retirement, in 1880." (Wikipedia)
I was trained from a young age to believe planning for retirement was the real heart of wisdom. I read books on financial planning and investing, went to seminars, and, as soon as I turned 18, began trading stocks. I was out to make a fortune. The idea of investing in stocks or mutual funds sounds great: you make your money work for you. But is your money spending its mornings at the gym working out and eating a balanced diet so it can grow? The hard work that goes into our growing wealth is being done by someone somewhere, and it often has a high cost that we don't see. Most of the corporations "growing" our wealth are operating in countries where labor is cheap and environmental and labor laws are lax. Most of the people doing the grunt work to create our wealth are far too poor to consider investing in a 401K. They are living hand to mouth and the cut-throat capitalism that's a hallmark of our industrial economy is destroying the social and biological fabric of their communities even faster than its destroyed ours.
At 22, seeking safer and more conscientious investments, I began putting my money in socially responsible mutual funds. But I've been steadily losing faith in this financial system and its insistence that retirement is the golden end of the road. My "socially responsible" mutual funds with Calvert tout Harley Davidson as their top company for corporate responsibility. To me, Harley Davidson looks like a company that sells a ridiculous, macho image making products that are noisy, polluting, and entirely dependent on the oil economy. Is that socially responsible? This weekend a local friend of mine who works for a mutual fund company told me, "Since the 2008 financial crisis we've seen what happens to the house of cards when a couple are pulled out from the bottom. In 30 years our global financial system will in no way resemble what it is today. It's completely unsustainable. The only reason I work in this industry is to try to ensure that the companies we're investing in are "socially responsible." But the whole system is unsustainable and we need something completely different." He also told me he wouldn't trust his money in mutual funds.
I don't believe people need to be doing hard manual labor in their later years or that Wal-Mart's front doors are the only logical place for older people to be useful. My critique is of our industrial economy and how it exploits and separates us from our families, friends, and the earth. Finance writer Helaine Olen says many older people are retiring at age 60 or 65 with only $25,000 to carry them to the end of their lives. Is that because they're foolish and wasteful, or because this financial system is failing massively? With 50% of people in the US living paycheck to paycheck, I'm leaning toward the latter.
I don't want to be 75 and without any resources to get me through to the end of my life. I also don't want to believe that I need to invest my time, energy, and money into jobs and systems that rely on violence to produce goods and wealth. Longevity is in my genes and, with medical treatment advancing as it is, I suspect I could live as long as my Great Grandma Langwell, who celebrated her 100th birthday last August. She lives in Middlebury, Indiana on a property where five generations of her family still reside. It's not paradise but it's better than any nursing home. Grandma lives in her own little house, her memory is pristine, and she finds meaning in the relationships with her family that she sees and that supports her every day. That model of growing old sounds much more appealing to me than the extreme independence that marks modern US culture from cradle to grave. I don't want to have so much money that I don't need people.
This concept of retirement is only 130 years old, and I suspect that in many small villages around the world it's still not in the lexicon. How did this great shift in growing old come about? Are we better off now? Interdependence and cooperation used to be the only way people could survive and I'm sure that brought plenty of challenges of which I'm naively unaware. Wendell Berry, speaking about good men, says, "...[His] rewards are not deferred until "retirement," but arrive seasonally and daily out of the details of the life of his place..." (The Unforeseen Wilderness). And in "What are People For?" he says, "In a country that puts an absolute premium on labor saving, short work days, and retirement why should there by any surprise at permanence of unemployment and welfare dependency? Those are only different names for our national ambitions."
Wealth
Storing up treasure on earth certainly appeals to me and my entrepreneurial streak, but it's contrary to what I believe we ought to be doing. With that said, I also believe it's prudent to save. I don't know where to draw the line between savings and a fortune and I don't know where to save money when most banks are involved in funding projects that I'd prefer not be funded. I would like to own land with friends, grow our own food, and create multigenerational community that always has space for people to grow old, contribute in meaningful ways, and receive the care and support they need. I want interdependence with friends and family so we don't have to depend on the exploitative and unpredictable global economy to take care of us in old age. I want investments I can see, touch, love, taste, and smell. I want to invest in this place and make it better for future generations.
My maternal grandmother, Nancy Kline, tells the story of how her parents took care of her grandparents in their old age: "When Grandpa and Grandma Lienhart got too old to farm, they moved into our two-bedroom farmhouse with my folks and the four of us kids. I still don't know where all those people slept, but we made it work." That sounds hard, but it doesn't sound like hell. In fact, it sounds right. It doesn't sound like a lot of money, but it sounds like real wealth. Young people and old people stand to gain a lot from living near one another. We can remind each other of our common history and humanity, sharing the vitality and memory that communities need to survive.
Soul
I'm still influenced by my culture of extreme independence and a lifestyle that encourages me to be accountable to no one. But I believe that's a big part of what got us into the mess we're in now. There is little love, joy, or soul in that way of life. Again I turn to Wendell Berry for wisdom: "Just as the public economy encourages people to spend money and waste the world, so the public sexual code encourages people to be spendthrifts and squanderers of sex. The basis of true community and household economy, on the other hand, is thrift." (Sex, Economy, Freedom, and Community). I appreciate Berry's soulful approach to community, economy, and it's application even to sexuality. In his book, "Care of the Soul," Thomas Moore also offers wisdom on how we relate to the past in our age of unrelenting modernity, "Once we shift our attention to care for the soul rather than the ego, we have a way out of the bias of modernism, of living only for the day [or for the future]. A soul sensibility awakens an appreciation for old ways and ancient wisdom...(411).
What To Do
- A study by Michael Norton, associate professor at Harvard Business School, found that money can indeed buy us happiness, as long as we're spending it on other people. Spending money on ourselves seems to have little impact on our happiness.
- Common Good Bank's rCredits are a new form of local currency being introduced in Massachusetts. After the kinks are worked out of this trial run, the rCredits are expected to be available in test cities like Goshen! This bank will only invest in projects chosen by its community members and it's project advisory board has a sub-committee called, "Non-profits, Spirit, and Society." That sounds like a bank with soul. Keep an eye out for them in the local news.
- CDs: Certificates of Deposit are safe ways to invest money (preferably in locally, cooperatively run institutions) that offer sustainable rates of return. Instead of the 9% promised by mutual funds in the industrial economy, CDs typically offer around a 1% rate of return. You're not going to get rich that way, but I hope we're beginning to see that getting rich is not the point. The point is community, sustainability, uplifting lives and
- Invest in your community! Investing in community projects, local businesses, and especially local food is a great way to use your money and invest in the future of your place. If you're looking for a bigger, long-term investment, land is something that is inherently valuable. It's real. You can touch it. There are some ethical questions to consider in our ownership of land and how that affects communities, but that's for another entry.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Inflatuation
Good friends make good farts. This may fly in the face of conventional wisdom about good company, but good company sounds to me like people you don’t know or even like very much. Flatus and I have reached a turning point in our tenuous relationship. It hasn’t ended in a ceasefire, but instead we’ve each found some room to air our concerns in the safe, welcoming space of beloved friends and family.
Sometime before 4th grade I remember David Schmidt bragging that his dad’s thunderous farts shook the walls of their fancy subdivision home. I doubted the truth of his claim, but, more importantly, I was appalled by his celebration of the ass’s gases. I considered the unsettling realization that these obnoxious, smelly things so glorified by the men and condemned by the women in my own family were also dominating the airwaves in other homes. Today I wonder if farts are so gendered in other countries as they are here.
Human beings around the world produce on average ½ to 1 full liter of flatus per person per day and in many cultures farting is considered a source of both humor and embarrassment. All 7 billion of us are capable of fouling up the air and either trying to hide it or getting a good chuckle out of it. That’s comforting to me. What’s distressing is that many of us can only relate to them with painful feelings of shame or excessive celebration.
I am always a little bewildered by the pride many men have about the production of a loud and noxious anal explosion, but I’ll try to be careful not to condemn anyone’s relating to their bodies. We’ve had enough of that. However, I am proud to have made progress with my personal impasse with gas. This breaking of ground with the breaking of wind is growing out of deep friendships based on trust, love, service, and real intimacy. In this fertile ground grows the capacity to begin claiming all of ourselves in ways that are neither boastful nor shameful, but honest and comfortable. The first few times meeting your girlfriend’s parents is probably a good time to hold it in, but you know you’re on the right track when her dad lets one rip in front of you.
Humans in many cultures seem to relate to their bodies in awkward ways when it comes to things like farts, sex, and food. My hope is that we can find some comfort and freedom in developing the friendships and community that will love and accept us in our humanness.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
A Psalm of Life
Here's a poem I encountered on a barefoot run to a thrift store yesterday morning.
A Psalm of Life
Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solenm main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A Psalm of Life
Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solenm main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Friday, March 4, 2011
I want to write about a couple of good days and and the blowing winds of change.
On the 27th day of February I woke from a string of awful dreams. They were all about me feeling small, weak, and inadequate next to just about everyone in the world: pretty girls, family, friends, young men, old men. I went to church and cried through most of the service while Rachel Epp-Miller offered a beautiful sermon on the church's duty to welcome and invite people of all sexual orientations. I could feel so much poison in me, I could see it so clearly in many of my family members, and I could feel some small portion of it leaving me with my tears. Another step toward wholeness.
During the service I also felt convicted about returning to Indiana to fight a great war. It will be a war for my soul, and I know that I will lose many of the battles, but I am also confident that I'm not going to give up. That may be the most important lesson I've learned in my last two months of traveling: that I may make compromises and I will continue to make lots of mistakes, but I will keep struggling to be a better person and to be more loving and honest. I'm going to co-create a garden in Elkhart.
Another concern I had leading up to this Sunday service was the potluck that always follows church on the last Sunday of the month. Lately I've been deaf to the needs and signals of my body. At potlucks I eat piles of rich, sugary, fatty foods until I feel emotionally and physically awful, and I was sure that this one would be no different. I considered leaving church before the potluck began or even fasting all day on Sunday, but I didn't have to. After having a good long cry during the service, all I wanted was lots and lots of salad. I ate such healthy foods and enjoyed wonderful conversation with friends at the church. I felt stable.
That afternoon, during a rousing game of Settlers with friends from church, I happened to look out the window to see Hannah Eash in the backyard, sitting on a sunny picnic table, playing her guitar, and singing while her dog Milo stood attentively at her feet. I was stirred with attraction and appreciation for her beauty and music and the whole joyful day. When I got home that evening I had to do something with all the energy that was bubbling up inside me, so I went out for a barefoot run. Somehow I got completely turned around and ended up on a much longer run than I had intended. It felt great to get lost and explore a new part of the neighborhood and it led me to some interesting places. I got home to see that my best friend, Marilyn Reish, had called and we ended up talking for nearly 100 minutes about her awful day and my great one. It was a perfect end to a great day.
The next day was pretty boring so I won't write about it. But the day after was noteworthy. So here's the note: It began with the usual green smoothie, after which I biked the six miles down to work odd jobs with my eccentric boss. He had very little for me to do until an hour later when we drove all the way back to my neighborhood to begin a bathroom remodeling project. After a fairly easy day he took me out for the most delicious Bubble Tea I've ever had. When work was done, I decided to bike up to the Witte Museum, which has free admission on Tuesdays. At the door to the museum I realized I had forgotten my lock at the workshop on the other side of the city. The museum superintendent said he had nowhere safe for me to put my bike, so I turned in resignation to bike home. A woman who had overheard the conversation stopped me and said that I could keep it in her car while we walked around the museum. And that's how I met Karen Marsh.
She and I walked around the museum together, playing with the interactive exhibits, looking at stuffed animals, and talking about life. Afterward she treated me to a delicious meal of Vietnamese food and then drove me home. My fortune cookie said, "You desire to discover new frontiers. It's time to travel." Word!
Yesterday I got an email from David Young in New Orleans. He invited me to help him work on his garden there before driving back to Indiana together in mid-March. It feels like a good option. I also found a craigslist ride leaving San Antonio in two days to head to Mardis Gras. I think that's where I'm headed, but I'll have to wait to confirm the ride.
I'm going to enjoy my last couple days in Texas and I'm looking forward to heading back to springtime in Indiana. In other news, I got a call from Gould Farm inviting me out to spend a year as a volunteer there. After looking at my resume, they said that I'm at the top of their volunteer list. I like that.
On the 27th day of February I woke from a string of awful dreams. They were all about me feeling small, weak, and inadequate next to just about everyone in the world: pretty girls, family, friends, young men, old men. I went to church and cried through most of the service while Rachel Epp-Miller offered a beautiful sermon on the church's duty to welcome and invite people of all sexual orientations. I could feel so much poison in me, I could see it so clearly in many of my family members, and I could feel some small portion of it leaving me with my tears. Another step toward wholeness.
During the service I also felt convicted about returning to Indiana to fight a great war. It will be a war for my soul, and I know that I will lose many of the battles, but I am also confident that I'm not going to give up. That may be the most important lesson I've learned in my last two months of traveling: that I may make compromises and I will continue to make lots of mistakes, but I will keep struggling to be a better person and to be more loving and honest. I'm going to co-create a garden in Elkhart.
Another concern I had leading up to this Sunday service was the potluck that always follows church on the last Sunday of the month. Lately I've been deaf to the needs and signals of my body. At potlucks I eat piles of rich, sugary, fatty foods until I feel emotionally and physically awful, and I was sure that this one would be no different. I considered leaving church before the potluck began or even fasting all day on Sunday, but I didn't have to. After having a good long cry during the service, all I wanted was lots and lots of salad. I ate such healthy foods and enjoyed wonderful conversation with friends at the church. I felt stable.
That afternoon, during a rousing game of Settlers with friends from church, I happened to look out the window to see Hannah Eash in the backyard, sitting on a sunny picnic table, playing her guitar, and singing while her dog Milo stood attentively at her feet. I was stirred with attraction and appreciation for her beauty and music and the whole joyful day. When I got home that evening I had to do something with all the energy that was bubbling up inside me, so I went out for a barefoot run. Somehow I got completely turned around and ended up on a much longer run than I had intended. It felt great to get lost and explore a new part of the neighborhood and it led me to some interesting places. I got home to see that my best friend, Marilyn Reish, had called and we ended up talking for nearly 100 minutes about her awful day and my great one. It was a perfect end to a great day.
The next day was pretty boring so I won't write about it. But the day after was noteworthy. So here's the note: It began with the usual green smoothie, after which I biked the six miles down to work odd jobs with my eccentric boss. He had very little for me to do until an hour later when we drove all the way back to my neighborhood to begin a bathroom remodeling project. After a fairly easy day he took me out for the most delicious Bubble Tea I've ever had. When work was done, I decided to bike up to the Witte Museum, which has free admission on Tuesdays. At the door to the museum I realized I had forgotten my lock at the workshop on the other side of the city. The museum superintendent said he had nowhere safe for me to put my bike, so I turned in resignation to bike home. A woman who had overheard the conversation stopped me and said that I could keep it in her car while we walked around the museum. And that's how I met Karen Marsh.
She and I walked around the museum together, playing with the interactive exhibits, looking at stuffed animals, and talking about life. Afterward she treated me to a delicious meal of Vietnamese food and then drove me home. My fortune cookie said, "You desire to discover new frontiers. It's time to travel." Word!
Yesterday I got an email from David Young in New Orleans. He invited me to help him work on his garden there before driving back to Indiana together in mid-March. It feels like a good option. I also found a craigslist ride leaving San Antonio in two days to head to Mardis Gras. I think that's where I'm headed, but I'll have to wait to confirm the ride.
I'm going to enjoy my last couple days in Texas and I'm looking forward to heading back to springtime in Indiana. In other news, I got a call from Gould Farm inviting me out to spend a year as a volunteer there. After looking at my resume, they said that I'm at the top of their volunteer list. I like that.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Meme Dreams
While riding a bicycle to my current San Antonio residence last week, I saw my name etched in the sidewalk. "Nick," it said. I smiled. Then, ten feet later, I saw it again, but with the addition of the last initial "L." Always looking for signs and meaning in the world around me, I stopped, looked left and saw a building with a large sign that said, "Eckankar: Religion of the Light and Sound of God." I went to investigate, took a free pamphlet from outside the door, and decided to visit the next day. I didn't find the religious philosophy very compelling, but I did like it's emphasis on dreams. I resolved to pay extra special attention to my dreams that evening with the hope of discovering something new about myself or receiving some communications from beyond this earthly realm.
My nights have been full of dreams lately and the pages of my journal reflect crocodiles, sunken ships, adventures, and mysteries that I unconsciously encounter each night. I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote down something that I didn't understand at all. "How many femes are needed for manhood?" I thought that was the question posed to me by an unknown entity in the dream, but I wasn't sure about that word "femes. The first letter could have been an 'm' a 't' or something else. When I went to the Eck center the next day, I was greeted by Henry, an old devotee of the religion who gave me a cup of tea, lots of space, and free reign over the library. Before I left I asked him if the word memes was part of his religion. He said he'd never heard of it, but that often he will find that the meaning of mysterious dreams will become clear within a few days. He sent me off with more literature on Eckankar and never put any pressure on me to join his religion.
I forgot about the femes in the midst of my wanderings around San Antonio. Thomas Merton's book "Seven Story Mountain," has had me questioning the worth of protestantism as he argues so convincingly that the Catholic Church is the one true Church. I've also been regularly attending Sunday School and Worship at the San Antonio Mennonite Church. There I've been contemplating questions of intimacy, sexuality, and relationships with friends and members of the congregation. I've been wondering about the place of individuals within community, what kind of community I want to be part of, and whether any community will encourage my growth in love and truth like the Divine Love community in Australia. So, I've got four distinct faith paths vying for my attention at this point: Catholicism, Anabaptist Protestantism, Eckankar, and the Divine Love Path. Then I met Oscar Alvarado.
I was meandering around on my bicycle last Saturday, enjoying the beautiful weather, when I saw a striking mosaic sculpture in a front yard where a man and woman were talking. I stopped to say hello and inquire about the art piece, and within a couple minutes the artist, Oscar, asked if I wanted a job. He is starting an online business selling 3-speed vintage bicycles and needs someone to help clean up and repair the bikes. "Cool, let's go." So, I had a job for the afternoon. I worked a couple hours and made a little money while Oscar told me about his life as an artist, a building contractor, and an atheist. He argue convincingly for atheism and it didn't take long before I felt his words working their way into my mind and thoughts.
That evening a friend placed a TED video in front of my and I watched a woman talk about the importance of thanking others in the ways they need to be thanked. It wasn't very convincing, but then the mystery came full circle. I watched this video of Susan Blackmore explaining "memes" and her idea of "temes." http://www.ted.com/talks/susan_blackmore_on_memes_and_temes.html
Here's what Wikipedia says about memes: "memes identify ideas or beliefs that are transmitted from one person or group of people to another. The concept comes from an analogy: as genes transmit biological information, memes can be said to transmit ideas and belief information.A meme acts as a unit for carrying cultural ideas symbols or practices, which can be transmitted from one mind to another through writing, speech, gestures, rituals or other imitable phenomena. Supporters of the concept regard memes as cultural analogues to genes, in that they self-replicate, mutate and respond to selective pressures."
And just to offer some balance to this meme machine, here's Wikipedia's note on the uncertainty surrounding the concept: In his chapter titled "Truth" published in the Encyclopedia of Phenomenology, Dieter Lohmar questions the memeticists' reduction of the highly complex body of ideas (such as religion, politics, war, justice, and science itself) to a putatively one-dimensional series of memes. He sees memes as an abstraction and such a reduction as failing to produce greater understanding of those ideas. The highly interconnected, multi-layering of ideas resists memetic simplification to an atomic or molecular form; as does the fact that each of our lives remains fully enmeshed and involved in such "memes". Lohmar argues that one cannot view memes through a microscope in the way one can detect genes. The leveling-off of all such interesting "memes" down to some neutralized molecular "substance" such as "meme-substance" introduces a bias toward scientism and abandons the very essence of what makes ideas interesting, richly available, and worth studying.[24]
In other news, I'm planning to stick around San Antonio for about another month. I should be making my way to Indiana by early April, just in time for some warm weather and garden planting.
My nights have been full of dreams lately and the pages of my journal reflect crocodiles, sunken ships, adventures, and mysteries that I unconsciously encounter each night. I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote down something that I didn't understand at all. "How many femes are needed for manhood?" I thought that was the question posed to me by an unknown entity in the dream, but I wasn't sure about that word "femes. The first letter could have been an 'm' a 't' or something else. When I went to the Eck center the next day, I was greeted by Henry, an old devotee of the religion who gave me a cup of tea, lots of space, and free reign over the library. Before I left I asked him if the word memes was part of his religion. He said he'd never heard of it, but that often he will find that the meaning of mysterious dreams will become clear within a few days. He sent me off with more literature on Eckankar and never put any pressure on me to join his religion.
I forgot about the femes in the midst of my wanderings around San Antonio. Thomas Merton's book "Seven Story Mountain," has had me questioning the worth of protestantism as he argues so convincingly that the Catholic Church is the one true Church. I've also been regularly attending Sunday School and Worship at the San Antonio Mennonite Church. There I've been contemplating questions of intimacy, sexuality, and relationships with friends and members of the congregation. I've been wondering about the place of individuals within community, what kind of community I want to be part of, and whether any community will encourage my growth in love and truth like the Divine Love community in Australia. So, I've got four distinct faith paths vying for my attention at this point: Catholicism, Anabaptist Protestantism, Eckankar, and the Divine Love Path. Then I met Oscar Alvarado.
I was meandering around on my bicycle last Saturday, enjoying the beautiful weather, when I saw a striking mosaic sculpture in a front yard where a man and woman were talking. I stopped to say hello and inquire about the art piece, and within a couple minutes the artist, Oscar, asked if I wanted a job. He is starting an online business selling 3-speed vintage bicycles and needs someone to help clean up and repair the bikes. "Cool, let's go." So, I had a job for the afternoon. I worked a couple hours and made a little money while Oscar told me about his life as an artist, a building contractor, and an atheist. He argue convincingly for atheism and it didn't take long before I felt his words working their way into my mind and thoughts.
That evening a friend placed a TED video in front of my and I watched a woman talk about the importance of thanking others in the ways they need to be thanked. It wasn't very convincing, but then the mystery came full circle. I watched this video of Susan Blackmore explaining "memes" and her idea of "temes." http://www.ted.com/talks/susan_blackmore_on_memes_and_temes.html
Here's what Wikipedia says about memes: "memes identify ideas or beliefs that are transmitted from one person or group of people to another. The concept comes from an analogy: as genes transmit biological information, memes can be said to transmit ideas and belief information.A meme acts as a unit for carrying cultural ideas symbols or practices, which can be transmitted from one mind to another through writing, speech, gestures, rituals or other imitable phenomena. Supporters of the concept regard memes as cultural analogues to genes, in that they self-replicate, mutate and respond to selective pressures."
In her book The Meme Machine, Susan Blackmore regards religions as particularly tenacious memes." (Wikipedia).
All the religions and ideas that have found their ways into my mind can be thought of as things that want to be replicated. Regardless of whether or not the individuals within the religion want to spread it, the very existence of the religion as a concept is what seeks replication. It's unclear why some memes take such a prominent place in our society-suits and ties for instance- and why others die out-- like Beanie Babies. I'm also left wondering about how much choice I have in deciding which memes will be replicated in my life. Will I spread the teachings of one of these various religions or choose to believe in a purely scientific view of the world? For today, the only meme I'm spreading is the meme itself.And just to offer some balance to this meme machine, here's Wikipedia's note on the uncertainty surrounding the concept: In his chapter titled "Truth" published in the Encyclopedia of Phenomenology, Dieter Lohmar questions the memeticists' reduction of the highly complex body of ideas (such as religion, politics, war, justice, and science itself) to a putatively one-dimensional series of memes. He sees memes as an abstraction and such a reduction as failing to produce greater understanding of those ideas. The highly interconnected, multi-layering of ideas resists memetic simplification to an atomic or molecular form; as does the fact that each of our lives remains fully enmeshed and involved in such "memes". Lohmar argues that one cannot view memes through a microscope in the way one can detect genes. The leveling-off of all such interesting "memes" down to some neutralized molecular "substance" such as "meme-substance" introduces a bias toward scientism and abandons the very essence of what makes ideas interesting, richly available, and worth studying.[24]
In other news, I'm planning to stick around San Antonio for about another month. I should be making my way to Indiana by early April, just in time for some warm weather and garden planting.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Community & Fitting In
I've been in San Antonio, TX now for nearly three weeks and my plan is to stick around for another week or so. My hosts and friends here have shown me a degree of hospitality that gives new meaning to the word. My experiences here have been closely connected with Christians in both the Mennonite and Catholic faiths and I've attended services with both congregations. While I feel much more at home with the Mennonites, I'm so glad to have experienced the ACTS Catholic Mens' Retreat last weekend.
I had a hard time connecting to some of the Catholic ritual and tradition. The reciting of the Our Father and Hail Mary prayers, for example, stirred no deep, spiritual feelings in me. The experience of Confession, one of the seven Holy Sacraments, was very powerful for me. I was able to share some heavy burdens with a wonderful priest who helped me achieve a greater degree of forgiveness and self-acceptance than I imagined was possible. The men I met opened up to one another and became vulnerable in a very real and beautiful way. I was honored to witness and experience small pieces of their lives as they shared their stories and struggles. I also found them to be extremely supportive of my spiritual journey.
After returning to the home of Paul and Katherine Hess, my generous hosts who invited me to participate in the ACTS retreat, I received an invitation from Hannah Eash and her community in SE San Antonio to spend some time living with them. I took them up on the offer and the experience has been outstanding. The Mennonite Church they attend just finished a three week series of sermons, discussions, and intentional prayer time based on Henri Nouwen's book, "Reaching Out." I flew through the book in order to take part in some of the discussions and learn what Nouwen had to say about the three movements of the spiritual life: from loneliness to solitude, from hostility to hospitality, and from illusion to prayer. These are all ideas that I've spent much time contemplating and Nouwen's reflections offered me much more focused and refined food for thought. I want to look at the latter two movements.
First, moving from hostility to hospitality is something that I am currently experiencing in the "Vine House" community that has been hosting me for the last week. Nouwen's call is for community to be a place that invites in a stranger, not to be changed by or to conform to the way of the community, but to have space to find a more authentic way of being. That is exactly what I've found here. This colorful, comfortable house has been opened up to me as the three residents, Phillip, Hannah, and Michelle all go to work during the day. I am free to come and go as I please, to take part in meals or not, to be engaged or not. However, I also feel very welcomed and wanted here and there is a profound level of mutual respect and care for and between everyone in the community.
Now I'm comparing this new sense of community with some of the teachings I learned in Australia on the Divine Love Path. I just read a new blog by Mary, one of the teachers of Divine Love, all about our need to fit in and how this aching feeling pushes and pulls us all over as we seek to find "our place" and "our people." These are terms I've used often in the last few weeks as I try to explain to people what it is that I'm looking for. I want to find my place. And what does that mean? I want to fit in. And what does that mean? I don't want to feel the painful emotion of not belonging. I feel queasy as I write this because I really don't know what to do with these emotions. In the last few days I've been feeling more confident about eventually returning to Indiana, working on a community garden project, and then going out to Gould Farm to do some work. But when I spend some time reading and listening to Divine Love teachings, I realize just how deeply my motivations come from fear. The fear of not being accepted by friends and family. The fear of not belonging to a place. The fear of not having enough food or money or safety or support. The fear of feeling my emotions.
Nouwen points to God and the movement from illusion to prayer. I hold on to some hope that I can be part of normal society, maybe be part of the Mennonite Church and carve out a little life for myself somewhere like San Antonio. But God is not really at the center of these plans and desires. I say that I want to know my God and experience her love, and yet my actions prove otherwise. I have been using cookies and other foods to numb out the painful feelings and I have such minimal desires to really examine myself, my motivations, and my true emotions. I am doing better today and I want to move forward with stronger, purer intentions to rely on my Divine Mother's Love instead for comfort and healing. Nouwen suggests that prayer is something that cannot be separated from community life; that in order to move from illusion to prayer we must engage in this Divine Communion privately and always within the context of a supportive, prayerful community. I love this idea and it makes some sense to me. It doesn't necessarily contradict the Divine Love teachings either.
My future plans are to move to the home of Lisa and Clinton on Wednesday and to stay there for at least another week. I don't have any definite plans for the future, but I would still like to see the Grand Canyon and possibly visit some other friends and folks in Colorado. I have some fear about going west and out into the cold desert. Is my sleeping bag warm enough? Will I have enough food and water? These will be good tests of my faith and I pray that I continue to walk with God. I'll end with this Hesychast Prayer that Nouwen suggests, "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me." Although the language is not something I'm accustomed to, I have found it powerful and humbling.
I had a hard time connecting to some of the Catholic ritual and tradition. The reciting of the Our Father and Hail Mary prayers, for example, stirred no deep, spiritual feelings in me. The experience of Confession, one of the seven Holy Sacraments, was very powerful for me. I was able to share some heavy burdens with a wonderful priest who helped me achieve a greater degree of forgiveness and self-acceptance than I imagined was possible. The men I met opened up to one another and became vulnerable in a very real and beautiful way. I was honored to witness and experience small pieces of their lives as they shared their stories and struggles. I also found them to be extremely supportive of my spiritual journey.
After returning to the home of Paul and Katherine Hess, my generous hosts who invited me to participate in the ACTS retreat, I received an invitation from Hannah Eash and her community in SE San Antonio to spend some time living with them. I took them up on the offer and the experience has been outstanding. The Mennonite Church they attend just finished a three week series of sermons, discussions, and intentional prayer time based on Henri Nouwen's book, "Reaching Out." I flew through the book in order to take part in some of the discussions and learn what Nouwen had to say about the three movements of the spiritual life: from loneliness to solitude, from hostility to hospitality, and from illusion to prayer. These are all ideas that I've spent much time contemplating and Nouwen's reflections offered me much more focused and refined food for thought. I want to look at the latter two movements.
First, moving from hostility to hospitality is something that I am currently experiencing in the "Vine House" community that has been hosting me for the last week. Nouwen's call is for community to be a place that invites in a stranger, not to be changed by or to conform to the way of the community, but to have space to find a more authentic way of being. That is exactly what I've found here. This colorful, comfortable house has been opened up to me as the three residents, Phillip, Hannah, and Michelle all go to work during the day. I am free to come and go as I please, to take part in meals or not, to be engaged or not. However, I also feel very welcomed and wanted here and there is a profound level of mutual respect and care for and between everyone in the community.
Now I'm comparing this new sense of community with some of the teachings I learned in Australia on the Divine Love Path. I just read a new blog by Mary, one of the teachers of Divine Love, all about our need to fit in and how this aching feeling pushes and pulls us all over as we seek to find "our place" and "our people." These are terms I've used often in the last few weeks as I try to explain to people what it is that I'm looking for. I want to find my place. And what does that mean? I want to fit in. And what does that mean? I don't want to feel the painful emotion of not belonging. I feel queasy as I write this because I really don't know what to do with these emotions. In the last few days I've been feeling more confident about eventually returning to Indiana, working on a community garden project, and then going out to Gould Farm to do some work. But when I spend some time reading and listening to Divine Love teachings, I realize just how deeply my motivations come from fear. The fear of not being accepted by friends and family. The fear of not belonging to a place. The fear of not having enough food or money or safety or support. The fear of feeling my emotions.
Nouwen points to God and the movement from illusion to prayer. I hold on to some hope that I can be part of normal society, maybe be part of the Mennonite Church and carve out a little life for myself somewhere like San Antonio. But God is not really at the center of these plans and desires. I say that I want to know my God and experience her love, and yet my actions prove otherwise. I have been using cookies and other foods to numb out the painful feelings and I have such minimal desires to really examine myself, my motivations, and my true emotions. I am doing better today and I want to move forward with stronger, purer intentions to rely on my Divine Mother's Love instead for comfort and healing. Nouwen suggests that prayer is something that cannot be separated from community life; that in order to move from illusion to prayer we must engage in this Divine Communion privately and always within the context of a supportive, prayerful community. I love this idea and it makes some sense to me. It doesn't necessarily contradict the Divine Love teachings either.
My future plans are to move to the home of Lisa and Clinton on Wednesday and to stay there for at least another week. I don't have any definite plans for the future, but I would still like to see the Grand Canyon and possibly visit some other friends and folks in Colorado. I have some fear about going west and out into the cold desert. Is my sleeping bag warm enough? Will I have enough food and water? These will be good tests of my faith and I pray that I continue to walk with God. I'll end with this Hesychast Prayer that Nouwen suggests, "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me." Although the language is not something I'm accustomed to, I have found it powerful and humbling.
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