wasting away?

Sometimes I look at a bouquet of flowers and think, “How beautiful...but what a waste.” But perhaps it’s this type of thinking that’s gotten me into trouble. Now that I think about it, there are a great many things in life to which I can apply this same attitude. A five minute phone call…what a waste of time. A coin in a stranger’s bucket…probably will go to waste. An evening kiss when I walk through the door…is it really necessary?? When I think about it, almost everything in life can be seen as “a waste”…of time, of money, of energy, of resources. But it is this exact train of cynicism that robs life of meaning, value…and genuine beauty. While watching the recent travels of Anthony Bourdain in the mothership of beauty, leisure, and “waste”-Paris, I discovered that this mode of thought has even infiltrated the way of life for Parisians. He was conversing with culinary artists of the new generation, and they equated current culinary trends to pop music implying that classical has phased out. With this new wave, has come the value of efficiency, speed, and a “good enough” attitude. Three hour, five course works of art, it seems, are a dying breed. So what does this mean for our global cultural climate? If even the Parisians have been lured by technology crowning efficiency as lord of the new age, what will the rest of us do? For me, it will require a countercultural approach to living….an incredible intentionality to my relationships, to my time, to my exposure to the hypnotic powers that be. I want to see a bouquet of flowers and be amazed…by each petal’s structure, by the fragrant aroma, by the farmer who planted the seed and plucked it from the field. I want to see waste in a different light. I want to connect with the process…no matter how long that may take. Otherwise, life is just wasting away.

Return of the Cave Man

I'm afraid we've resurrected the caveman...and not just in Geico commercials. But it's not the lion skin clad, chest beating, neanderthal variety. No sir. Like its predecessor, the 21st century caveman has skills, but there's one alarming distinction: the armchair. Yes, unlike the prehistoric outdoorsman, the modern, or shall I say post-modern species lives inside his cave...and for that matter, works inside his cave, eats inside his cave, pays bills inside his cave...now that I think about it, does he ever leave his cave? Maybe...if he or one of his offspring are in grave danger. Hmmm, didn't it used to be the opposite...cave as refuge and not vice versa? So what...what's the big deal with a little innovation that makes the boring grown up stuff easier? I'm not exactly sure, but I think it could be making us stagnant, unintelligent, cowards. I said it could ok. I'm just a theorist, not a researcher. We're certainly less naturally active than we used to be. Nowadays, we have to schedule exercise in our day and calculate the duration and intensity to make sure we get enough of it so that our heart keeps working. I'm pretty sure that in primitive days and presently in many countries across the globe, there was/is no shortage of physical activity in daily life, and they never stopped/stop to check a pulse while wrestling a wild boar. There were no treadmills, dumbbells, or factories designed to get people physically fit. It just happened because people actually lived active lives.

Today, the human pulse is still beating, but to a different drum. It also seems like the resurrected cave life has diluted our social intelligence. After hundreds of years, all of the sudden we're back at "Me Tarzan. You Jane." We've resorted to one dimensional, faceless means of communicating as our primary way to connect with the human race. Now, the typed word supersedes the voice, a collection of keypad symbols mimic the face, and profile pictures tell the story we want everyone to hear. But is it the truth? More than ever, people have control of the image they project to the world, and marketing that is everything. Somehow, we muster up the courage to bad mouth so and so and utter things we wouldn't dare say while looking another human being in the eyes and saying it to their face. Speaking of, has anyone else noticed this younger generation's inability to make eye contact? I realize that's a harsh generalization, but there seems to be an epidemic of avoidance, especially when there is a controversial or important matter to discuss. And aren't the eyes the window to the soul?? If that's the case, then we're all just living in caves as I imagined.

But maybe I have it all wrong. Perhaps the modern caveman is seeking refuge...and his cave really is the only safe place to be free...from the noise of the highway, the crowd in the supermarket...the people he just doesn't want to see. Maybe the modern caveman is onto something...a quiet, solitary life skipping through fairytales in cyberspace, where he can select which character in the story he plays and for how long. He lives in a land where the imagined is real, social interaction is selective, and noise is optional. Perhaps living in the armchair on Papa John's and PBR in the post-primitive era is actually the new....survival.

Saint Elsewhere

Saint Elsewhere is no saint at all

But a man of mischief

Pitching tents in imaginary lands

Of foreign domain

While the grass on which

His feet are planted

Withers away into brown

Slowly dying, to dust it returns

As brittle bones plagued by disease

Saint Elsewhere is no saint at all

But a sly robber, a taker

Of happiness, stealth, zest for today

He boasts of greener pastures and fruits

Sweeter than fine honey

But he is a man of fairy tales

Delusions that snatch him from now

Saint Elsewhere is a mockery to his own name

A demon masked by the sun's rays at day,

The moon's shadow at night

Saint Elsewhere to thy grave you go

On with you

Rest in peace