i believe in living.
i believe in the spectrum
of Beta days and Gamma people.
i believe in sunshine.
In windmills and waterfalls,
tricycles and rocking chairs;
And i believe that seeds grow into sprouts.
And sprouts grow into trees.
i believe in the magic of the hands.
And in the wisdom of the eyes.
i believe in rain and tears.
And in the blood of infinity.
i believe in life.
And i have seen the death parade
march through the torso of the earth,
sculpting mud bodies in its path
i have seen the destruction of the daylight
and seen bloodthirsty maggots
prayed to and saluted
i have seen the kind become the blind
and the blind become the bind
in one easy lesson.
i have walked on cut grass.
i have eaten crow and blunder bread
and breathed the stench of indifference
i have been locked by the lawless.
Handcuffed by the haters.
Gagged by the greedy. And, if i know anything at all, it's that a wall is just a wall and nothing more at all. It can be broken down.
i believe in living
i believe in birth.
i believe in the sweat of love
and in the fire of truth.
And i believe that a lost ship,
steered by tired, seasick sailors,
can still be guided home to port.
Ladies and gentlemen of the internet, I - Erin Davidson Farmer - am in a book club. I'm in three book clubs in fact. I'm in three book clubs in which I read about 30% of 30% of the books that are suggested and read. But I am, still, in a book club.
Today was the fateful day in which I might have actually read a major portion of and attended an actual meeting of the aforementioned book club(s). As time and tide would have it however, I was sick. I figure that this might be the perfect opportunity to relinquish my thoughts upon the world in the same old way I used to: the good old-fashioned blog post.
Our book this time around was "An Anthropologist on Mars" by Oliver Sacks. I should start by saying, I love Oliver Sacks. I don't know anybody who couldn't love Oliver Sacks - I mean, if they tried even a little. He was a weightlifter, a writer, a neurologist, a great proponent of fruit and the British, and a lover of all things truly mysterious.
If I had gone to book club today, I would have spoken about the following quotation from our book; Sacks is referring to an experiment done in which colors were seen present in an image but not presented in the image at all (conjure up some memory of the blue/black or white/gold dress debacle and you'll have the picture):
"These demonstrations, overwhelming in their simplicity and impact were color "illusions" in Goethe's sense, but illusions that demonstrated a neurological truth - that colors are not "out there" in the world, nor (as classical theory held) an automatic correlate of wavelength, but rather, are constructed by the brain."
That's right.
What we see as red, or blue, or any shade in between, is a projection of more than the anatomy of our eyes, but the desire, function, and fault of our brains.
So what does this have to do with us?
I think you can flesh must of it out from this other statement of Oliver's:
“Every act of perception, is to some degree an act of creation, and every act of memory is to some degree an act of imagination, "(Musicophilia).
The thing I have been thinking about in reading this book is how very much that seems stable and sure, is really fold over fold of a thousand layers of assumption. These colors are like the layers of a tree, laid down year after year of perception, climate, and time. They come out bold at the end, strong and sure as hell - but nonetheless, like paper tigers.
Nothing is more like this than human relationship.
Once upon a time I dabbled in playwriting.
No, I am not making this up.
As part of a study for my playwriting, I spent a lot of time analyzing the way that conversation works. We think of all conversations as going something like this:
Person #1: Hey there! How are you?
Person #2: Doing fine, how are YOU?
Person #1: Not too shabby myself. Hoping for a change in the weather soon.
Person #2: I know! Gray days are the worst!
But they really go something like this:
Person #1 & Person #2: Hey! What's up? Hi! How are you??
Person #1 (fumbling with phone and headphones): I'm late! I'm going over to a thing.
Person #2 (avoiding eye contact, avoiding lingering, sensing a rush): Yeah, hey, I know, all good...
Person #1 (interrupting) Yeah, catch you later! Sorry about all that!
One conversation is layers of understanding, layers of assumption, layers of color. And most of it, most of the time makes no sense.
It reminds me of this scene from I Heart Huckabees:
The real way we know each other is the space between. Our relationships are composed of millions of decisions. Our decisions are based on color, smell, feel, and the basest of senses. We float towards each other and away one microscopic movement at a time. Who knows why this way and not that?
It is unfathomable. And it does take trust. It takes trust to believe that we have any control at all over who we are, what we see, and what we do.
I try to remember this when I feel like I am misunderstood or have misunderstood. It has taken a million steps for a perspective to be made. I am not the only part of someone else's perspective that matters. I am not the only part of that perspective that could change. I am not the only part of that perspective that might NEED to change.
What we can affect may feel like moving mountains, but it starts with what we choose to see. This shift in and of itself might be the biggest, and most important shift of all.
This to me, is a challenging thought, almost a dangerous one, but I like it. If I were to make a list of all of things that I choose to see that may not be real I'm sure the list would be long, and jarring (I know this, because I have made this list.)
I think these thoughts would taste a little better to the palate with some chicken chili.
I'd like to step up on a pedestal for just one moment and have a good think about the point. What is the point of the race? The race to win. The race to compete at all. The race to be healthy, look your best, or do something you've never done before. What is the point?
I feel that in thinking about this you must do as you would with anything else: begin with the end in mind.
When you get to your goal - whatever it is - when you finish it - when you complete the journey - what is the feeling that you feel? What is the moment like? Can you say that the work was worth it? Can you say that you travelled honorably? That you were made a better person by the trail? Or that you improved the lives of those around you by taking up the task?
The finish line to me feels like this: you cross, you smile, and you immediately think about what is next. Whether it's brunch, or a little bit of crying with a friend, or a blog post, or simply, a series of thank you's - after the finish line, life is still waiting. Normalcy is still there. A new challenge still waits. The allure of the race is still alive.
What comes with the win: a new job, new friend, new lover, new money, new-found fame or anything else is sooner or later inconsequential apart from how you begin to feel it defines you. The truth is whether you have money or don't or whether you have a gold medal or not - you are still you.
The perpetual challenge is to remember that the race gets us all to the same place - a time when we will look back and consider how we've spent our time.
These are honest thoughts, but honesty like truth is, as many of you know, a powerful and life-changing thing. Honest thoughts lead to overhauls. To me, honest thoughts have always lead to the right, though difficult decision.
I would like to say that all this honesty boils down to one (rather kitschy but nonetheless true) conclusion: we must all run the race in good company - often, in the company of people we don't get to choose. If we can improve the circumstances, if we can lift someone up when things get difficult, if we can do better than we are and learn from trying, we should do that.
Why?
Because that is what we will REALLY be thinking when we cross the finish line. We will remember every moment we didn't think we could handle one more step, every day that we committed to trying after failing, and every person that came alongside us along the road. All achievements in the world are more memorable for the earning of them.
“Do the things that interest you and do them with all your heart. Don't be concerned about whether people are watching you or criticizing you. The chances are that they aren't paying any attention to you. It's your attention to yourself that is so stultifying. But you have to disregard yourself as completely as possible. If you fail the first time then you'll just have to try harder the second time. After all, there's no real reason why you should fail. Just stop thinking about yourself.” -Eleanor Roosevelt
