Lately the debate between nature and nurture in terms of particular skills has again come to fore, at least to my own mind. Discussion of Lance Armstrong's alleged use of steroids by former teamates has produced a flurry of print material on the subject. One such editorial appeared in the local paper today, stating essentially that elite athletes are freaks of nature, and no amount of steroid use could ever take an average person and make them an athletic elite.
My reading of Dr. Tim Noakes, the author discussed in yesterday's post, reinforces this interpretation by highlighting the role that genetic endowment plays in elite performance. It is a concept I have struggled against for several years, holding out that a top-level time for whatever level I was competing at (high school, college, etc.) was simply a matter of motivation. "Just train a lot" was the mantra for many years, during which I stopped swimming competitively, ran more than I had ever run in my life, and took to reading the major interpretations of distance training. The results were mixed, with some improved times, especially in the longer events (8km and 10km).
The genetic endownment side of things is countered, to my knowledge, by the environmental-factors school, which suggests that one's environment and habits constitute the most important element of elite performance. Sociologists appear to advocate this position more or less, and well as such popular authors as Malcolm Gladwell and Larry Gluck (authors of Outliers and The Talent Myth respectively). The thought in the latter two works is that so-called "smart" and "talented" people are overrated, and that practice and environmental factors are more useful in explaining the performace of the greats than their genetic endowment. In Gladwell's book Outliers, he points to specific opportunities and outside help that so-called "talented" individuals had on their way to success, and how that help allowed them to acquire the roughly 10,000 hours of practice necessary to acquire expertise with a cetain skill. In short, it was the environment that made the individual successful, and not a favorable biological endowment.
Little is clear to me on this at present, though I have embraced each school of thinking at the expense of other off and on for several years. The point is that both schools provide important insight into a fundamental interest for many people, which is maximizing one's potential in such activities and fields which that person enjoys. Indeed, it is in the collective interest of all of us that this goal be achieved, as it is not only the individual who benefits from a maximized potential, but all of society as well. The necessity of bearing genetic limitations in mind while developing a craft through rigorous practice would seem to require a special balance, the distribution of which depends on the peculiar personalities and environment of the individual.
The improvement of society by the maximization of individual potential require a specific group of people who can provide this service for people with a regularity that defies the highly individual nature of human beings. These "coaches," if we may use the word, can be found through all facets of society, though their quality is not always good. Perhaps we should look for these "coaches" if we wish to study the process of talent cultivation in society.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Bill Bowerman and the Central Governor Theory
Today was the Champions' League Final between Barcelona and Manchester United. For those who don't know, the Champions' League is a competition among elite European Football (or soccer) clubs, which compete in a tournament style until the final game, which was today. It was the first Champions' League final I'd ever seen, as this was the first year I had become more fully aware of the wider world of soccer, both in the United States and abroad. At any rate, Barcelona won the game 3-1, and did so without resorting to diving and play-acting.
While watching the game, I remembered a line from Kenny Moore's biography on Bill Bowerman, in which Bowerman describes in a few words one of the goals of his training methods; in short, he meant to "callous" a runner so that he could race well. The line had been interesting when I read the book last year, but it proved especially interesting today, given the soccer match on television, as well as some reading I've been doing by a doctor named Tim Noakes. Dr. Noakes wrote a long book entitled "The Lore of Running," which is a fascinating and very erudite examination of much of the literature on all aspects of running from the last century. One of the unique things about Noakes' work, for me at least, is his rejection of the usual aerobic/anaerobic explanation of running performance.
The standard model upon which most every running program I've ever studied are based is that the single greatest inhibitor to endurance performace is the ability of the working muscles to take in sufficient oxygen to continue working. I am not a physiologist, nor do I have extensive instruction in the field, so please bear with my rather simplistic explanation, if you will.
The cells in a resting muscle produce energy aerobically, because the amount of oxygen reaching those muscles is sufficient for the cells' oxygen needs. When running easy, this continues to be the case, and it is consequently called "aerobic" running. As one runs faster, the oxygen demands of the muscle become greater, until a point is reached where the oxygen demands of the working muscle cells become too great for the body. It is at this point that running becomes "anaerobic," because the muscles begin producing energy without sufficient oxygen. In some types of cells, the consequence of anaerobic respiration is alcohol. Were human cells to function in this way, it may be that the person who runs too fast for his or her muscles to function aerobically could become progressively more and more drunk; no doubt such an adaption has long been purged from the human gene pool, if it was ever there, by the predators (can you imagine running away from a lion while rapidly becoming more and more drunk?). At any rate, human muscles have a limited capacity to produce energy anaerobically, which is very costly and not very efficient. The orthodox goal of a running program, so I have learned, was to improve both of these systems so that one could run faster over the desired race distance.
Then I read Arthur Lydiard, a famous New Zealand coach who is very important in discussions on distance running training. If you've never heard of him, you won't have trouble finding information (and misinformation) about him. At any rate, his big idea was essentially that of the two ways of producing energy in the human body, the aerobic was the true limiting factor to endurance performance, while the anaerobic was limited, relatively immutable, and only important during the peak races of the year. His training philosophy sought to build up the aerobic capacity as high as possible, then maximize the limited anaerobic capacity just before the big race. The direction of training through most of the year, therefore, became the development of the aerobic capacity to exercise.
Lydiard's system is very logical, though some of his explanations and training schedules can be confusing. He repeatedly writes that he does not like writing training schedules, since everyone is different and should figure out their own, but the schedules he does write are are sub-divided into a number of phases that can be hard to follow sometimes. At any rate, this particular paradigm serves a lot of people today, and has been tremendously influential in the running community and beyond.
Yet Dr. Noakes seems to have a slightly different idea in mind. I'm afraid my lack of physiology will do me even worse in describing it, but I will do my best. Essentially, Dr. Noakes believes that the aerobic/anaerobic model does not adequately explain how the body actually appears to respond to intense exercise. According to the evidence Dr. Noakes examines, it is not the amount of oxygen in the working muscles that determines performance, but rather the amount of oxygen in the heart (and picked up on by the brain), that determines performace. This idea forms one aspect of a complex theory called the Central Governor model, which holds that performance is determined by the brain desire to maintain a sufficiently safe homeostasis for the preserveration of life. In short, the sub-conscious brain governs how hard one is able to push the body in training and competition.
It's an interesting if complex theory, and it brings me back to the point made earlier about Bowerman's training philosophy of "callousing." Dr. Noakes speculates at times that part of the purpose of intense training before competiton is to attempt to "reset" the Central Governor to tolerate greater pain and physiological distress before forcing the body to ease up. These speculations seem similar to Bowerman's thought that certain types of training and racing could help "callous" a person physically and mentally, making them tougher during races, and able to push themselves closer to their true potential ability. To what extent the two ideas are congruent is not entirely clear, but it does seem possible that Bowerman's intuition had picked up on this function of training in a way that the usual aerobic/anaerobic paradigm of his day does not seem to have accounted. It is something to consider.
While watching the game, I remembered a line from Kenny Moore's biography on Bill Bowerman, in which Bowerman describes in a few words one of the goals of his training methods; in short, he meant to "callous" a runner so that he could race well. The line had been interesting when I read the book last year, but it proved especially interesting today, given the soccer match on television, as well as some reading I've been doing by a doctor named Tim Noakes. Dr. Noakes wrote a long book entitled "The Lore of Running," which is a fascinating and very erudite examination of much of the literature on all aspects of running from the last century. One of the unique things about Noakes' work, for me at least, is his rejection of the usual aerobic/anaerobic explanation of running performance.
The standard model upon which most every running program I've ever studied are based is that the single greatest inhibitor to endurance performace is the ability of the working muscles to take in sufficient oxygen to continue working. I am not a physiologist, nor do I have extensive instruction in the field, so please bear with my rather simplistic explanation, if you will.
The cells in a resting muscle produce energy aerobically, because the amount of oxygen reaching those muscles is sufficient for the cells' oxygen needs. When running easy, this continues to be the case, and it is consequently called "aerobic" running. As one runs faster, the oxygen demands of the muscle become greater, until a point is reached where the oxygen demands of the working muscle cells become too great for the body. It is at this point that running becomes "anaerobic," because the muscles begin producing energy without sufficient oxygen. In some types of cells, the consequence of anaerobic respiration is alcohol. Were human cells to function in this way, it may be that the person who runs too fast for his or her muscles to function aerobically could become progressively more and more drunk; no doubt such an adaption has long been purged from the human gene pool, if it was ever there, by the predators (can you imagine running away from a lion while rapidly becoming more and more drunk?). At any rate, human muscles have a limited capacity to produce energy anaerobically, which is very costly and not very efficient. The orthodox goal of a running program, so I have learned, was to improve both of these systems so that one could run faster over the desired race distance.
Then I read Arthur Lydiard, a famous New Zealand coach who is very important in discussions on distance running training. If you've never heard of him, you won't have trouble finding information (and misinformation) about him. At any rate, his big idea was essentially that of the two ways of producing energy in the human body, the aerobic was the true limiting factor to endurance performance, while the anaerobic was limited, relatively immutable, and only important during the peak races of the year. His training philosophy sought to build up the aerobic capacity as high as possible, then maximize the limited anaerobic capacity just before the big race. The direction of training through most of the year, therefore, became the development of the aerobic capacity to exercise.
Lydiard's system is very logical, though some of his explanations and training schedules can be confusing. He repeatedly writes that he does not like writing training schedules, since everyone is different and should figure out their own, but the schedules he does write are are sub-divided into a number of phases that can be hard to follow sometimes. At any rate, this particular paradigm serves a lot of people today, and has been tremendously influential in the running community and beyond.
Yet Dr. Noakes seems to have a slightly different idea in mind. I'm afraid my lack of physiology will do me even worse in describing it, but I will do my best. Essentially, Dr. Noakes believes that the aerobic/anaerobic model does not adequately explain how the body actually appears to respond to intense exercise. According to the evidence Dr. Noakes examines, it is not the amount of oxygen in the working muscles that determines performance, but rather the amount of oxygen in the heart (and picked up on by the brain), that determines performace. This idea forms one aspect of a complex theory called the Central Governor model, which holds that performance is determined by the brain desire to maintain a sufficiently safe homeostasis for the preserveration of life. In short, the sub-conscious brain governs how hard one is able to push the body in training and competition.
It's an interesting if complex theory, and it brings me back to the point made earlier about Bowerman's training philosophy of "callousing." Dr. Noakes speculates at times that part of the purpose of intense training before competiton is to attempt to "reset" the Central Governor to tolerate greater pain and physiological distress before forcing the body to ease up. These speculations seem similar to Bowerman's thought that certain types of training and racing could help "callous" a person physically and mentally, making them tougher during races, and able to push themselves closer to their true potential ability. To what extent the two ideas are congruent is not entirely clear, but it does seem possible that Bowerman's intuition had picked up on this function of training in a way that the usual aerobic/anaerobic paradigm of his day does not seem to have accounted. It is something to consider.
Friday, May 27, 2011
microcosm
Yesterday I walked over to the old air-base which the township converted into a park maybe seven years ago. It had been a while since last I was there, and though it was hot, I decided to brave the open sky for a little walk down the runway.
As usual, I was struck by how much life actually exists in the park. As the sky is so open there (a pre-requisite for an air base), I haven't run there as much in the spring/summer as I have during the winter because the sun can be considerable, and the heat equally so. Obviously during the colder months there are fewer signs of wild-life and vegetation. At any rate, just walking down the runway reminded me of a thought I have had on several occasions over the past few years. In short, there are a wide variety of habitats within the confines of the old base, resulting in a wide variety of organisms and plants that inhabit those habitats.
There is the pond, where Geese often frequent, and where cattails grown in the warm months. There are short trees that the township planted along the perimeter path, where bluebird and barnswallows build their nests. The open fields which aren't regular cut are home to a whole host of seen and unseen creatures, some that I know and many others I do not. In the evening, it is not uncommon to see deer moving through the meadows, doing what deer do. There are some older trees among the grass, and there one can observe hawks and vultures. In the southeast corner of the base there is a forested section, where deer, squirrels, and the usual assortment of songbirds dwell. I've even seen a fox there once. Just to the north of the trees is a section of lowland swamps, where yesterday I saw half-a-dozen Red-winged Blackbirds, as well as some fast-walking brown birds whose name I do not know. The plant growth is extensive in the swamps, and many different plants can be found there.
In short, a park of only a few miles plays host to a wide variety of habitats and organisms. Walking the perimeter of the place is like taking a pilgrimage through several different lands. It is enjoyable :). And it is perhaps possible to discover such worlds in microcosm with one's own town. Go have a look.
As usual, I was struck by how much life actually exists in the park. As the sky is so open there (a pre-requisite for an air base), I haven't run there as much in the spring/summer as I have during the winter because the sun can be considerable, and the heat equally so. Obviously during the colder months there are fewer signs of wild-life and vegetation. At any rate, just walking down the runway reminded me of a thought I have had on several occasions over the past few years. In short, there are a wide variety of habitats within the confines of the old base, resulting in a wide variety of organisms and plants that inhabit those habitats.
There is the pond, where Geese often frequent, and where cattails grown in the warm months. There are short trees that the township planted along the perimeter path, where bluebird and barnswallows build their nests. The open fields which aren't regular cut are home to a whole host of seen and unseen creatures, some that I know and many others I do not. In the evening, it is not uncommon to see deer moving through the meadows, doing what deer do. There are some older trees among the grass, and there one can observe hawks and vultures. In the southeast corner of the base there is a forested section, where deer, squirrels, and the usual assortment of songbirds dwell. I've even seen a fox there once. Just to the north of the trees is a section of lowland swamps, where yesterday I saw half-a-dozen Red-winged Blackbirds, as well as some fast-walking brown birds whose name I do not know. The plant growth is extensive in the swamps, and many different plants can be found there.
In short, a park of only a few miles plays host to a wide variety of habitats and organisms. Walking the perimeter of the place is like taking a pilgrimage through several different lands. It is enjoyable :). And it is perhaps possible to discover such worlds in microcosm with one's own town. Go have a look.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
the robot attitude
A sunny day greets us today on the mountain, a soft wind brushing the trees like the breath of a loved one across one's cheek. I've yet to spot a cloud today, though the newspaper says it will be cloudy by nightfall. We shall see.
In yesterday's post, we talked about the mannerism of robots, and how such "mechanical" and strict-to-law behavior can sometimes provide a valuable example for humans. Today, I would like to expand to upon the idea by discussing a more human-oriented topic regarding attitude.
So to start, perhaps we should consider how one might define "attitude." A dictionary definition describes attitude as a disposition, manner, tendency, or orientation, especially regarding the mind. In this manner, we might think of attitude as the ways in which the mind is both organized and directed toward the appraisal of a particular situation, or the completion of a particular task.
The robots as described in the robot novels I'm reading posess something of an "attitude," in the sense that some robots are programmed to weigh certain priorities differently from their peers. See, the governing logic of robots (aside from the Three Laws) rests on the priority of efficiency. Under certain circumstances, however, maximum efficiency is achievable only by counter-intuitive means, the gains-to-trade idea of economics providing one possible example of this. At any rate, certain robots must be programmed with a certain "values" prioritized over pure logic in order to achieve an efficient result. We might call this a robot's "attitude," because it describes the robot's disposition and orientation on certain issues. Calling it as such, however, is problematic since a robot with "programmed" dispositions cannot in fact act otherwise, and is therefore without choice.
In humans, however, attitude doesn't seem programmed in so much as ingrained more or less into the mind as a collection of habits, beliefs, and experiences.While one's attitude may affect one's choice in a particular situation, a person is not bound by the attitude to choose one way or the other; rather, it would seem they are influenced more or less in one direction or the other. A person's attitude seems to allow for more choice than a robot, because the human is not bound, in most cases, to a fixed program in the mind to choose one way or the other. One might be conditioned to choose a particular course in most cases, but that is not the same thing as programming.
Importantly, both the "attitude" of a robot and the attitudes of people are adaptive and maladaptive depending on the circumstance. Sometimes a "programmed" response in people is quite adaptive for their purposes, such as with activities that must be performed very quickly and without any conscious thought. Musicians practice scales, arpeggios, various other patterns because they appear often in music, and having them well-engrained in the musical intellect allows them to do more as musicians. Law enforcement officers receive specific forms of training with their firearms and decision-making so that even under considerable stress and rapidity of circumstance a police officer can perform the task at hand properly. Percy Cerutty (1895-1975), a famous coach from Austrialia who coached Herb Eliott, spoke of training the body so that it could respond in competition without requiring the conscious mind to act as it should.
In short, people in various professions seek to train themselves in a skill so that they can perform the task without thinking, in effect becoming a "robot" for a moment. For actual robots, every moment would seem to be unconscious, since in every moment the robot operates according to programming. For humans, this would seem a temporary measure, borne out by the need to perform while greatly distracted by various things. As much as we may wish to deny it, the highly-trained individual would seem to be in the business of preparing him or herself to become a robot in the moments of most peril. Isn't that odd?
In yesterday's post, we talked about the mannerism of robots, and how such "mechanical" and strict-to-law behavior can sometimes provide a valuable example for humans. Today, I would like to expand to upon the idea by discussing a more human-oriented topic regarding attitude.
So to start, perhaps we should consider how one might define "attitude." A dictionary definition describes attitude as a disposition, manner, tendency, or orientation, especially regarding the mind. In this manner, we might think of attitude as the ways in which the mind is both organized and directed toward the appraisal of a particular situation, or the completion of a particular task.
The robots as described in the robot novels I'm reading posess something of an "attitude," in the sense that some robots are programmed to weigh certain priorities differently from their peers. See, the governing logic of robots (aside from the Three Laws) rests on the priority of efficiency. Under certain circumstances, however, maximum efficiency is achievable only by counter-intuitive means, the gains-to-trade idea of economics providing one possible example of this. At any rate, certain robots must be programmed with a certain "values" prioritized over pure logic in order to achieve an efficient result. We might call this a robot's "attitude," because it describes the robot's disposition and orientation on certain issues. Calling it as such, however, is problematic since a robot with "programmed" dispositions cannot in fact act otherwise, and is therefore without choice.
In humans, however, attitude doesn't seem programmed in so much as ingrained more or less into the mind as a collection of habits, beliefs, and experiences.While one's attitude may affect one's choice in a particular situation, a person is not bound by the attitude to choose one way or the other; rather, it would seem they are influenced more or less in one direction or the other. A person's attitude seems to allow for more choice than a robot, because the human is not bound, in most cases, to a fixed program in the mind to choose one way or the other. One might be conditioned to choose a particular course in most cases, but that is not the same thing as programming.
Importantly, both the "attitude" of a robot and the attitudes of people are adaptive and maladaptive depending on the circumstance. Sometimes a "programmed" response in people is quite adaptive for their purposes, such as with activities that must be performed very quickly and without any conscious thought. Musicians practice scales, arpeggios, various other patterns because they appear often in music, and having them well-engrained in the musical intellect allows them to do more as musicians. Law enforcement officers receive specific forms of training with their firearms and decision-making so that even under considerable stress and rapidity of circumstance a police officer can perform the task at hand properly. Percy Cerutty (1895-1975), a famous coach from Austrialia who coached Herb Eliott, spoke of training the body so that it could respond in competition without requiring the conscious mind to act as it should.
In short, people in various professions seek to train themselves in a skill so that they can perform the task without thinking, in effect becoming a "robot" for a moment. For actual robots, every moment would seem to be unconscious, since in every moment the robot operates according to programming. For humans, this would seem a temporary measure, borne out by the need to perform while greatly distracted by various things. As much as we may wish to deny it, the highly-trained individual would seem to be in the business of preparing him or herself to become a robot in the moments of most peril. Isn't that odd?
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
the polite robot
Humid day on the mountain, but at least it is sunny. Some northern parts of the county were placed under a tornado warning last night, which quite dangerous since it means the radar has detected either strong circulation within a storm, or has in fact detected a tornado. In either case, you probably don't want a tornado warning issued to your area.
I've been reading some robot novels I found in the Ursinus donation tent last year by some aspiring authors who wrote some stories based on Isaac Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics. I was a bit disappointed when I realized the stories weren't by Asimov, but after giving the first book a few chapters to warm-up I've been absolutely hooked. The stories are great, dealing with some big issues that arise as a result of the robotic laws.
A lot of minor things strike me about the situations that emerge as a result of these laws, but one most particularly is the type of behavior the robots exhibit while following these laws; in dealing with humans, the robots are incredibly polite. Consider the First Law, which states (and I'm not quoting directly) that a robot may not harm a human, or by neglect allow a human to come to harm. As a result, robots end up being protective, considerate, and gentle in the stories about them (the ones I have read anyway). In the last story, even, a robot even "died" in order to save the life of a human, which while perfectly compatibile with the three laws is nevertheless an interesting act for a robot to perform.
In short, perhaps people could learn something from the robots of these stories. They protect people and work diligently to do no harm to them. They harbor no ill-feelings toward people, and perform their work logically and with little complaint. They serve those around them, and even perform heroic deeds from time to time. They lack creativity, but they have a penchant for order and quality to service. There is something to be said for polite, well-meaning behavior from a machine. Pay attention now :)
I've been reading some robot novels I found in the Ursinus donation tent last year by some aspiring authors who wrote some stories based on Isaac Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics. I was a bit disappointed when I realized the stories weren't by Asimov, but after giving the first book a few chapters to warm-up I've been absolutely hooked. The stories are great, dealing with some big issues that arise as a result of the robotic laws.
A lot of minor things strike me about the situations that emerge as a result of these laws, but one most particularly is the type of behavior the robots exhibit while following these laws; in dealing with humans, the robots are incredibly polite. Consider the First Law, which states (and I'm not quoting directly) that a robot may not harm a human, or by neglect allow a human to come to harm. As a result, robots end up being protective, considerate, and gentle in the stories about them (the ones I have read anyway). In the last story, even, a robot even "died" in order to save the life of a human, which while perfectly compatibile with the three laws is nevertheless an interesting act for a robot to perform.
In short, perhaps people could learn something from the robots of these stories. They protect people and work diligently to do no harm to them. They harbor no ill-feelings toward people, and perform their work logically and with little complaint. They serve those around them, and even perform heroic deeds from time to time. They lack creativity, but they have a penchant for order and quality to service. There is something to be said for polite, well-meaning behavior from a machine. Pay attention now :)
Monday, May 23, 2011
Prodigy piano and care-free playing
Yesterday I went down to the city to hear my old roomate play at one might be called a "mass-recital" of about 30 different performers. For the most part the other performers seemed to range from ages 7 to 16, which left poor roomate as an old outlier. The way as I see it, anyone my old roomate's age who can play like he can play is either going to or graduated from music school, or has simply lost interest and motivation to play such difficult music. At any rate, it was an interesting experience.
The environment was interesting as well. Musical "prodigies," if the term might be used, are different from older musicians in more ways than just age. Their playing is pleasant to listen to, but it is also quite mechanical, which is not surprising given the usual way musical pieces are often learned. First one learns the sheer mechanics of playing the notes on the page as they are with accuracy, proper tempo, and correct articulation. Then one learns about phrasing, dynamics, and various other more advanced techniques which give the music some life character beyond the score, as it were.
After that, the subtlies become more intense to my experience, and each musician goes about developing an understanding of the music so as to play it all the better. And it is this type of playing that seems most to differentiate young musical stars from their older counterparts (aside from additional hours or playing). Young folks have a limited experience that makes it difficult for them to carry their playing into some of the more emotional depths. Sometimes a player begins to play with such feeling at an early age, but it seems quite rare, and it is likely such a feeling would only be enhanced with experience. The point is, piano prodigies such as I saw yesterday serve as good reminders that our talents, brilliant as they might be at a young age, have the potential to be improved with greater experience and age.
Which brings us back to a familar theme, namely that of maintaining a strong focus on one's practice and development rather than on other's appraisal of that practice. Our society makes a big deal about consistently judging its most talented and potentially successful individuals from almost as early as possible. This can place additional pressure on the individual who is trying to develop, and depending on that individual's personality, such pressure could either cook them or compel them to a new level, or so the usual understanding seems to go.
Watching those piano players yesterday, I wondered what it would be like for them if they could flip a switch and not care a damn what any of us in the room felt about their playing. Maybe some of them already felt this way, but maybe not. How would they feel their appraisal of the situation did not include the opinions of judgments of others? I can't answer for them, but in considering the question, I wonder if they might not feel liberated in a way. The matter becomes one of you and the piano, working together to make beautiful music. Beautiful to whom? Doesn't matter, it's the act of playing that makes the experience beautiful. Each encounter becomes a chance to improve one's craft, and gain that experience which makes music all the more touching. Everything else is just bull shit.
The environment was interesting as well. Musical "prodigies," if the term might be used, are different from older musicians in more ways than just age. Their playing is pleasant to listen to, but it is also quite mechanical, which is not surprising given the usual way musical pieces are often learned. First one learns the sheer mechanics of playing the notes on the page as they are with accuracy, proper tempo, and correct articulation. Then one learns about phrasing, dynamics, and various other more advanced techniques which give the music some life character beyond the score, as it were.
After that, the subtlies become more intense to my experience, and each musician goes about developing an understanding of the music so as to play it all the better. And it is this type of playing that seems most to differentiate young musical stars from their older counterparts (aside from additional hours or playing). Young folks have a limited experience that makes it difficult for them to carry their playing into some of the more emotional depths. Sometimes a player begins to play with such feeling at an early age, but it seems quite rare, and it is likely such a feeling would only be enhanced with experience. The point is, piano prodigies such as I saw yesterday serve as good reminders that our talents, brilliant as they might be at a young age, have the potential to be improved with greater experience and age.
Which brings us back to a familar theme, namely that of maintaining a strong focus on one's practice and development rather than on other's appraisal of that practice. Our society makes a big deal about consistently judging its most talented and potentially successful individuals from almost as early as possible. This can place additional pressure on the individual who is trying to develop, and depending on that individual's personality, such pressure could either cook them or compel them to a new level, or so the usual understanding seems to go.
Watching those piano players yesterday, I wondered what it would be like for them if they could flip a switch and not care a damn what any of us in the room felt about their playing. Maybe some of them already felt this way, but maybe not. How would they feel their appraisal of the situation did not include the opinions of judgments of others? I can't answer for them, but in considering the question, I wonder if they might not feel liberated in a way. The matter becomes one of you and the piano, working together to make beautiful music. Beautiful to whom? Doesn't matter, it's the act of playing that makes the experience beautiful. Each encounter becomes a chance to improve one's craft, and gain that experience which makes music all the more touching. Everything else is just bull shit.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
The New Marshall Plan
What strikingly beautiful weather we have today, with brilliant sunshine, some puffy clouds, and a moderate temperature without humidity. The trees and flowers seem delighted by the light, of which they have seen very little this past week. It is one week since graduation, and the sun appeared only occasionally in that time. What a beautiful day :).
An article in the Suddeutsche Zeitung talked about the development of a "Marshall Plan" for Greece and other debt-ridden countries in the European Union. I probably missed a lot in the article, but I did catch that many believe it will take upwards of 10 to 15 years to "rebuild" those countries especially damaged by the financial crisis. Given that, a long-term plan modelled on the Marshall Plan (named after then Secretary of State George Marshall (1880-1959)) of post-WWII, in which American moneMy (roughly $13 billion over 4 years) was transferred into Europe as a means of rebuilding devastated states while simultaneously stemming the spread of communism. The Plan was hailed as a tremendous success, boosting every economy which received aid above its pre-war levels, and paving the way for closer cooperations among European countries by easing trade barriers.
Given the 10-15 year window which current neo-Marshall Plan planners foresee for their own program, such sweeping success in four years is impressive. It may also highlight major differences between reconstruction in the late 1940s and reconstruction today. The details of such programs are rather beyond me, but the problem is very real. As the article this morning repeatedly mentioned, officials caution that, "It will take more than three years," for the program to realize success. It could be that, while the original Marshall Plan had to rebuild buildings, infrastructure, and the physical necessities of modern society, the new crisis requires, among other things, the rebuilding of financial institutions and the requisite confidence in those institutions to render them effective. High national debt and a failed financial sector mean that many people are crowded out from getting financial resources to start businesses, buy a home, or fund an education. A good economist could tell you more about these things than I can, but it seems clear that the issues a new Marshall Plan will have to confront are different and perhaps more difficult to repair than the perhaps more straightforward destructiveness wrought by the Second World War.
10-15 years could prove a long time to remain committed to fixing another country's economic and political problems. The United States managed to do it for four years in an environment in which the country had just won a huge victory, and stopping communism was a national priority. How will Germans and others remain committed to helping Greece and Portugual in an environment which appears increasingly hostile to the idea of bailing out such states which many believe are responsible in large part for their distress? We shall see.
Have a wonderful day :).
An article in the Suddeutsche Zeitung talked about the development of a "Marshall Plan" for Greece and other debt-ridden countries in the European Union. I probably missed a lot in the article, but I did catch that many believe it will take upwards of 10 to 15 years to "rebuild" those countries especially damaged by the financial crisis. Given that, a long-term plan modelled on the Marshall Plan (named after then Secretary of State George Marshall (1880-1959)) of post-WWII, in which American moneMy (roughly $13 billion over 4 years) was transferred into Europe as a means of rebuilding devastated states while simultaneously stemming the spread of communism. The Plan was hailed as a tremendous success, boosting every economy which received aid above its pre-war levels, and paving the way for closer cooperations among European countries by easing trade barriers.
Given the 10-15 year window which current neo-Marshall Plan planners foresee for their own program, such sweeping success in four years is impressive. It may also highlight major differences between reconstruction in the late 1940s and reconstruction today. The details of such programs are rather beyond me, but the problem is very real. As the article this morning repeatedly mentioned, officials caution that, "It will take more than three years," for the program to realize success. It could be that, while the original Marshall Plan had to rebuild buildings, infrastructure, and the physical necessities of modern society, the new crisis requires, among other things, the rebuilding of financial institutions and the requisite confidence in those institutions to render them effective. High national debt and a failed financial sector mean that many people are crowded out from getting financial resources to start businesses, buy a home, or fund an education. A good economist could tell you more about these things than I can, but it seems clear that the issues a new Marshall Plan will have to confront are different and perhaps more difficult to repair than the perhaps more straightforward destructiveness wrought by the Second World War.
10-15 years could prove a long time to remain committed to fixing another country's economic and political problems. The United States managed to do it for four years in an environment in which the country had just won a huge victory, and stopping communism was a national priority. How will Germans and others remain committed to helping Greece and Portugual in an environment which appears increasingly hostile to the idea of bailing out such states which many believe are responsible in large part for their distress? We shall see.
Have a wonderful day :).
Friday, May 20, 2011
a brief assessment
A misty sort of drizzle has begun to fall as the morning waxes into afternoon. Vivaldi plays on the radio, a cello concerto in E-minor which is pretty neat, and which has a beautiful bassoon counterpart. Mr. Bassoon's role seems pretty simple, just playing the fundamental note of vaious chords, but he also provides a little depth to the cello dancing on the top, and serves as a useful counterpoise against the rest of the orchestra. A music expert, or even a proper music student could tell you more about what goes on in the piece, but you are stuck with me, so there :).
A day from today shall mark one week since graduation. It still does not feel as though college is over, but it is. I work on skills that I hope to improve for graduate school or a job, and try to enjoy myself with exercise, music, and other things. With college finished, a great deal of development and growth has reached a peak, the fruits of which I am now tending and occasionally reaping. It feels as though a long run has just ended, and my body is now doing the work of adapting the body to the new stimuli to which it was exposed. It is said that the body continues burning calories for hours after a hard effort, and so it seems that my person continues to undergo the effects of a strenuous year of growth, development, and learning. One should be cautious not to try and add too much additional work on top of what has been done as yet, for it does a person no good to have a full belly and then be told to engorge some more. Digestion, reflection, and organization appear to be the proper course of the present time. Perhaps.
Some things to think about today. Hopefully your's is or was wonderful :).
A day from today shall mark one week since graduation. It still does not feel as though college is over, but it is. I work on skills that I hope to improve for graduate school or a job, and try to enjoy myself with exercise, music, and other things. With college finished, a great deal of development and growth has reached a peak, the fruits of which I am now tending and occasionally reaping. It feels as though a long run has just ended, and my body is now doing the work of adapting the body to the new stimuli to which it was exposed. It is said that the body continues burning calories for hours after a hard effort, and so it seems that my person continues to undergo the effects of a strenuous year of growth, development, and learning. One should be cautious not to try and add too much additional work on top of what has been done as yet, for it does a person no good to have a full belly and then be told to engorge some more. Digestion, reflection, and organization appear to be the proper course of the present time. Perhaps.
Some things to think about today. Hopefully your's is or was wonderful :).
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Good intentions
Awoke to overcast skys again today, about the sixth day in a row if memory is correct. It is not so bad, though a few more splashes of sun would be nice to give the world some warmth and color. Somewhere on the Earth the sun is shining today; of that we can probably be sure. Perhaps it does so in Europe.
A television program called House played an episode yesterday about a doctor who goes to Africa to help people with TB, that is Tuberculosis. The doctor was very much an advocate for getting drug companies to donate additional medicines necessary to treat TB in Africa. In the episode, the man contracted TB himself, but also had one of those mini-tumors that you only hear about on television programs of this ilk. What struck me about the program, however, was the conflict between Dr. House and this other fellow on the issue of saving lives.
The conflict was bizarre to me, but it is probable I do not pick up on such conflicts so easily. Something bothered the Dr. House about this other doctor's practice (aside from the insistence that the sick doctor take part in the diagnosing process along with the hospital staff). Toward the end of the episode, the sick doctor said something to the effect of "I save thousands of lives every year, but I know millions still die in spite of my efforts. But I can still work given that. Perhaps you [Dr. House] can't."
Certainly it is a curious problem. How does one go on when one's efforts seem futile? This doctor certainly helped a number of people in the episode, but he seemed also aware of how little he alone could accomplish. The extent of some problems are quite large in comparison to the abilities of single individuals. Yet the efforts of those individuals does make a difference for some folks. And perhaps that is a message we might draw from this little point of dialogue. There are many issues in our world today, but that does not mean we cannot do something to help the matter. A single, kindly smile could well change a person's heart for the better in a given moment, and an ethic of smiles may spread to improve the lives of other people. It is all very simple, but it can seem too simple to make a difference, but it does, or has at least for me. A kind word from a relative stranger a week ago continues to have a positive influence on me, even though I have not even seen the person since. Good intentions, sufficently simplified, can do much.
A television program called House played an episode yesterday about a doctor who goes to Africa to help people with TB, that is Tuberculosis. The doctor was very much an advocate for getting drug companies to donate additional medicines necessary to treat TB in Africa. In the episode, the man contracted TB himself, but also had one of those mini-tumors that you only hear about on television programs of this ilk. What struck me about the program, however, was the conflict between Dr. House and this other fellow on the issue of saving lives.
The conflict was bizarre to me, but it is probable I do not pick up on such conflicts so easily. Something bothered the Dr. House about this other doctor's practice (aside from the insistence that the sick doctor take part in the diagnosing process along with the hospital staff). Toward the end of the episode, the sick doctor said something to the effect of "I save thousands of lives every year, but I know millions still die in spite of my efforts. But I can still work given that. Perhaps you [Dr. House] can't."
Certainly it is a curious problem. How does one go on when one's efforts seem futile? This doctor certainly helped a number of people in the episode, but he seemed also aware of how little he alone could accomplish. The extent of some problems are quite large in comparison to the abilities of single individuals. Yet the efforts of those individuals does make a difference for some folks. And perhaps that is a message we might draw from this little point of dialogue. There are many issues in our world today, but that does not mean we cannot do something to help the matter. A single, kindly smile could well change a person's heart for the better in a given moment, and an ethic of smiles may spread to improve the lives of other people. It is all very simple, but it can seem too simple to make a difference, but it does, or has at least for me. A kind word from a relative stranger a week ago continues to have a positive influence on me, even though I have not even seen the person since. Good intentions, sufficently simplified, can do much.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Practice
Well, the forecast is calling for wind and rain today, much like yesterday and the day before. It doesn't seem long ago that we were endlessly discussing the gorgeous weather that seemed to grace our slopes day after day. Such is the way of things perhaps. A little walk in the woods might be good, if the weather holds.
I thought about somethings last night. I realized that I have again grown impatient with myself, not allowing sufficient time to accumulate before experience, attitudes, and skills become internalized and more a part of the mind. This is not uncommon for me, and perhaps it is so with others as well. We try to learn things as quickly as possible, and when the necessary learning does not take place to a sufficient degree, we become frustrated and discouraged with our progress. Yet intellectually we know that each skill and idea takes a varying amount of time to master and internalize; it cannot be set by the person, but depends on the state and degree of preparation of the intellect, or so experience would have us believe. The proper place for focus ought to be directed toward the achievment of good practice rather than the achievment of outstanding results, because it is said that outstanding results are a consequence of good practice.
Sometimes our focus on this point is not so good. Sometimes we lose sight of the correct target for which to aim, and the result is bad practice and bad results, which of course usually compounds our frustrations further. A level-headed, reasoned, and periodic examination of our practice is therefore a necessary component of daily life, as it seeks to redirect those mis-targeted efforts toward their proper end. I do not believe I am the only person to suffer from this tendency of losing focus and direction. It would seem to happen to almost everyone at one time or another. Yet reflection and examination do not seem to be talked much about in public settings, or so my experience has so far observed. The public world seems focused on debate and consumption; achievment and self-promotion. It seems about doing more and more, filling the day with endless tasks and innumerable obligations. One must be busy all the time if one is to get anywhere in this world. One must learn to work unceasingly.
Which to my mind is bull. Others may have their opinions, but experience suggests to me that ceaseless work is a recipe for bad work. Professional runners do not run more than 3-hours a day at most, because they know they shall never recover if they do more. Can you imagine a full-time job that required, at most, 3-hours a day of work? It is strange to us, perhaps, because we are accustomed to thinking in terms of longer shifts where full-time employment is concerned. Yet a runner who tries running 4-hours a day, no matter who he or she is, will probably injure themselves and be unable to compete professionally again. Which means the runner will get to work 8-hours a day in a regular job instead of the 3 they worked as a runner.
It might be comical if it were not also so sad. We live in a world which often emphasizes that more is more, and focuses on the need for struggle to achieve anything worthwhile. Maybe it is foolish, but a better way seems possible; just look at the runner. A runner runs, and then he or she rests. Those who do it right, and are blessed with a well-constucted body, go on running for many years, and some even enjoy themselves immensely in the process. They have great fun, and they improve. Perhaps that is the right idea; to have fun, and to improve.
But truly, I don't know. Too much thinking about achievment and the end result means less thought devoted to the process which may or may not lead to that end. Perhaps it would serve us well to be mindful of what we do consider the many processes of which we find ourselves a part. Much to do, kind readers, yet much not to do as well.
I thought about somethings last night. I realized that I have again grown impatient with myself, not allowing sufficient time to accumulate before experience, attitudes, and skills become internalized and more a part of the mind. This is not uncommon for me, and perhaps it is so with others as well. We try to learn things as quickly as possible, and when the necessary learning does not take place to a sufficient degree, we become frustrated and discouraged with our progress. Yet intellectually we know that each skill and idea takes a varying amount of time to master and internalize; it cannot be set by the person, but depends on the state and degree of preparation of the intellect, or so experience would have us believe. The proper place for focus ought to be directed toward the achievment of good practice rather than the achievment of outstanding results, because it is said that outstanding results are a consequence of good practice.
Sometimes our focus on this point is not so good. Sometimes we lose sight of the correct target for which to aim, and the result is bad practice and bad results, which of course usually compounds our frustrations further. A level-headed, reasoned, and periodic examination of our practice is therefore a necessary component of daily life, as it seeks to redirect those mis-targeted efforts toward their proper end. I do not believe I am the only person to suffer from this tendency of losing focus and direction. It would seem to happen to almost everyone at one time or another. Yet reflection and examination do not seem to be talked much about in public settings, or so my experience has so far observed. The public world seems focused on debate and consumption; achievment and self-promotion. It seems about doing more and more, filling the day with endless tasks and innumerable obligations. One must be busy all the time if one is to get anywhere in this world. One must learn to work unceasingly.
Which to my mind is bull. Others may have their opinions, but experience suggests to me that ceaseless work is a recipe for bad work. Professional runners do not run more than 3-hours a day at most, because they know they shall never recover if they do more. Can you imagine a full-time job that required, at most, 3-hours a day of work? It is strange to us, perhaps, because we are accustomed to thinking in terms of longer shifts where full-time employment is concerned. Yet a runner who tries running 4-hours a day, no matter who he or she is, will probably injure themselves and be unable to compete professionally again. Which means the runner will get to work 8-hours a day in a regular job instead of the 3 they worked as a runner.
It might be comical if it were not also so sad. We live in a world which often emphasizes that more is more, and focuses on the need for struggle to achieve anything worthwhile. Maybe it is foolish, but a better way seems possible; just look at the runner. A runner runs, and then he or she rests. Those who do it right, and are blessed with a well-constucted body, go on running for many years, and some even enjoy themselves immensely in the process. They have great fun, and they improve. Perhaps that is the right idea; to have fun, and to improve.
But truly, I don't know. Too much thinking about achievment and the end result means less thought devoted to the process which may or may not lead to that end. Perhaps it would serve us well to be mindful of what we do consider the many processes of which we find ourselves a part. Much to do, kind readers, yet much not to do as well.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
The growing importance of historical education
The day dawns wet, humid, and cloudy today, much as it has the last few days here on the mountain. Little has been seen of the sun since graduation. All the same, it is there somewhere, hidden behind clouds and mist, shining as it does and warming the Earth with it's rays. I suppose it should not surprise us that Plato used the sun as a metaphor to describe the nature of the Good, revealing the Forms of nature, always present just outside the cave, and high above the shadowy world of delusion.
Is delusion then the everyday world in which we live? A Zen thinker would likely disagree. Everyday life is the stuff of which Zen concerns itself. It is thought to be "nothing special," very ordinary, and nothing separate from ordinary things. But let's not talk about Zen much more, since words always get it wrong where Zen is concerned.
A report from the May 12th Economist popped up today on the teaching of science. It discussed a teaching technique called "deliberate practice," in which science students (in this case, engineers in a physics class) do reading assignments prior to class, then spend class time working on problems and figuring out how to apply the theory. It is a reverse, apparently, from the usual way of doing things. My own experience in physics partially confirm this view, since most class time was spent in lecture, and most homework time was spent solving problems. We would occasionally do problems in class, but it was often not helpful. Oh well. Point is, deliberate practice yielded some fantastic results, according to one study boosting average grades on an experimental exam from 41% to 74%. Deliberate practice covered less material, but it taught what it did quite well.
The curious thing about all this, from perspective at least, is that my college education in history almost exclusively employed a form of "deliberate practice" from the very beginning. Rather than lecture, out professors engaged us in dicussion everyday of class, closely examining th work of other historians, as well as primary texts from the period under examination. The reading and general acquaitance with the material occurred outside of class, while the practice of asking historical questions and scrutinizing historical work occurred with the guidance of the professor, and support of fellow classmates.
To my mind, the method has some weaknesses, especially when the professor is less-experienced with such teaching, or if students do not read the requistite texts, but otherwise the method worked quite well for me. Each day we would examine a text, breaking down arguments and evidence, or considering the point of view of the author if the text be primary. It really got you wanting to get to the heart of the matter, to understand the author's point of view; to see the evidence as he or she saw it, or experience something of the moment about which the contemporary sought to convey.
I think, at some level, that's what studying history is all about, especially regarding primary texts. Can you reach a degree of empathy with a person long ago? Can you see the world from a degree of their perspective? Understand contemporary ideas as they might? This is a big challenge, but such is the challenge of history. With technology and society changing so rapidly in our own time, the difference between ourselves and our parents is rapidly growing, and we may well risk no longer understanding one another. That has been true for a while it seems, but the problem could grow rather acute in the coming decades if we remain ignorant of it.
One way to prevent a massive disconnect between generations might include a renewed emphasis on the cultivation of empathy among young and old folks alike. We have to be able to feel what others feel, or a degree of it at the least, if we are to understand one another's positions and views. Technology seems to be making that gap between children and parents wider more rapidly and more completely than ever before. Already we see large political debates ensuing over the privledges of the elderly and the rights of the young, especially as the national debt becomes a popular issue. These issues may well be getting worse, and technology could be playing a major role. Old folks are living longer, and young folks are becoming more connected to their own networks rather than simply that of the family. How shall such vastly different groups of people live together peacefully? For they shall have to if they would share the Earth, a consequence of our scientific world. Or will one group become so different as to decide to leave the Earth entirely? Wouldn't that be bizarre.
The point is, our times simulataneously appear to be rapidly lessening the chance people will feel emphathy naturally as the same time as the increasing age and experience gap between young and old is making empathy doubly important. We may well be losing on both fronts, and a crisis in the future may result. More than ever, then, it seems essential that we work to correct this growing imbalance. But how?
Why not educate people in the study of history in the manner in which I studied it in college? Or something similar, it's not terribly essential so long as you get people trying to understand a person's point of view from an often vastly-different experience. If you understand how, say, Erasmus viewed religious life, then perhaps you might understand better how your parents view techonology, or certain political ideologies.
The world is pretty strange, and it is getting stranger all the time, thanks to "Progress." Historical skills may well become quite important in the future if we are to reconcile the differences between young and old. Let's get it then.
Is delusion then the everyday world in which we live? A Zen thinker would likely disagree. Everyday life is the stuff of which Zen concerns itself. It is thought to be "nothing special," very ordinary, and nothing separate from ordinary things. But let's not talk about Zen much more, since words always get it wrong where Zen is concerned.
A report from the May 12th Economist popped up today on the teaching of science. It discussed a teaching technique called "deliberate practice," in which science students (in this case, engineers in a physics class) do reading assignments prior to class, then spend class time working on problems and figuring out how to apply the theory. It is a reverse, apparently, from the usual way of doing things. My own experience in physics partially confirm this view, since most class time was spent in lecture, and most homework time was spent solving problems. We would occasionally do problems in class, but it was often not helpful. Oh well. Point is, deliberate practice yielded some fantastic results, according to one study boosting average grades on an experimental exam from 41% to 74%. Deliberate practice covered less material, but it taught what it did quite well.
The curious thing about all this, from perspective at least, is that my college education in history almost exclusively employed a form of "deliberate practice" from the very beginning. Rather than lecture, out professors engaged us in dicussion everyday of class, closely examining th work of other historians, as well as primary texts from the period under examination. The reading and general acquaitance with the material occurred outside of class, while the practice of asking historical questions and scrutinizing historical work occurred with the guidance of the professor, and support of fellow classmates.
To my mind, the method has some weaknesses, especially when the professor is less-experienced with such teaching, or if students do not read the requistite texts, but otherwise the method worked quite well for me. Each day we would examine a text, breaking down arguments and evidence, or considering the point of view of the author if the text be primary. It really got you wanting to get to the heart of the matter, to understand the author's point of view; to see the evidence as he or she saw it, or experience something of the moment about which the contemporary sought to convey.
I think, at some level, that's what studying history is all about, especially regarding primary texts. Can you reach a degree of empathy with a person long ago? Can you see the world from a degree of their perspective? Understand contemporary ideas as they might? This is a big challenge, but such is the challenge of history. With technology and society changing so rapidly in our own time, the difference between ourselves and our parents is rapidly growing, and we may well risk no longer understanding one another. That has been true for a while it seems, but the problem could grow rather acute in the coming decades if we remain ignorant of it.
One way to prevent a massive disconnect between generations might include a renewed emphasis on the cultivation of empathy among young and old folks alike. We have to be able to feel what others feel, or a degree of it at the least, if we are to understand one another's positions and views. Technology seems to be making that gap between children and parents wider more rapidly and more completely than ever before. Already we see large political debates ensuing over the privledges of the elderly and the rights of the young, especially as the national debt becomes a popular issue. These issues may well be getting worse, and technology could be playing a major role. Old folks are living longer, and young folks are becoming more connected to their own networks rather than simply that of the family. How shall such vastly different groups of people live together peacefully? For they shall have to if they would share the Earth, a consequence of our scientific world. Or will one group become so different as to decide to leave the Earth entirely? Wouldn't that be bizarre.
The point is, our times simulataneously appear to be rapidly lessening the chance people will feel emphathy naturally as the same time as the increasing age and experience gap between young and old is making empathy doubly important. We may well be losing on both fronts, and a crisis in the future may result. More than ever, then, it seems essential that we work to correct this growing imbalance. But how?
Why not educate people in the study of history in the manner in which I studied it in college? Or something similar, it's not terribly essential so long as you get people trying to understand a person's point of view from an often vastly-different experience. If you understand how, say, Erasmus viewed religious life, then perhaps you might understand better how your parents view techonology, or certain political ideologies.
The world is pretty strange, and it is getting stranger all the time, thanks to "Progress." Historical skills may well become quite important in the future if we are to reconcile the differences between young and old. Let's get it then.
Monday, May 16, 2011
A Memorial to Sammy Wanjiru (1986-2011)
It is a wet and foggy morning today on the mountain, which reflects in many ways the feelings of a number of folks in the running community as they wake up to to news of the death of Sammy Wanjiru (1986-2011) at the age of 24.
For those who don't know, Wanjiru was a Kenyan marathoner who became Olympic Champion in the distance at the 2008 Beijing Olympics. He was in fact the first Kenyan ever to win the Olympic Marathon, running an Olympic record 2:06:32, besting the previous record by almost 3 minutes. He had also broken the Half-Marathon World Record twice in the lead-up to the Olympics, running a personal best 58:33 in March, 2007 at The Hague. Many remembered Wanjiru for his aggressive style and fearless tactics in big races, the Olympic marathon in 2008 and the Chicago marathon in 2010 being perhaps the most poignant examples of his capacity to endure tremendous pain on the way to first-place fnishes. Some, himself included, believed he would one day contest the fabled 2-hour marathon time, which has become something of a challenge on par with the 4-minute mile of the 20th century (The current World Record time is by Haile Gebrselassi of 2:03:59, set in Berlin in 2008. This past year both Geoffrey Mutai and Moses Musap of Kenyan bested that time in Boston with times of 2:03:02 and 2:03:06 respectively, but neither time counts as a world record because of Boston's net-downhill, as well as the presence of a strong tail-wind.)
How shall we remember Wanjiru? Time will tell, as is oft said. He bucked the trend that elite marathoners were all older and veterans of long careers on the track (winning the Olympic marathon at 22). His slowest marathon ever was his first, a 2:06:39 at the Fukuoka Marathon in Japan in December 2007. He also ran a 26:41 10,000m, breaking the junior world record by over 20 seconds.
Clearly Wanjiru was a runner incredibly endowed with many natural gifts for long-distance running. His 10k time at the age of 18 would beat the current American record at that distance by almost 20 seconds. It has been said that more and more fast marathons are being run as talented 10k runners take on the distance during the height of their careers rather than the end of them. As it stands, the marathon is a far more lucrative race distance than the 10,000m, and many a professional runner have picked up on this and adjusted accordingly. That is one theory why we see so many more 2:04-2:05 times in major marathons, where once such a time would have been unusual. Wanjiru seems to have been a major part of that movement, and his legacy will likely continue to influence the sport. Younger people will begin challenging the marathon, and those with good training and great natural gifts will likely continue to challenge the world record, perhaps even lowering it below the 2-hour mark.
For the present, however, it seems appropriate that we mark the loss of one of the world's best runners, celebrating his life's work and remembering the great spirit that he brought to each race. We will remember Sammy Wanjiru (1986-2011), and we will honor his memory. Farewell.
For those who don't know, Wanjiru was a Kenyan marathoner who became Olympic Champion in the distance at the 2008 Beijing Olympics. He was in fact the first Kenyan ever to win the Olympic Marathon, running an Olympic record 2:06:32, besting the previous record by almost 3 minutes. He had also broken the Half-Marathon World Record twice in the lead-up to the Olympics, running a personal best 58:33 in March, 2007 at The Hague. Many remembered Wanjiru for his aggressive style and fearless tactics in big races, the Olympic marathon in 2008 and the Chicago marathon in 2010 being perhaps the most poignant examples of his capacity to endure tremendous pain on the way to first-place fnishes. Some, himself included, believed he would one day contest the fabled 2-hour marathon time, which has become something of a challenge on par with the 4-minute mile of the 20th century (The current World Record time is by Haile Gebrselassi of 2:03:59, set in Berlin in 2008. This past year both Geoffrey Mutai and Moses Musap of Kenyan bested that time in Boston with times of 2:03:02 and 2:03:06 respectively, but neither time counts as a world record because of Boston's net-downhill, as well as the presence of a strong tail-wind.)
How shall we remember Wanjiru? Time will tell, as is oft said. He bucked the trend that elite marathoners were all older and veterans of long careers on the track (winning the Olympic marathon at 22). His slowest marathon ever was his first, a 2:06:39 at the Fukuoka Marathon in Japan in December 2007. He also ran a 26:41 10,000m, breaking the junior world record by over 20 seconds.
Clearly Wanjiru was a runner incredibly endowed with many natural gifts for long-distance running. His 10k time at the age of 18 would beat the current American record at that distance by almost 20 seconds. It has been said that more and more fast marathons are being run as talented 10k runners take on the distance during the height of their careers rather than the end of them. As it stands, the marathon is a far more lucrative race distance than the 10,000m, and many a professional runner have picked up on this and adjusted accordingly. That is one theory why we see so many more 2:04-2:05 times in major marathons, where once such a time would have been unusual. Wanjiru seems to have been a major part of that movement, and his legacy will likely continue to influence the sport. Younger people will begin challenging the marathon, and those with good training and great natural gifts will likely continue to challenge the world record, perhaps even lowering it below the 2-hour mark.
For the present, however, it seems appropriate that we mark the loss of one of the world's best runners, celebrating his life's work and remembering the great spirit that he brought to each race. We will remember Sammy Wanjiru (1986-2011), and we will honor his memory. Farewell.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Practice
Woke up to a foggy, drizzly morning today, complete with humidity and a runny nose. With school computer gone, I can't offer more specific details, because with computer also went Weatherbug. So hopefully it suffices to say that the weather is wet, wet, and perhaps a little more wet. But that is okay.
Today I wish to start a little challenge for the week--writing a short story everyday for seven days. The story needs to be original and have a beginning, middle, and an end. It needn't be very good. That's all I'm looking to do. The challenge begins when I wake up each day, and ends when I go to bed in the evening. I hope thereby to practice the art of story-telling, and perhaps improve the craft in me through repetition and considered reflection. My idea for today centers on a "barbarian" entering the "civilized" world, and a "civilized" man entering a "barbarian" world. Not sure how it will work (or if it will for that matter), but I am excited to give it a go.
I've also begun, now that college is finished, looking for books on German history. I can say there are far too many, but I think if I am to study the history of that country professionally someday, it would be wise to do a little reading in the field. I should also like to travel there in the next year, but such things require much money and time, and it is unclear how much of either I shall have in the coming months. Save your dough ol' boy :).
So that is that. The season of practice has begun. The peak seasons will invariably come, with the marathon in November, the GRE's sometime in the next few months, and the application to graduate school sometime before December. Of course, the real academic peak will need to occur should I ever find my way to graduate school and have to write a dissertation. That is a peak one should bear in mind, though it be several years off at the soonest. We shall be in need of all our skills when that time comes.
But that is why we practice. A music teacher once said to me that practice=confidence. That is true in some ways, I think. But the practice must be right to yield the full and desired effect, and that is not always clear. So with all this "practice" in the coming months, it would seem essential to identify the right sort of practice one should be doing. I'll have to reflect on that from time to time, and rest assured, kind readers, that I will share some of that reflection when it comes to pass.
Meanwhile, I shall also have to find some convincing projects to make my stay at home less a burden than a service. Hopefully I shall only require a year to move forward. But things may change, and new opportunities may come to the fore. We shall see, we shall see.
Today I wish to start a little challenge for the week--writing a short story everyday for seven days. The story needs to be original and have a beginning, middle, and an end. It needn't be very good. That's all I'm looking to do. The challenge begins when I wake up each day, and ends when I go to bed in the evening. I hope thereby to practice the art of story-telling, and perhaps improve the craft in me through repetition and considered reflection. My idea for today centers on a "barbarian" entering the "civilized" world, and a "civilized" man entering a "barbarian" world. Not sure how it will work (or if it will for that matter), but I am excited to give it a go.
I've also begun, now that college is finished, looking for books on German history. I can say there are far too many, but I think if I am to study the history of that country professionally someday, it would be wise to do a little reading in the field. I should also like to travel there in the next year, but such things require much money and time, and it is unclear how much of either I shall have in the coming months. Save your dough ol' boy :).
So that is that. The season of practice has begun. The peak seasons will invariably come, with the marathon in November, the GRE's sometime in the next few months, and the application to graduate school sometime before December. Of course, the real academic peak will need to occur should I ever find my way to graduate school and have to write a dissertation. That is a peak one should bear in mind, though it be several years off at the soonest. We shall be in need of all our skills when that time comes.
But that is why we practice. A music teacher once said to me that practice=confidence. That is true in some ways, I think. But the practice must be right to yield the full and desired effect, and that is not always clear. So with all this "practice" in the coming months, it would seem essential to identify the right sort of practice one should be doing. I'll have to reflect on that from time to time, and rest assured, kind readers, that I will share some of that reflection when it comes to pass.
Meanwhile, I shall also have to find some convincing projects to make my stay at home less a burden than a service. Hopefully I shall only require a year to move forward. But things may change, and new opportunities may come to the fore. We shall see, we shall see.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Graduation from College
Been computer-less the last few days, and it was strange in some ways and good in others. It meant I didn't do much writing, and I couldn't follow the news all that well, but a break from the computer is usually good for the body. So that's that.
Today was the day of graduation from college. It was a most ordinary day in many respects, and I figured graduation should be no different. To be frank, I dislike graduation ceremonies in which I'm not bassooning in a pit somewhere or under a tent nearby; a member of the ceremony without all the attention of the ceremony. Moving on, to my mind, should be the result of a transformational experience. People grow and change through the influence and nurturing of a school environment, and a point comes when their continued growth requires a new environment. When one finishes the highest tasks assigned by a school, it seems appropriate that a new level of understanding has been reached, and consequently a new environment is required to do the student good. A graduation ceremony isn't necessary to mark the course of that progression.
But people like such ceremonies, and so we dress up in funny outfits and take part in a rite, if you will, of academic achievement. For better or worse, my graduation from college was made official by the wearing of a funny hat, and walking upon a stage before several thousand people. Bizzare.
On a different note, something happened yesterday about which I wrote on Mother's Day. I had written a letter to a person with whom I was not especially familar, thanking them for some inspiration. I became concerned after sending the letter that perhaps it would be considered too strange a gesture. As it turns out, the letter was received, and even welcome if I'm not mistaken. The person in question sought me out yesterday, and in person personally thanked me for writing the letter. I wish I could remember all that was said, for it was quite moving (and difficult to hear, as graduation rehearsal was breaking up). On top of that, I was bit frazzled. It is not a common thing for someone to approach a relative stranger and thank them for something. Then again, I believe this person to be of a rare quality, and my impressions were met and far surpassed by what they did yesterday. So thank you for your kindness.
Here we are at home now. I've got some things in mind to do over the next few days, beginning to write the story being among them. If college has has me do one thing a great deal more than I would do otherwise, it was writing. Writing was and remains a difficult task at times, but it has become easier with practice. Perhaps it is time to take another crack at story writing.
Well, that's enough for now. It's been a strange few days, but I am happy. One stage of the journey is ending, and another is beginning. Where the path will lead I do not know, but is perhaps not so important right now. As the person whom I sent a letter to helped me see, sometimes it is nice just to enjoy the little things of life. I feel compassion in my heart for the people who have touched my life for four years, and I hope they and I will meet again under the sun. Farewell for now.
P.S. Many congratulations to Nathan Rein and Becky Evans for winning awards at graduation :).
Today was the day of graduation from college. It was a most ordinary day in many respects, and I figured graduation should be no different. To be frank, I dislike graduation ceremonies in which I'm not bassooning in a pit somewhere or under a tent nearby; a member of the ceremony without all the attention of the ceremony. Moving on, to my mind, should be the result of a transformational experience. People grow and change through the influence and nurturing of a school environment, and a point comes when their continued growth requires a new environment. When one finishes the highest tasks assigned by a school, it seems appropriate that a new level of understanding has been reached, and consequently a new environment is required to do the student good. A graduation ceremony isn't necessary to mark the course of that progression.
But people like such ceremonies, and so we dress up in funny outfits and take part in a rite, if you will, of academic achievement. For better or worse, my graduation from college was made official by the wearing of a funny hat, and walking upon a stage before several thousand people. Bizzare.
On a different note, something happened yesterday about which I wrote on Mother's Day. I had written a letter to a person with whom I was not especially familar, thanking them for some inspiration. I became concerned after sending the letter that perhaps it would be considered too strange a gesture. As it turns out, the letter was received, and even welcome if I'm not mistaken. The person in question sought me out yesterday, and in person personally thanked me for writing the letter. I wish I could remember all that was said, for it was quite moving (and difficult to hear, as graduation rehearsal was breaking up). On top of that, I was bit frazzled. It is not a common thing for someone to approach a relative stranger and thank them for something. Then again, I believe this person to be of a rare quality, and my impressions were met and far surpassed by what they did yesterday. So thank you for your kindness.
Here we are at home now. I've got some things in mind to do over the next few days, beginning to write the story being among them. If college has has me do one thing a great deal more than I would do otherwise, it was writing. Writing was and remains a difficult task at times, but it has become easier with practice. Perhaps it is time to take another crack at story writing.
Well, that's enough for now. It's been a strange few days, but I am happy. One stage of the journey is ending, and another is beginning. Where the path will lead I do not know, but is perhaps not so important right now. As the person whom I sent a letter to helped me see, sometimes it is nice just to enjoy the little things of life. I feel compassion in my heart for the people who have touched my life for four years, and I hope they and I will meet again under the sun. Farewell for now.
P.S. Many congratulations to Nathan Rein and Becky Evans for winning awards at graduation :).
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Another short thought
Beautiful weather here on the mountain today, with skys as blue as the ocean. Were it not for allergies, I might mistake the weather of late for some paradise of climate and season, like coastal Maine in summer. Southeastern Pennsylvania sure is beautiful these days though.
Tomorrow I turn in the laptop to the college. School has accustomed me to having a computer around most of the time, so it will take some getting use to not having internet access on-demand. Maybe I will spend more time hand-writing things and less time reading newspapers. I had an idea for a story the other day, so perhaps I will start writing that. Computer use, like other things, may require more balance than I give it. Something to think about.
Tomorrow I turn in the laptop to the college. School has accustomed me to having a computer around most of the time, so it will take some getting use to not having internet access on-demand. Maybe I will spend more time hand-writing things and less time reading newspapers. I had an idea for a story the other day, so perhaps I will start writing that. Computer use, like other things, may require more balance than I give it. Something to think about.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Brief thought
Today was a good day. Positive thinkers often seem to think this way, even when luck is not on their side, and circumstances are far from ideal. A day was good for no other reason than it was a day lived in all the richness that is the human experience.It doesn't take something great happening, or some new development to occur, to make the day good; a day's goodness, in short, is dependent on nothing save the barest of circumstances. Something to consider, perhaps.
Monday, May 9, 2011
The last assignment
Today saw the end of my undergraduate career. Ironically, my first under-graduate class was German and my last under-graduate class was German. Things have come full circle, and here we are at the end of many things.
Several people have asked me whether I feel excited to graduate at week's end. In truth, I am not. Yet I feel it is time to move on. Certain places and experiences seem to yield a degree of growth to a person. Like a training phase in a running program, these places and experiences cause a person to grow and adapt to new circumstances, demands, and stimuli. A time comes, however, when further growth requires a new place, and a new stimulus. I think that time is near.
It is sad in a way. I've grown comfortable to the setting of Ursinus life, with the daily rhythms, people, and demands of this world within a world. The library is absolutely wonderful, and the many hours spent there luxuriating in good books will be missed but well remembered. The old practice room with the terrible thermostat, where many a lonely night was spent bassooning, will sta with me for a while. The campus itself, if you've never seen it, is pleasant enough for the eye, and has a wholesome feel to it as you walk from place to place. It's likely I've walked over a thousand miles around this campus, yet it seems to welcome my feet everytime I come back. Certain trees are like old friends, a gentle wind extending out their branches as if in greeting as I pass. The surrounding country that has played host to my feet and bicycle will remain long within me, and the wide-open sky from atop the hills near Graterford are a sight I shall not soon forget.
In short, Ursinus has become my second home, and like my first home I miss it often when I am absent for a long time. So many things to be thankful for here, and it will take a lifetime, perhaps, to realize them all. The next few days will no doubt be interesting.
Several people have asked me whether I feel excited to graduate at week's end. In truth, I am not. Yet I feel it is time to move on. Certain places and experiences seem to yield a degree of growth to a person. Like a training phase in a running program, these places and experiences cause a person to grow and adapt to new circumstances, demands, and stimuli. A time comes, however, when further growth requires a new place, and a new stimulus. I think that time is near.
It is sad in a way. I've grown comfortable to the setting of Ursinus life, with the daily rhythms, people, and demands of this world within a world. The library is absolutely wonderful, and the many hours spent there luxuriating in good books will be missed but well remembered. The old practice room with the terrible thermostat, where many a lonely night was spent bassooning, will sta with me for a while. The campus itself, if you've never seen it, is pleasant enough for the eye, and has a wholesome feel to it as you walk from place to place. It's likely I've walked over a thousand miles around this campus, yet it seems to welcome my feet everytime I come back. Certain trees are like old friends, a gentle wind extending out their branches as if in greeting as I pass. The surrounding country that has played host to my feet and bicycle will remain long within me, and the wide-open sky from atop the hills near Graterford are a sight I shall not soon forget.
In short, Ursinus has become my second home, and like my first home I miss it often when I am absent for a long time. So many things to be thankful for here, and it will take a lifetime, perhaps, to realize them all. The next few days will no doubt be interesting.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
The intention of a letter
Another beautiful morning here on the mountain, and not a cloud is visible from the north-facing window of dorm room. Large birds hover about the trees nearby, and cast long shadows when they fly in front of the sun. A minor breath of wind stirs the trees and ground shrubs here and there, but otherwise the outside world looks quite still. Looks can deceive, no doubt, but this is only a most general description :).
I encountered a line this morning by Mark Twain. It read, "Good judgment comes from experience; experience comes from bad judgment." It's just the sort of thing you'd expect from a Mark Twain quote, with its dash of humor, irony, and almost circular rendering. Yet it's the sort of humor to which I am hopelessly weak, and I can't help but chuckle no matter how many times I read it. I wonder why that is...
Perhaps it is because the line rings true to me. After all, I have gained many an experience as a result of exercising bad judgment; it's as true today as it was years ago. For example, recently I wrote a letter to someone with which I was not particularly familiar. In all fairness, "particularly familiar" is perhaps too familiar a definition for this circumstance. Essentially it was a thank-you note for a minor but personally very important service this person rendered on me without their knowing. Strange yeah? There are some folks whose personalities have a contagious quality, and they wear off on you without either party the wiser as to how it happened. Without any intention, someone can very positively affect your life. That's what happened here I think.
But what is one to do when that person is not especially familiar? Is it wrong to thank them? I do not know, but if it is, then I have done a wrong, and perhaps that bad judgment will yield some new experience that may, as Mr. Clemens mentioned above, lead to better judgment in the future.
Then again, perhaps the decision, strange as it may seem in our modern world, is in fact right. I have lived my values, and thanked a person for a kindness they almost certainly were not aware of rendering. It was simple, true, and from the heart, and that I think is very hard to do sometimes in our world as it is. Our society often encourages us to manipulate others; to lie, cheat, and steal when circumstances are favorable so as to get ahead. Of course society also teaches that all these things are evil, but it is my experience that many (myself included) have a harder time denoucing such actions when circumstances are sufficiently altered so as to render the morality of the situation quite unclear. I don't know the answer.
It is good to live one's values. Perhaps it is good for others as well. I do not know what will happen as a result of the letter, but the truth is the result does not matter. Only the intention carries weight, just as seems true in the practice of reiki healing. When a thing is intended for the highest good of a person, much good may come of it.
Happy Mother's Day :)
I encountered a line this morning by Mark Twain. It read, "Good judgment comes from experience; experience comes from bad judgment." It's just the sort of thing you'd expect from a Mark Twain quote, with its dash of humor, irony, and almost circular rendering. Yet it's the sort of humor to which I am hopelessly weak, and I can't help but chuckle no matter how many times I read it. I wonder why that is...
Perhaps it is because the line rings true to me. After all, I have gained many an experience as a result of exercising bad judgment; it's as true today as it was years ago. For example, recently I wrote a letter to someone with which I was not particularly familiar. In all fairness, "particularly familiar" is perhaps too familiar a definition for this circumstance. Essentially it was a thank-you note for a minor but personally very important service this person rendered on me without their knowing. Strange yeah? There are some folks whose personalities have a contagious quality, and they wear off on you without either party the wiser as to how it happened. Without any intention, someone can very positively affect your life. That's what happened here I think.
But what is one to do when that person is not especially familiar? Is it wrong to thank them? I do not know, but if it is, then I have done a wrong, and perhaps that bad judgment will yield some new experience that may, as Mr. Clemens mentioned above, lead to better judgment in the future.
Then again, perhaps the decision, strange as it may seem in our modern world, is in fact right. I have lived my values, and thanked a person for a kindness they almost certainly were not aware of rendering. It was simple, true, and from the heart, and that I think is very hard to do sometimes in our world as it is. Our society often encourages us to manipulate others; to lie, cheat, and steal when circumstances are favorable so as to get ahead. Of course society also teaches that all these things are evil, but it is my experience that many (myself included) have a harder time denoucing such actions when circumstances are sufficiently altered so as to render the morality of the situation quite unclear. I don't know the answer.
It is good to live one's values. Perhaps it is good for others as well. I do not know what will happen as a result of the letter, but the truth is the result does not matter. Only the intention carries weight, just as seems true in the practice of reiki healing. When a thing is intended for the highest good of a person, much good may come of it.
Happy Mother's Day :)
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Less stuff
Woke up early to a beautiful day this morning, with a bright sky and brilliant colors outside. The plan was pretty simple for today; go to Pottstown for a class on Reiki healing. I met up with Danielle and her friend Nicole, and we made it to the workshop just around 9am. The class lasted until 4:30, and was really awesome. A great topic and some really great people at the class helped make 7 May 2011 a wonderful day in my life. And now I can do reiki healing, level 1, which is pretty cool. We left just as a swifly-moving down-pour moved through the area. It followed us most of the way back to Collegeville, even with the sun shining, and produced a brilliant double-rainbow in the East. Tonight we're having a study group meeting for the German final this Monday on Emil und die Detektive. Great little book if you've never read it.
Last week of college is approaching. The campus authorities have already set up those tents outside some of the dorms where students are encouraged to put items they aren't interested in keeping, but which others might like. I've discovered some gems in such collections the past two years. Maybe this year will prove similarly fruitful, though perhaps now that college is ending an ethic of minimalism would be more beneficial.
Having too much stuff can be a real burden. Stuff can creat clutter, take up space, and demand attention. It's made the house back home very cluttered in certain spaces, and can even make you feel kinda sad sometimes. Holidays can be terrible, because everyone is always giving each other more stuff. Even books are begining to bother me. Approximately 32 classes in college required a rediculous number of books, and now I have a whole bunch in tall stacks in room at home. Whatever is one to do with so much literature? I don't know how professors manage to keep so many books throughout their academic careers. I like reading as much as the next academic, but seriously there's such a thing as too many. We're caught in a world of clutter, and it will take much effort to uncatch ourselves.
Talking about such things reminds me of a television program from the 1970s called Kung Fu, starring David Carradine, among others. If you've never seen it, you can find every episode on Youtube. It's about a Chinese-American named Kwai-Chang Caine who joins the Shaolin monastary as a boy, and becomes a Doaist priest under the instruction of two senior monks; Master Kan and Master Po. After "graduation," he comes back to meet Master Po at a festival. While Caine and Master Po speak, they unintentionally get in the way of the Emperor's nephew's caravan. A small fight breaks out in which both Master Po and the Emperor's nephew are killed. Having killed the nephew, the monk Caine has to escape, making his way to the American West, presumably sometime around 1870. The neat thing about Caine is that, like his Bible name-sake, he wanders all about the Old West, carrying nothing but a pouch, a blanket, and some food. He meets friendly people and not so friendly people. Caine owns little, doesn't eat meat, yet is somehow always content and at peace with himself. He doesn't have a big house, a ton of stuff, regular company, or a steady job. He just goes out and lives, makes friends, and enjoys his life. Sounds kinda nice.
Something to think about as college comes to an end.
Happy Saturday :)
Last week of college is approaching. The campus authorities have already set up those tents outside some of the dorms where students are encouraged to put items they aren't interested in keeping, but which others might like. I've discovered some gems in such collections the past two years. Maybe this year will prove similarly fruitful, though perhaps now that college is ending an ethic of minimalism would be more beneficial.
Having too much stuff can be a real burden. Stuff can creat clutter, take up space, and demand attention. It's made the house back home very cluttered in certain spaces, and can even make you feel kinda sad sometimes. Holidays can be terrible, because everyone is always giving each other more stuff. Even books are begining to bother me. Approximately 32 classes in college required a rediculous number of books, and now I have a whole bunch in tall stacks in room at home. Whatever is one to do with so much literature? I don't know how professors manage to keep so many books throughout their academic careers. I like reading as much as the next academic, but seriously there's such a thing as too many. We're caught in a world of clutter, and it will take much effort to uncatch ourselves.
Talking about such things reminds me of a television program from the 1970s called Kung Fu, starring David Carradine, among others. If you've never seen it, you can find every episode on Youtube. It's about a Chinese-American named Kwai-Chang Caine who joins the Shaolin monastary as a boy, and becomes a Doaist priest under the instruction of two senior monks; Master Kan and Master Po. After "graduation," he comes back to meet Master Po at a festival. While Caine and Master Po speak, they unintentionally get in the way of the Emperor's nephew's caravan. A small fight breaks out in which both Master Po and the Emperor's nephew are killed. Having killed the nephew, the monk Caine has to escape, making his way to the American West, presumably sometime around 1870. The neat thing about Caine is that, like his Bible name-sake, he wanders all about the Old West, carrying nothing but a pouch, a blanket, and some food. He meets friendly people and not so friendly people. Caine owns little, doesn't eat meat, yet is somehow always content and at peace with himself. He doesn't have a big house, a ton of stuff, regular company, or a steady job. He just goes out and lives, makes friends, and enjoys his life. Sounds kinda nice.
Something to think about as college comes to an end.
Happy Saturday :)
Friday, May 6, 2011
A wholesome mean
Well, it is Friday, the first of two during the finals period. A few streaky clouds ride the wind high above on an otherwise brilliant and sunny day. The weatherbug says it is already 60F. The day promises to be quite warm and sunny :).
I awoke this morning to the 2nd mvt. Allegretto to Beethoven's 7th symphony. It came from the brain, as music of many stripes is bound to do nearly every waking moment of my life, which makes it difficult to ignore. I wonder where it comes from sometimes, or what or who picks the day's line-up. But the interaction between the music in the brain and the events of the world can make emotions that are difficult to manage and/or understand. Perhaps a similar problem is true for others; one feels as though one is reacting to the appearence of some rather large and assertive emotion in the mind rather than purposely employing emotions and feelings toward the achievement of some positive end. The mind is a very powerful tool, as the literature on athletic visualization can attest. Perhaps a mind is both within our control and without, more or less.
And perhaps that is okay. Sometimes it makes us sad, and sometimes we would do things on impulse which upon further reflection we might not do. Perhaps our minds can get us into trouble, be it with others or ourselves. Our thoughts have the power, as the Buddha is reported to have said concerning words, to both destroy and heal. When thoughts (or words) are true and kind, they can change our world.
It would seem essential to consider the nature of our mind, and the ways in which it operates both within and without our conscious control. If we would be good, and act gently and kindly toward our fellow men and women, it would seem necessary to direct the mind away from such tendencies as do harm to ourselves and others. Many humans (perhaps everyone) have desires that can do both themselves and others harm. Some people know this, yet the desire plays upon their mind more strongly than their knowledge that it is bad for someone, and they seek to feed this desire at an expense their rational mind was unwilling to pay. It is said Voltaire once wrote that if a man has a desire, the only way counter that desire is with an idea of equal or greater weight within his mind. For example, if I wish to eat a piece of cake, to prevent myself from eating the cake (aside from making myself full on other fare) would require an idea of equal or greater weight for why I should not eat the cake, for example, that I wish to run in a few hours, and I won't be able to if I have cake in my stomach. That is, perhaps, not an especially hard decision, but it describes the idea I am trying to convey.
It would seem necessary to posess some degree of rationality in our minds so as to do good for ourselves and others. Yet often, it is by impulse that we create profound art, see things new and fresh, or change the inertia of habit and custom in a way that is ultimately beneficial. Impulse can destroy us, yet it can liberate us as well. Irrational behavior can destroy destroy relationships, guide people to self-destructuon, and lead nations collectively toward disaster. Yet irrationality has the potential, like rationality, to do us a good service, and allow us to see things in a new way. Some artists thrive on such thinking, and some seek experiences that more often than not provide a fresh and new perspective on something common or seemingly banal.
Can we be totally rational as human beings? Perhaps with training and the constraint of freedom it would be possible. Yet perhaps to drift too far in one direction is neglect the other, and an overabundance of rationality could well render ourselves and others somehow less than human. Perhaps. If nature is our model, then perhaps a healthy balance of all such forces would do us the optimal good. For a forest is not all trees, nor all animals, nor all low plants, nor all high. It is not totally dark on the forest floor nor entirely light, but dark and light, a shadow here and a splash of sunlight there. There are predators and there are prey; producers and consumers; parasites and hosts. There is, in short, no thing that dominates the forest, yet the forest is balanced and healthy in its growth.
We must be careful of too much rationality as well as too much irrationality. Both can do us great harm should they exceed their due influence in the coucils of people's hearts and minds. Perhaps a healthy mind requires them both; a wholesome mean at the center of all things. Something to consider this Friday, my dear readers. May it be blessed :).
I awoke this morning to the 2nd mvt. Allegretto to Beethoven's 7th symphony. It came from the brain, as music of many stripes is bound to do nearly every waking moment of my life, which makes it difficult to ignore. I wonder where it comes from sometimes, or what or who picks the day's line-up. But the interaction between the music in the brain and the events of the world can make emotions that are difficult to manage and/or understand. Perhaps a similar problem is true for others; one feels as though one is reacting to the appearence of some rather large and assertive emotion in the mind rather than purposely employing emotions and feelings toward the achievement of some positive end. The mind is a very powerful tool, as the literature on athletic visualization can attest. Perhaps a mind is both within our control and without, more or less.
And perhaps that is okay. Sometimes it makes us sad, and sometimes we would do things on impulse which upon further reflection we might not do. Perhaps our minds can get us into trouble, be it with others or ourselves. Our thoughts have the power, as the Buddha is reported to have said concerning words, to both destroy and heal. When thoughts (or words) are true and kind, they can change our world.
It would seem essential to consider the nature of our mind, and the ways in which it operates both within and without our conscious control. If we would be good, and act gently and kindly toward our fellow men and women, it would seem necessary to direct the mind away from such tendencies as do harm to ourselves and others. Many humans (perhaps everyone) have desires that can do both themselves and others harm. Some people know this, yet the desire plays upon their mind more strongly than their knowledge that it is bad for someone, and they seek to feed this desire at an expense their rational mind was unwilling to pay. It is said Voltaire once wrote that if a man has a desire, the only way counter that desire is with an idea of equal or greater weight within his mind. For example, if I wish to eat a piece of cake, to prevent myself from eating the cake (aside from making myself full on other fare) would require an idea of equal or greater weight for why I should not eat the cake, for example, that I wish to run in a few hours, and I won't be able to if I have cake in my stomach. That is, perhaps, not an especially hard decision, but it describes the idea I am trying to convey.
It would seem necessary to posess some degree of rationality in our minds so as to do good for ourselves and others. Yet often, it is by impulse that we create profound art, see things new and fresh, or change the inertia of habit and custom in a way that is ultimately beneficial. Impulse can destroy us, yet it can liberate us as well. Irrational behavior can destroy destroy relationships, guide people to self-destructuon, and lead nations collectively toward disaster. Yet irrationality has the potential, like rationality, to do us a good service, and allow us to see things in a new way. Some artists thrive on such thinking, and some seek experiences that more often than not provide a fresh and new perspective on something common or seemingly banal.
Can we be totally rational as human beings? Perhaps with training and the constraint of freedom it would be possible. Yet perhaps to drift too far in one direction is neglect the other, and an overabundance of rationality could well render ourselves and others somehow less than human. Perhaps. If nature is our model, then perhaps a healthy balance of all such forces would do us the optimal good. For a forest is not all trees, nor all animals, nor all low plants, nor all high. It is not totally dark on the forest floor nor entirely light, but dark and light, a shadow here and a splash of sunlight there. There are predators and there are prey; producers and consumers; parasites and hosts. There is, in short, no thing that dominates the forest, yet the forest is balanced and healthy in its growth.
We must be careful of too much rationality as well as too much irrationality. Both can do us great harm should they exceed their due influence in the coucils of people's hearts and minds. Perhaps a healthy mind requires them both; a wholesome mean at the center of all things. Something to consider this Friday, my dear readers. May it be blessed :).
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Thesis finished
A bright and beautiful day greets us on the mountain today, well-washed and sparkling after yesterday's rain. Could prove a difficult day so far as allergies are concerned, but the view is nonetheless spectatcular. Very delightful to say the least.
Yesterday was the thesis presentation, and if went off in excellent fashion. I was rather concerned that the 20 minute time limit would leave me grasping for specificity and precision of language, but very fortunately the right words seemed to come at the right time, and the presentation was, to my mind at least, a smashing success. A little Indian food and a nice walk that night topped off a fine day on the mountain.
And so that is that. A year after starting the thesis is written, presented, and approved. It is still unclear precisely how I feel about finishing. I'm happy about the work, though not super impressed. I feel as though I learned so much about doing historical research, yet I feel I have so far yet to go. The experience certainly made me a better historian, but I still do not feel qualified to do a historian's work. Perhaps it is just a matter of personality, but that is how it is. Each day is an opportunity to practice the craft. Undeniably I am happy to have made the journey and pulled it off. Thank the heavens, but it is done.
So what is to be done now? School is far less demanding now than it was a month ago. Were allergies not so difficult I would probably run a deal more than I am, but that is okay. I feel free to do what I will, and live as I choose. It is a good feeling.
It is a good time, perhaps, to sip some tea and be still. Often we modern folk have a need to constantly move about and plan and feel as though we are being productive. Perhaps that is unnecessary. Perhaps our energies are better harnessed by cultivating stillness rather than movement. I suspect one might even do more under such an arrangment. A little patience can go a long way.
Happy Cinco de Mayo!
Yesterday was the thesis presentation, and if went off in excellent fashion. I was rather concerned that the 20 minute time limit would leave me grasping for specificity and precision of language, but very fortunately the right words seemed to come at the right time, and the presentation was, to my mind at least, a smashing success. A little Indian food and a nice walk that night topped off a fine day on the mountain.
And so that is that. A year after starting the thesis is written, presented, and approved. It is still unclear precisely how I feel about finishing. I'm happy about the work, though not super impressed. I feel as though I learned so much about doing historical research, yet I feel I have so far yet to go. The experience certainly made me a better historian, but I still do not feel qualified to do a historian's work. Perhaps it is just a matter of personality, but that is how it is. Each day is an opportunity to practice the craft. Undeniably I am happy to have made the journey and pulled it off. Thank the heavens, but it is done.
So what is to be done now? School is far less demanding now than it was a month ago. Were allergies not so difficult I would probably run a deal more than I am, but that is okay. I feel free to do what I will, and live as I choose. It is a good feeling.
It is a good time, perhaps, to sip some tea and be still. Often we modern folk have a need to constantly move about and plan and feel as though we are being productive. Perhaps that is unnecessary. Perhaps our energies are better harnessed by cultivating stillness rather than movement. I suspect one might even do more under such an arrangment. A little patience can go a long way.
Happy Cinco de Mayo!
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
A pilgrimage
The suns shines brightly today through a hazy film of clouds upon the sky. The day promises to be one of the warmest we've had this year, though it only approaching lunch time as yet. Today is reading day at the college, the day before final exams begin. The various places where people frequent to study and write papers have already begun to fill. So begins another final exam period at Ursinus.
Last night I did a pilgrimage. Not a serious one mind you, or one that went particularly far, but it is a fun exercise that seems to work well at the college. The pilgrimage is essentially a method of finishing a large amount of reading while simultaneously getting some exercise and keeping things interesting. You start in one builing on campus, read for a while, then get up and walk to some other place on campus. Do it right, and you couild end up doing a little reading in every academic building on campus, assuming they are open.
I first completed a first pilgrimage while reading Frankenstein for a history course last semester. I read a chapter in dorm, then went to the fit center, the biology building, the math building, the library, the music building, the history building, and finally back to dorm. It was really great. Moving from place to place kept the surroundings different, allowed me to walk periodically, and brought me into contact with a whole bunch of people. The regular interval provided time for reflection on what I was reading, and the unique surroundings meant I began associating individual chapters with specific locations on campus, aiding memory. In short, going on a pilgrimage proved both fun and educational, and helped me finish a copious amount of reading.
Last night's piligrimage proved similar to the first. I was reading a book on Chinese factory workers, and I had to finish the book so I could answer some questions on a worksheet. As the night progressed and I became quite tired, the thought came to mind that perhaps a pilgrimage was just what I needed to wake up a little and finish the reading. And so it proved the case.
It is often said by some that one should try to turn one's work into play. As they point out, a child can play all day and not feel tired, yet give him or a her an assignment they don't like or understand, and barely 10 minutes are required to render them exhausted and frustrated. I really like the idea of turning work into play, but I could never quite figure out how to do it. The pilgrimage concept has proved to me that such shifts in appraisal are possible, and can even prove beneficial for learning. Taking a difficult assignment and turning it into a game can make the task easier, more fun, and interesting.
I frequently heard as a youngster that school was a game that people played to get good grades by a combination of study, sucking up, and playing one's cards right in order to get ahead of the class. The idea troubled me, and I decided not to play even as others did so to great effect through high school. Not playing the game, I imagined school as a place of learning and new understanding.
Yet that didn't last long. Learning was nice when it came easy, but the more complicated the concepts and ideas became, the less able I seemed to rally myself to acquire the knowledge through study. A new method seemed appropriate, but it took a while to realize. Finally, the idea appeared; turn learning into a game. Not a game of grades and sucking up to teachers and making very little seem like very much. Rather, why not make work a time for play. After all, people who play games become intimately familar with the rules, concepts, and central ideas of those games. Could the same be true with skills and tasks odiously tied to the traditionally-anti-fun conception of formal education?
As it turns out, perhaps it can. I took an assignment I had--read 75 pages--and turned it into an opportunity to visit all the major buildings on campus. It required a little planning and a good bit of walking. You had to read a passage or a chapter, then think about it as you travelled to the next building. It took almost two hours to accomplish, but it was great fun, and I retained so much of what I had read. I had turned hard work into fun play, and it was awesome. Try it sometime :)
Happy Reading Day!
Last night I did a pilgrimage. Not a serious one mind you, or one that went particularly far, but it is a fun exercise that seems to work well at the college. The pilgrimage is essentially a method of finishing a large amount of reading while simultaneously getting some exercise and keeping things interesting. You start in one builing on campus, read for a while, then get up and walk to some other place on campus. Do it right, and you couild end up doing a little reading in every academic building on campus, assuming they are open.
I first completed a first pilgrimage while reading Frankenstein for a history course last semester. I read a chapter in dorm, then went to the fit center, the biology building, the math building, the library, the music building, the history building, and finally back to dorm. It was really great. Moving from place to place kept the surroundings different, allowed me to walk periodically, and brought me into contact with a whole bunch of people. The regular interval provided time for reflection on what I was reading, and the unique surroundings meant I began associating individual chapters with specific locations on campus, aiding memory. In short, going on a pilgrimage proved both fun and educational, and helped me finish a copious amount of reading.
Last night's piligrimage proved similar to the first. I was reading a book on Chinese factory workers, and I had to finish the book so I could answer some questions on a worksheet. As the night progressed and I became quite tired, the thought came to mind that perhaps a pilgrimage was just what I needed to wake up a little and finish the reading. And so it proved the case.
It is often said by some that one should try to turn one's work into play. As they point out, a child can play all day and not feel tired, yet give him or a her an assignment they don't like or understand, and barely 10 minutes are required to render them exhausted and frustrated. I really like the idea of turning work into play, but I could never quite figure out how to do it. The pilgrimage concept has proved to me that such shifts in appraisal are possible, and can even prove beneficial for learning. Taking a difficult assignment and turning it into a game can make the task easier, more fun, and interesting.
I frequently heard as a youngster that school was a game that people played to get good grades by a combination of study, sucking up, and playing one's cards right in order to get ahead of the class. The idea troubled me, and I decided not to play even as others did so to great effect through high school. Not playing the game, I imagined school as a place of learning and new understanding.
Yet that didn't last long. Learning was nice when it came easy, but the more complicated the concepts and ideas became, the less able I seemed to rally myself to acquire the knowledge through study. A new method seemed appropriate, but it took a while to realize. Finally, the idea appeared; turn learning into a game. Not a game of grades and sucking up to teachers and making very little seem like very much. Rather, why not make work a time for play. After all, people who play games become intimately familar with the rules, concepts, and central ideas of those games. Could the same be true with skills and tasks odiously tied to the traditionally-anti-fun conception of formal education?
As it turns out, perhaps it can. I took an assignment I had--read 75 pages--and turned it into an opportunity to visit all the major buildings on campus. It required a little planning and a good bit of walking. You had to read a passage or a chapter, then think about it as you travelled to the next building. It took almost two hours to accomplish, but it was great fun, and I retained so much of what I had read. I had turned hard work into fun play, and it was awesome. Try it sometime :)
Happy Reading Day!
Monday, May 2, 2011
Big mind, happy mind
The sun set some time ago on the mountain, and the sky is fading from a deep blue to an oily black. On cue, the laps about campus flicker to life, the library fills to capacity on every floor, and all across Ursinus people go about their evening business. Round the clock quiet hours begin today, though we shall see how long that lasts.
I sit in the school library, listening to the periodic typing of computer keys, the turning of notes or text-book pages, the occasional sigh of a poor pre-med student, and the occasional spastic creaking of the library's ever-squeaky chairs. You could spend all day in such a place, and you'd see and hear more or less the same thing, though it is generally far less crowded in the morning than in the evening.
Should you find yourself sad or unhappy about something, sometimes it is helpful to concentrate quite closely to the deatils of things around you. Too often one's mind can become very small and focused on a particular thing or collection of things that makes it restless and unhappy. A big mind, on the other hand, is quite open to whatever details the world as it is presents to itself. When you have big mind, you don't feel unhappy. I am not certain why this is, but it seems so. Perhaps it is because big mind isn't especially interested in a particular thing, such as oneself, or the destructive imaginings of a jealous mind. Big mind simply isn't interested in stroking an ego or getting worked up over little things.
Everyone has big mind I think, but it is often not well-developed. I also think that the society in which we live often discourages big mind, because big mind does not try to squeeze lemon juice from a rock, so to speak. It squeezes lemon juice from lemons, if that makes sense. If it wants a blueberry, it finds a blueberry bush in season. It does not complain if the blueberry bush is far away, or not yet in season. Big mind has a wide perspective, and is quite patient.
This sounds rather silly, but experience seems to support the idea. Quite often you and I and many other people run around thinking with little mind, focused on productivity and desires and fitting in and getting ahead. We get little mind, and our focus turns toward ourselves. We look at ourselves and thing well or ill of what we see; we look at others and do not see them as people like ourselves, but things in some way different. We get frustrated and tired and irritable when thinking with little mind. We do not live up to our potential when thinking with little mind, and as a result we often become even more bound up with little mind thinking. We get trapped, and sometimes we get out and sometimes we do not, at least not for a while.
When we lose ourselves in little mind, we can become unhappy, angry, frustrated, and limited to a great extent. Those unlucky enough to encounter great adversity under the influence of little mind may long feel its effect. A profound state of unhappiness may sometimes lead the sad thinker onto the path to big mind.
This is a strange post. Perhaps, kind readers, you will bear with me. It has been a strange day.
I sit in the school library, listening to the periodic typing of computer keys, the turning of notes or text-book pages, the occasional sigh of a poor pre-med student, and the occasional spastic creaking of the library's ever-squeaky chairs. You could spend all day in such a place, and you'd see and hear more or less the same thing, though it is generally far less crowded in the morning than in the evening.
Should you find yourself sad or unhappy about something, sometimes it is helpful to concentrate quite closely to the deatils of things around you. Too often one's mind can become very small and focused on a particular thing or collection of things that makes it restless and unhappy. A big mind, on the other hand, is quite open to whatever details the world as it is presents to itself. When you have big mind, you don't feel unhappy. I am not certain why this is, but it seems so. Perhaps it is because big mind isn't especially interested in a particular thing, such as oneself, or the destructive imaginings of a jealous mind. Big mind simply isn't interested in stroking an ego or getting worked up over little things.
Everyone has big mind I think, but it is often not well-developed. I also think that the society in which we live often discourages big mind, because big mind does not try to squeeze lemon juice from a rock, so to speak. It squeezes lemon juice from lemons, if that makes sense. If it wants a blueberry, it finds a blueberry bush in season. It does not complain if the blueberry bush is far away, or not yet in season. Big mind has a wide perspective, and is quite patient.
This sounds rather silly, but experience seems to support the idea. Quite often you and I and many other people run around thinking with little mind, focused on productivity and desires and fitting in and getting ahead. We get little mind, and our focus turns toward ourselves. We look at ourselves and thing well or ill of what we see; we look at others and do not see them as people like ourselves, but things in some way different. We get frustrated and tired and irritable when thinking with little mind. We do not live up to our potential when thinking with little mind, and as a result we often become even more bound up with little mind thinking. We get trapped, and sometimes we get out and sometimes we do not, at least not for a while.
When we lose ourselves in little mind, we can become unhappy, angry, frustrated, and limited to a great extent. Those unlucky enough to encounter great adversity under the influence of little mind may long feel its effect. A profound state of unhappiness may sometimes lead the sad thinker onto the path to big mind.
This is a strange post. Perhaps, kind readers, you will bear with me. It has been a strange day.
I am troubled, kind readers, I am troubled.
I went for a walk last night following the delivery of a book to a friend that was long overdue. The evening was cool and cloudy, with a light wind that rustled leaves and sang among the buildings on campus. It carried the sounds of a festive party from across main st, the drunken and perhaps joyous exclaimations of the track team celebrating the end of the season. I felt strange throughout the walk, unsure precisely of what was on my mind, and unsure why I was walking for so long in the dark. Still puzzled I returned to room, where roomate informed me that Osama bin Laden had been killed.
I've gone back and forth whether to write about this topic. Learning the news that bin Laden had been killed elicited many thoughts last night. Thoughts of that day almost a decade ago when I walked home from school to learn that the World Trade Center had been reduced to rubble echoed through the mind. I remembered those powerful nationalist feelings, and the fervor with which I dedicated myself to proclaiming the greatness of the United States. I remembered how the soldier became the premier role-model, and how supporting the nation's military became the unambigous duty of every citizen not a traitor to the values of America. I remember feeling such pride seeing the bombs fall on Kabul and Kandahar; Baghdad and Basra. There was a potent feeling in the air that justice was being done.
It is several years later now. I've seen the country I grew up loving do many great and terrible things. I have seen ruthless barbarity and humanitarian goodness from my people. I have seen kindness and I have seen savagery. I have seen military folks and civilians alike live their values in some cases, and shit on them in others. Through a decade of war, economic peril, natural disaster, and political realignment, many things have happened which compel me to question those views and feelings which blossomed in the mind in 2001. Studying history in college has similarly affected such thinking. So many feelings I have felt and notions I have entertained through this past decade share much with feelings and notions entertained by others in other place and at other times. You and I and everyone else in our time are so unique and so unique from those long generations who lived before us. Our world is so different and so similar. Our thoughts are so different and so similar. So many things have changed, yet so many things have not. It is all quite confusing for a student of history at times.
When I heard the news of bin Laden's death last night, I felt so many things; pity, indifference, pride, disgust, and other feelings I cannot yet identify. Following the news, chants of "U-S-A, U-S-A, U-S-A!" broke out in several places across the country, including the campus of my college. On the facebook I found many statuses dedicated to the death of bin Laden. Letsrun.com already had a message board dedicated to the death of bin Laden, where people aired their feelings on the subject. Many spoke of justice. Some have said that killing bin Laden removed a great evil from the world, comparing him to Hitler for instance.
Yet I do not feel such feelings. As much as I have tried, the celebrations of people in the street and on the web have not moved me to join in jubilation. I feel almost sad that a death has conjured such joy among people. People who celebrated the deaths of American soldiers acted in this way. People who celebrate great acts of violence act in this way.
Will celebrating bin Laden's death bring back those people who were lost these past ten years? Will bin Laden's death bring back those brave soldiers who served their country gallantely across the globe yet never returned home alive? Will bin Laden's death give back all those things our fellow citizens lost on September 11th? I do not believe this is so.
Our loved ones will not return because we killed the one we hated. Perhaps it felt unfair that our loved ones were dead while their killer yet lived. Yet killing the killer has not brought them back. Our people's loss is the same today as it was yesterday, and the day before that. Bin Laden's death gives no one tangible compensation for the sorrows suffered by his hands.
I am troubled, kind readers, by what has happened. Perhaps it is wrong to feel as such, but I am troubled all the same. I do not see the victory that others seem to see. Are we truly living our values by celebrating the death of another?
Our people lost so much ten years ago. They have lost still more in the years since. How can we compensate them with a corpse, or a headline in bold and all-caps? I am troubled, kind readers. I am troubled.
I've gone back and forth whether to write about this topic. Learning the news that bin Laden had been killed elicited many thoughts last night. Thoughts of that day almost a decade ago when I walked home from school to learn that the World Trade Center had been reduced to rubble echoed through the mind. I remembered those powerful nationalist feelings, and the fervor with which I dedicated myself to proclaiming the greatness of the United States. I remembered how the soldier became the premier role-model, and how supporting the nation's military became the unambigous duty of every citizen not a traitor to the values of America. I remember feeling such pride seeing the bombs fall on Kabul and Kandahar; Baghdad and Basra. There was a potent feeling in the air that justice was being done.
It is several years later now. I've seen the country I grew up loving do many great and terrible things. I have seen ruthless barbarity and humanitarian goodness from my people. I have seen kindness and I have seen savagery. I have seen military folks and civilians alike live their values in some cases, and shit on them in others. Through a decade of war, economic peril, natural disaster, and political realignment, many things have happened which compel me to question those views and feelings which blossomed in the mind in 2001. Studying history in college has similarly affected such thinking. So many feelings I have felt and notions I have entertained through this past decade share much with feelings and notions entertained by others in other place and at other times. You and I and everyone else in our time are so unique and so unique from those long generations who lived before us. Our world is so different and so similar. Our thoughts are so different and so similar. So many things have changed, yet so many things have not. It is all quite confusing for a student of history at times.
When I heard the news of bin Laden's death last night, I felt so many things; pity, indifference, pride, disgust, and other feelings I cannot yet identify. Following the news, chants of "U-S-A, U-S-A, U-S-A!" broke out in several places across the country, including the campus of my college. On the facebook I found many statuses dedicated to the death of bin Laden. Letsrun.com already had a message board dedicated to the death of bin Laden, where people aired their feelings on the subject. Many spoke of justice. Some have said that killing bin Laden removed a great evil from the world, comparing him to Hitler for instance.
Yet I do not feel such feelings. As much as I have tried, the celebrations of people in the street and on the web have not moved me to join in jubilation. I feel almost sad that a death has conjured such joy among people. People who celebrated the deaths of American soldiers acted in this way. People who celebrate great acts of violence act in this way.
Will celebrating bin Laden's death bring back those people who were lost these past ten years? Will bin Laden's death bring back those brave soldiers who served their country gallantely across the globe yet never returned home alive? Will bin Laden's death give back all those things our fellow citizens lost on September 11th? I do not believe this is so.
Our loved ones will not return because we killed the one we hated. Perhaps it felt unfair that our loved ones were dead while their killer yet lived. Yet killing the killer has not brought them back. Our people's loss is the same today as it was yesterday, and the day before that. Bin Laden's death gives no one tangible compensation for the sorrows suffered by his hands.
I am troubled, kind readers, by what has happened. Perhaps it is wrong to feel as such, but I am troubled all the same. I do not see the victory that others seem to see. Are we truly living our values by celebrating the death of another?
Our people lost so much ten years ago. They have lost still more in the years since. How can we compensate them with a corpse, or a headline in bold and all-caps? I am troubled, kind readers. I am troubled.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
The Wolf you feed
Another fine day here on the mountain. The weather has spoiled us the last few days, though I can't complain much. Thankfully it has been pleasant since so much is going on these days; Earth day, the farmers' market, and today Laura's Art Fair. All these events have come off splendidly, and in part we have the fine weather to thank for that.
I read a short story this morning. Several years ago, the track and coach and the swimming coach both had us read this story before the championship competition. In some respects it might have proved more appropriate at the start of training, but perhaps not. The story reads as follows:
I read a short story this morning. Several years ago, the track and coach and the swimming coach both had us read this story before the championship competition. In some respects it might have proved more appropriate at the start of training, but perhaps not. The story reads as follows:
One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, "My son, the battle is between 2 "wolves" inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith." The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?"
The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."
The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."
Cool story, yeah? It's very dualistic in the sense that the story posits two opposing ideas inside every person, yet it transcends that dualism by shrinking the entire universe down to the level of a single person.
I could see this story appealing (or not) to people in multiple ways. On one level, the story suggests that the attitudes we bring to everyday life depend on the decision we make of which wolf to feed. If we wish to live a generous, compassionate, and peaceful life, we can choose to feed the wolf that is good.
Yet sometimes we find that people wish to be good but do not know how in given situations. Sometimes we get swept up by emotion, or carried along by the attitudes of others. Sometimes the pressure to conform to a social situation make it difficult to view the world as we would like. And of course, sometimes it is quite difficult to feed the good wolf, even though we know in our hearts the choice to right.
Which brings me to a saying I heard earlier this past week. A person at school said, "Jeff, don't get caught up thinking about how to do good in the world. It is far too complicated to capture as a single whole. Rather, try imagining your life as a series of moments, each one permeated by an opportunity to do something right and good in that moment. Just do the next right thing, and everything will fall into place."
I found the idea so laid out pretty neat. It keeps things simple, and makes the task of doing good straight-forward and managable. It's not always clear what the "next right thing" is, but it at least frames the question in a way that you can ask it at any given time and come up with a relavant answer. Perhaps. Perhaps.
In both cases, choice plays a central role in determining how you think and act. You are empowered, if you choose, to make a choice and act according to your own conscience. It can be difficult for people to do this, because people often have very complicated minds, which can cause them to act in ways they later think are foolish, mean-spirited, or down-right wrong. To practice life is, in part, to practice acting and thinking according to your true beliefs and values throughout the day, and through the great variety of circumstances that life encounters.
A professional musician can play with style, poise, and good intonation whenever he or she picks up their instrument, or makes to sing with their voice. A non-professional musician, typically, can play in tune most of the time, posess a wonderful and unique style on good days, and maintain poise in the practice room even if on stage things can become dicey. It's okay to be nervous. It's okay to be less than perfect. We can do our best in each moment to play with poise, skill, and beautiful tone. Each note, each phrase, each musical idea; it is another opportunity to make beautiful music. Good luck!
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