An Amigo, Ami, Vriend, Freund by any other name...

     Today is a day for friends.  I can’t really say what sparked it, but I cannot deny a tribute to all of the friends that we manage to pick up over this journey from here to, um, uh, wherever it is we actually go to depending on your beliefs.  All the types of friends:  from the drunken buddy to the profound too-bad-I-don’t-swing-that-way-or-I would-take-you-as-my-bride friend.  So a toast to you dear friends in all of the incarnations in which you appear: you are the only way in which I can and have become better than myself.
     I say better than myself because I’m a big fan of the idea that it is through our friends that we improve and grow.  In the ideal case.  Our friends are reflections of our opinions, decisions and habits, so a good friend, whatever the depth of length of the relationship, manages to help you work through those existential crises that we all go through:  whether through a kind word, getting trounced because it’s the only thing to do or just saying nothing, softly letting us know that whatever dis-ease our mind may be suffering will soon pass.
     That isn’t to say that all friends are “friends” in the sense I speak of before.  There are friends of situation:  the drinking buddy, the friend you got high with everyday, the f*ck buddy (is pretty popular); the list goes on and on.  They are the people that you go to simply to let off some steam about the world.  Whether you get along as people isn’t as important as the fact that you engage in the same potentially addictive behavior together; while I can’t say that this type of buddy is healthy, they serve and essential role in our growth.  Thanks destructive friends.
     Of course this isn’t to say that all friends fall into these categories exclusively.  As it is with most theories in action, the types mentioned are simply a broad classification of the roles that the significant others we have play in our existence.  For example I have a couple of close compadres who happen to be self-destructive and wonderfully insightful (at different times, but eh).  I also have acquaintances that I only see perhaps 3 times a year:  we have a great time together, and then poof, out of sight out of mind.  You might know who you are, and if not, well whatever.  The point is that as people we can only do so much by ourselves, and the roles our friends ideally fill are those which complete the gaps in our joy of living, whatever that means to us.
     One thing involved in friendship that I’ve always found crucial is the idea of trust.  A friend without trust is a mere acquaintance, for how can we share ourselves with someone who we don’t believe to be honest (I mean, it entails that they obviously need a little more work before they can even have friends as such:  I suggest perhaps for a bit they need a case worker).
     A friend must also fundamentally have our best interests in mind.  “Our” is vague, and intentionally so:  at worst, our friends need to have our mutual interests at heart.  A selfish friend after all doesn’t see us as friends:  more as a wall to talk at and use for personal purpose.  I would call those types contacts more than friends, and thankfully so:  what would friends be if we had to worry about being used.  It’s hard to have a good time, that’s for sure.
     There are many other types of friends as well:  those who are profound even when it’s unnecessary, those who are truly kind without a thought in their heads, our perfect matches, sports friends, topical friends:  the list goes on forever.  As long as there are things to do that require (or suggest) more than 1, our friends are crucial to us.  As long as desire a companion, it is our friends who are there.  When we feel like feeding the science club, our friends are there.
     And we are there for them.  There is something so nice about knowing that you’ve got someone’s back (It’s pretty great knowing they’ve got yours too, but that’s implied, I think):  that whatever dumb, average or brilliant thing that they do, you will be there.  A friend in trouble is an opportunity to do real good in the world.  It’s hard to say that your constant street canvassing on mercury pollution and toxic fish is doing good, yet lightening a dark mood of someone you care about: priceless.
     So to all the friends I have had, do have and will have I say: congrats.  Friendship at times can be a thankless unpaid position, but it is always rewarding.  Even friendships that have worn out their relevance, for what it’s worth, I had a lot of fun when we did, and I now wish you nothing but the best.  So call up someone you haven’t kept in the best touch with (I sure they’ll be happy to hear from you) and take another out for a drink:  either way your friends deserve unmitigated acts of kindness, so let ‘em know – we would all like a reminder that we’re a positive influence somewhere after all, and for everyone that has seen the ups and downs in, don’t they deserve at least a specially directed how do you do?
     

Hi

     You know, there are times when all the words in the world refuse to amount to anything more than exercise for the lungs.  It is then (currently, then is now), when I just want to go out and run rickshaw through the teeny tiny city that I call home.  Between the approaching warm weather (all doubters, you’re on notice) and the vast amounts of people watching that has been afforded to me, I want to get out and meet some new folks ASAP.
     What spawns this acute span of gregariocity (word?) one might ask?  Simply stated, I’m finally starting to hammer down what I miss most about college, and I cannot wait to go back.  It isn’t the party scene:  you all know I’ve worked that down to somewhat of a science in my time there.  It isn’t the lack of sleep, although at various times I have and do think that it’s for the weak.  No, I’ve figured out what it is, and….arrggh!
     What I miss is being crammed in close quarters with 1900 other people of similar age and ability.  I miss there always being someone new to meet, and somewhere new to meet them.  With each passing day, I rested content in the knowledge that I could very easily meet someone who I had not really talked to before.  Let the days work out as they did and…damn, it’s no wonder I hate sleep, there’s was a lot to do.  
     To those who don’t go to Carleton, a brief refresher.  The common Carl is the end of an odd devil’s bargain:  trading social skills for those big sexy brains we all hear so much about.  Carls are really socially inept on the whole, lost in their thoughts most of the time, and are more prone to glaze over when asked simple questions about sports or recreation.  Except if it’s esoteric:  Alaskan skydiving or ultramarathon unicycling, you could probably get quite a bit out of them then.  But before I’m lynched by current and former students alike, let me say that that is exactly what I miss.
     With each new situation, the learned people watcher notices that rules and standards start to come forth which are unique to their little slice of geography and culture.  For example, I had not gotten drunk and into an argument about quantum physics at the same party before:  and while that may not seem like a great time to many let me just say that, well, you had to be there, and yes, dimensionless particles are the fundamental units of our physics damn it!  Anyway, some of us come equipped with a natural craving to play amidst many different types of social situations, with the realization that pushing our boundaries should be the norm, not the exception.  I also believe that meeting someone new is like opening a new chapter of your life, and while it can be tough to write multiple chapters at once, I believe we all agree that the hassle is well worth the reward.
     So it is from between bouts of nostalgia and an incessant desire to plant both feet firmly in the city and shake it a little that I heed a call to action.  While I hear those who say that meeting new people is hard to do, I cannot agree especially when the payoff can be so high.  We meet literally hundreds of thousands of people in our lifetimes, whether the interaction is for but an instant or far longer, and of them any one could be the best thing that ever happened to you.  Think of the close friends that we all share.  I can say with pride that of my best friends walking the earth now, I can attribute one to reefer and Aerosmith, another to a Guy Ritchie movie and pouring rain, and I could go on, but you get the idea.  Other friends I have met over:  underage drinking (I don’t think I’m alone here), the Boston Red Sox, and my favorite, sunrise; the list goes on and on.
     I guess the point is that I really relish and miss the absurdity of getting to know someone I didn’t just 30 minutes before.  We really cannot see when we get started who the next important person to us might be, and in the meanwhile we can accumulate some fabulous stories (did I tell you that one about splitting that handle and waking up in field?  Or the one about…nah, you don’t want to know).  I’ve learned pretty much as much as I would like to know about myself, so if we end up in the same place at the same time, I look forward to some hijinks and shenanigans: we could be best friends, we may never meet again, but the stories…something for the kids (one day, much later on) when they ask “Dad what did you do for fun in your day?” To which I must reply “Well son, funny you should ask…”

A helping hand

     With the coming of spring, it also seems that the mind renews as well.  Ideas left nebulous by the freezing cold, seeded deep in a mind more bent to carry on then to prosper, now take root.  Although no one knows when those notions may blossom, with the coming of spring the question is moot:  for all the answers we need become baldly apparent somewhere in between our nearest star, improbably giving us life, and the ground beneath us, impossibly giving rise to us and all we can perceive.  At this moment, words this world fails, so I must turn to another for help:

UNDER ONE SMALL STAR

My apologies to chance for calling it necessity.
My apologies to necessity if I’m mistaken, after all.
Please, don’t be angry, happiness, that I take you as my due.
May the dead be patient with the way my memories fade.
My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second.
My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first.
Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home.
Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger.
I apologize for my record of minutes to those who cry from the depths.
I apologize to those who wait in railway stations for being asleep today at five a.m.
Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time.
Pardon me, deserts, that I don’t rush to you bearing a spoonful of water.
And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage,
Your gaze always fixed on the same point in space,
Forgive me even if it turns out you were stuffed.
My apologies to the felled tree for the table’s four legs.
My apologies to the great questions for small answers
Truth, please don’t pay me much attention.
Dignity, please be magnanimous.
Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from your train.
Soul, don’t take offense that I’ve only got you now and then.
My apologies to everything that I can’t be everywhere at once.
My apologies to everyone that I can’t be each woman and each man.
I know I won’t be justified as long as I live,
Since I myself stand in my own way.
Don’t bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words,
Then labor heavily so that they may seem light.
                         -----  Wistawa Symborska


Enough said.

There's a gordian knot in my throat

     The hardest thing that I have done so far is to begin to learn to let go.  Let go of the notion that time can stop for more than a moment, ease away the idea that perhaps the relationships that we have will stay in the form we desire forever.  It’s a funny feeling, knowing when some of our friendships are slipping, beginning to lay fallow from neglect or distraction, from pain and argument, or even worse, simply from the withering facet of the unceasing march of time; unable to stop the awful snowball of dissolution as it gains speed and size down the slope of our personal lives.
     At times like this it seems that life can be boiled down to little more than various roads diverging in the wood.  With each new decision we have to face, we are confronted also with which path to begin walking down.  The misfortune is that all those we hold as dear friends also have to make those same decisions as we do (at least they come to the same crossroads).  The sadness in all of this is that being their own people, those who we care about, as they make their decisions, very easily become obscured by the forest which hides us from one another.
     I wish I could stop this process.  I wish I could call out (without metaphor, but I’ll take what I can get) a halt to my dear friend; a call that rings out in the forest of our lives for pause, perhaps even for return.  I want to somehow convey to this obscure figure through the trees my appreciation of all that they are, of all that we could be.  I want to shout to all those who can hear the adoration with which I hold the times we have spent;  to frighten the birds from their boughs with the boom of my exclamation of just how dear they are to both myself and the world.  I want to raise the heads of other travelers with the sound of this person, to let them know as I do that he/she is capable of anything in this world, given the opportunity.  But most of all, I want them to know that this is coming from me, and I mean what I say.
I’ve never been a believer in impossibility.  Anything that has seemed unattainable to others to me has seemed only a more worthy goal requiring more effort.  What I never stopped to consider was the idea that perhaps other minds were more dearly attached to the notion of impossibility that I was in infinite possibility, and now that I look back, there has been a long line of people who have told me that I couldn’t succeed.  All of them I proved wrong, all but a couple select individuals in my life.  And what do I remember?  Of course I can bring to mind all of the success that I have had which flew in the face of disbelievers, but what readily comes to mind are the times when I have been run again the spectacularly painful wall of failure.
And the trouble is, it is in perception alone where failure arises.  I firmly believe that we can only fail when we come away from a situation knowing that there was something else to be done; that we gave up before we truly exhausted all of our options.  At times though, we are not the only ones who make the decisions:  especially in relationships, be they platonic or romantic, we also have to consider the notion of another mind at work in decision making.  No matter how well we think out our actions, thoughts and decisions, we are still subject to the agreement of another to make our thoughts reality.
And it is in these moments that I have learned so painfully to let go.  Regardless of my calls out, irrespective of my cries of understanding, sometimes our friends and loved ones simply don’t/cannot/refuse to hear what we are trying to say, and it is too easy to blame ourselves.  What could I have done differently?  If only I had said instead…
I could have said anything, that wouldn’t have changed a thing.  The ways to disparage ourselves is endless, but we can only do so much.  In fact, we can only do what we know and are capable of.  That is the essence, I believe, of letting go.  The knowledge that we have done all we can, and must now leave it up to fate and the perceptual abilities of our long lost (and possibly soon found) relationships.  Yes, it will be horribly painful to watch what was once intimate and pure devolve in acquaintance or worse.  Of course it is agonizing to know that we might be blamed for things we haven’t done, or even worse, for the things that we have.  Although we can always carry the good times we have had with another with us, yet there is and may always be a nagging voice in the background wondering what went wrong.  That voice has a point, yet if we are the ones wondering I now believe that answer cannot be found by us at all:  if we are to know we will find out when the our lost friend is good and ready.
I have a particular person in mind here; through I refuse to name names (I think the party involved knows however).  Suffice to say that we can only feel real loss when we lose something that we value more than ourselves, and this person was the one of the greatest occasions to ever happen to me, person, place or thing and I appreciate that with every fiber of my being. Words cannot describe how dear you will always be to me.   I have to let you go now, for I don’t think you can see me for what I am, only for what you think me to be.  Good luck though, and I’ll always be here if you ever need, but for both your good and mine, it might be time to fly solo.  Fare thee well.

Living in a real world

     The idea of artificial life has always intrigued me.  From the early cognitive discussions of Turing and his test for an acceptable artificial mind through the seminal work of Dennet (read Brainchildren, crazy stuff) to Searle’s Chinese Room Problem – I’ve been there, all because of a fascination with the power of human mind, and our attempts to essentially “create” a working mind from circuits and electricity which comes from the wall, and not the workings of our neurons and cells.
     However, I’ve as of late become aware of a more insidious form of artificial life, which after further review I will call the ‘ersatz existence’.  This is not, as the name might imply, a new type of synthetic and potentially inferior intelligence. Well perhaps in a way, but that hopefully will become clear later on, and I’ll leave you, dear reader, to draw your own conclusions. Instead, I use it to refer to a life that is lived one or more degrees away from our senses: removed from the constant, unstoppable flow of experience and all that it holds
     How might one get away from his/her own senses?  There are myriad ways to it:  all essentially based in the idea of living in fantasy.  There are different degrees of participation in this:  from someone who holds dear an axiom which represents the world as it should be rather than how it is (of the type “if I just behave this way he/she will see all that I am” or “as soon as [thing x] happens I’ll be complete/feel better, whatever) to the more obvious version of those who spend a disproportional amount of time playing the Sims, fixing their Facebook profile or making sure their Myspace is ‘just right’:  both of these individuals believe in a fantasy that does not represent and in a very real way escapes the reality in which they live, breathe, love (hopefully), and grow.  That’s not to say that thinking in how the world should be (in fact, that is the only way in which progress is made), or by spending time in the cyber space working on your little segment of the web:  hell, I am as guilty as most on both of those -- the more important thing is the escapist mentality that drives the choice of activities.
     The escapist mentality can itself take many forms:  from the druggies who get high to forget their troubles to the pill poppers who just need to smooth themselves out, to the Myspace junkies who have decided that a cyber reality is an alternative as good or better to the world outside, to all the various subtle variations in between.  The common thread is the idea of diversion until things improve (After this bender I’ll get my life together; I can make him/her love me if I try a little harder; etc.), that there is some thing (activity, person, job, timeframe) that will fill the gaps in the ersatz existence, something external that will fill the holes inside.
     Apologies for the furious dead horse beatings, but as of late I have found myself in need of a decision.  I have quite a few friends (some quite close, some recent acquaintances) who suffer from some pretty serious ersatz behaviors:  one friend spends more time on Myspace than in real conversation, a few others have some serious drug problems, two Facebook junkies who operate all communiqué through the website at the expense of a phone call, still others fill my head at every conversation with their latest quick fix for the holes they have dug and continue to dig for themselves every day, and a couple others seem to have just given up (and by the day grow more pessimistic), who let me know that the world is an empty place devoid of care and hope and joy.  
So my conundrum is as follows.  I’ve been there:  the idea that there is someone or something other than myself who is responsible for my happiness/despair; be it money, sex, drugs, rock and roll, a fresh start elsewhere, whatever.  I’ve learned that it is only ourselves who are responsible for our feelings and perceptions, and yet to learn that fact I had to make mistakes, fail, myself.  I could listen to no one until I personally understood through experience.  The trouble is, I know what agony self-doubt can be, and the ersatz option is one of the three worst routes to choose.  And having been there, I want to be available as a good influence and bearer of good times and affirmation to the interests, desires and needs of others:  it’s just so difficult to stand by while watching those I care about drag themselves through the mud.  
     I guess the only thing left is to just let it go and hope for the best.  The teachings of people far wiser than I could ever be often speak of the idea that leading by virtue and example are the only real ways to affect positive change in others, especially those who deeply suffer.  They also say many other interesting things, but I’ll leave those for another day.  Suffice to say, the most important thing I have learned in the journey so far has been the notion that all we have is this moment, so be truly happy in it, for all that it is and is not; keep that up for long enough and eventually real life will become far more appealing than any ersatz activity.  That said, I’m always here to help in any way that I can; be that a conversation, a walk, a night out, or even just the knowledge that I am available.  Now however, I’ve got some fresh air to breathe, so stay well, we’ll be in touch soon.