T-M-I from T-I-M

Book Review: The Idiot's Guide to the Middle East Conflict

This weekend I read most of this Guide to the Middle East Conflict.  I bumped into the book at the Book Mobile (which rocks...and is the temp replacement for my library which is undergoing construction).

It was a pretty revealing look into how divided the area is.  I probably got this to a certain extent, but the reading brought it home for me.  One extraordinarily difficult thing about the Middle East is that the source of so much of the conflict has religion and nationalism at its heart.

I'm certain of this:

1. Force of ANY kind will not solve it.
2. Diplomatic negotiation of ANY kind will not solve it.
3. Reparations or economic restitution of ANY kind will solve it.

The only thing that can solve it is love and compassion.  An earnest admission on all sides that they have all been hurt and listening to each other without judgment.

In a semi-interesting side note, the Middle East is the birthplace of 3 of the world's major religions and also happens to be the place where the first system of law was implemented.  Hmmm, anyone know things that are more divisive than religion and the law???

Iraq = $811B, Darfur = $188M

It was nearly a palindrome!!!  If only the US had given $811B to Iraq and $118M to Darfur, but alas, it was not meant to be. 

I read today that the cost of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have risen to a surreal $811B.  At the same time, the aide to Sudan's Darfur was cut in half by the United Nations, affecting nearly 3 Million people.

Candidly, I see this data all the time, it just was particularly stunning to see one (the war) right before the other (Darfur).  I fully realize that there are people starving to death right here in the US.  But, unlike Darfur, generally, people are being terrorized out of their homes by warlords.

And, unlike the US, Darfur's population is almost entirely black.  Now, it's blacks that are committing the atrocities on these blacks.  That doesn't change what I think about sometimes:  Does anyone who isn't black really care about black people?

I read a book by Jonathan Kozol called Savage Inequalities about the institutionalized burden put on black children around our nation.  In it he asked a 13 or 14 year old black girl from NY how she thought white folks thought about them.  She said that if they all disappeared today, they (or we I guess since I'm white) would be relieved...relieved of possible guilt.  She might just be right and that doesn't feel right.

Conditioning in Action: Rubber Necking

I was driving through San Francisco yesterday and at the corner of Market and Castro there were a ton of:  police cars, fire engines, people and regular cars slowed down looking.  I found out this morning that somebody died in a two car accident.

I certainly understand where the conditioning arises now for legions of new generations, traffic jams.  It only takes a few folks to create that traffic jam by slowing down and looking.  And then, every other kid in every other car learns that this is what folks do.

My family was in a major car accident (in terms of the car, we spun around and flipped over with all 5 boys and my Mom and Dad in the car).  Physically, the only real damage was my left eye (which still has a bump today from it) and my Dad, who I think tore knee ligaments (at a time when fixing a knee was as risky and lengthy as a typical LensCrafter visit).

I vaguely remember (I was in 5th grade when it happened) a few regular people stopping to help us and that it felt good, probably because it calmed us down to a certain extent.  But I can tell you that outside of that, it was pretty terrifying for me. 

The world vanished around me that day.  I was crying and I'm sure most of my other family members were too.  What I struggle with is, why does someone want to see that?

I've heard lots of theories and read about movies on it.  And, as I mentioned, I can understand how it's conditioned into us.  Were people slowing down hoping they could see me?  A 5th grader who looked like Rocky Balboa (in one eye that is)?

I know that I used to do it.  Honestly, I can't tell you why I used to other than I used to.  And inside of that admission, I understand that I am admitting that I am a rubber necker (remember the thing about trying to become "not" something that is illusory to begin with?).

And I am not judging myself or anyone else who does rubber neck.  It's neither bad nor good, wrong or right, it just is. 

I guess the simplest way to explain how it felt is to juxtapose it with the beginning of a 10k.  The energy is electric and mostly supportive and it flows, the auras I see are orange and pink mostly (creative, expansive for orange and spiritual, loving for pink).

When I drove by the scene last night, I literally felt the energy of suffering and misery.  The auras were brown and red (fear, sadness for brown, anger, anxiety for red).

In the Fire from Within by Carlos Castaneda, he gives a lengthy account of how he apparently found his "spot".  After 18 hours struggling in a house, rolling on the floor, sitting, standing, etc. colors suddenly became brilliant, images sharp, his soul peaceful.  Just to make sure it was his spot, he moved slightly away from it.  Sure enough, colors dimmed, images hazed, his soul restless (I'm totally paraphrasing here...).

The value of finding love for myself and the resulting peacefulness is that it is super easy to feel it when I'm not there.  The toxicity of that accident scene on my soul was more than notable.  I guess the tricky part is even their energy to me is neutral unless I choose to give it power over me.

Oh, by the way, I didn't rubber neck, and it wasn't that hard..... 

Book review: The Pleasure of My Company

This book is about a neurotic, innocent, sweet and lonely man who eventually finds love.  The book is very endearing and touching.  It had me crying towards the end (then again, I cry like Dick Vermeil (for the homies) and like Debra Winger (best I could do for the ladies)....meaning I cry a lot because I'm expressive).

Two quotes were home runs for me.  #1 when he was describing a rather angular character (who he actually had previously described like Sleepy Hollow except he had a head and no horse...ha!):

His body was so incongruous with itself that it looked like he had been made by three separate gods, each with a different blueprint for humanity.

The other one when the main character who is brilliant and neurotic writes quite sweetly of a young toddler who is in his life:

Teddy''s chaos left me in structural shambles, and I think I could tolerate it because the source of the chaos was unified.  He was a person beyond logic; he was singularity.

Clearly Steve Martin has a gift for interesting writing (his play Picasso at Lapin Agile is terrific!) and he shares it again in a lovely way in this endearing story.

O/U on SF Foie Gras Ban = 6 Months

I read that Chicago has banned restaraunts from serving foie gras because of the cruelty to animals that typically precedes the ability to serve the dish.  I've eaten foie gras a few times and thought it was okay so it won't be much for me not to eat it (because I won't now that I know what they do to make it).

I have a similar position on veal, which I've actually never really even tried because of the cruelty involved in that dish.  That being said, I know that all the meat I eat involves some level of cruelty so I know I'm hypocritical.

My #1 curiosity in this story is how long it will take for SF to ban foie gras, because I'm virtually certain that it will, and I won't be upset when it does.

Your Beauty's Inside

I guess I'm in the artistic flow to a certain extent this morning.  Related to an earlier post about Jonathan Larson and Rent!  I thought about a poem I wrote for my beautiful daughter who paints.  One day she painted something and was worried that it "didn't look right". 

I told her that art isn't wrong or right.  I told her that art is about sharing the beauty of your heart and I wrote this poem for her:

Your Beauty's Inside

The simplest expression of beauty will touch

The purest connection of art will inspire

 

Let go of the critic who dwells in your mind

Trust me the beauty lies deep inside

 

Who cares if your bee is purple and red?

Why worry if your flower is 10 times real size?

 

Paint what you feel

Color what you love

Sketch who you care for

Your beauty’s inside

 

Where are the guidelines to be a “real” writer?

When did the experts ascend to their throne?

 

Write your first novel straight from your heart

Share your first poem with someone you trust

 

Work with a friend and write your first play

Artists believe me your beauty’s inside

 

I am touched by any artistic expression

I connect with the artist who inspires my soul

 

Let go of all critics and you’ll be rewarded

Trust me God’s beauty is there deep inside

Rent!: Why did Mr. Larson have to die first??

I read that the original cast members from the musical Rent! gathered together to perform the musical recently.  Rent! is the most magnificent live performance play or musical I have ever seen.  In fact I saw it twice, once in LA and once in SF. 

The music is electrifying.  The lyrics are inspiring.  The choreography is uplifting.  The story is enlightening.

The one thing I can't quite get (and candidly, it confuses me in more than just this situation) is why someone like Jonathan Larson would spend 10 years of his life trying to unsucessfully sell this work of art to a producer.  There are very few, if any, artists who captures the lion share of their lifetime economic value while they are alive. 

Yes, that seems fairly straightforward I suppose.  But while people like Mr. Larson toiled away in abject and depressing poverty, hundreds of folks today live in outright opulence on the wings of his soul.

Picasso, Schubert, Dickinson and countless others like Mr. Larson are forced to live "La Vie Boheme" until they die (which I understand may be the genesis of their muse to begin with) and after that, the business folks often live La Vida Loca.

Plagiarism = Steroids

I read that a recent book written by a Harvard undergrad Kaavya Viswanathan ’08, “How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life,” apparently includes several pieces of material from two books by Megan F. McCafferty—the 2001 novel “Sloppy Firsts” and the 2003 novel “Second Helpings.” 

It's kind of cool because the publication that broke the story is the Harvard Crimson, Harvard's newspaper.  She had become a bit of a celebrity at 17 because her publisher, Little Brown & Company signed her going into Harvard.  What I can't quite get is how the publisher's of books like this (and for example James Frey, who got reamed by Oprah (whose next book by the way is on fire on the NYT bestseller's list)) miss this stuff.

I've decided that plagiarism in literature is just like steroids in baseball.  Writers seem do it fairly regularly hoping they won't get caught.  They even "mask" it as in this case, noted as follows (from an email of a professor):

“Judging by the excerpts you have assembled, and three department stores and 169 specialty shops later, it looks as though some strong version of anxiety of influence could clearly be detected in ‘How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life,’ all the more so because of those miniscule variations that change ‘Human Evolution’ to ‘Psych’ in the hope of making the result less easily googleable.”

(I bolded and underlined that last part....)  It's like they have found masking agents. 

My bet is that the publishers know it, the authors know it, the booksellers know it, the agents know it (sound familiar?).  Unlike Giambi and Palmeiro or whoever eventually has to admit they've taken steroids it seems that getting one's name known in the literary world may be a plus (see James Frey).  Although I suppose Jose Canseco broke the mold there. 

It will be super interesting to see how Ms. Viswanathan's next book does.  Look for this book and likely her next one to shoot up the NYTimes best seller list.

Brown Scare? No more McCarthyism!!!

I read this morning that they convicted a man in Lodi (no, not the Norse God, that's Loki, ha!) for attending an al-Qaeda training camp in Pakistan.  The 23 year old was also cited for lying to investigators about his involvement.  Gee, at 23 with a bunch of FBI folks around me like hawks would I have been scared? 

A few US officials chimed in after the verdict:

"Today's verdict makes clear that we can prevent acts of terrorism by winning convictions against those who would plot to commit violence against our citizenry in the name of an extremist cause," U.S. Attorney McGregor W. Scott said in a statement. Attorney General Alberto R. Gonzales congratulated agents and prosecutors on the case, saying in a statement, "The country is a safer place because of their efforts."

I'm down with being careful about our country and trying our best to protect me and my daughter.  These statements and this trial feels a little too McCarthy-ish to me.  Where will the line be drawn?  What organizational affiliation is acceptable?

I'm not judging anyone involved, I just hope that we don't find ourselves in another derivative of our past in the very near future.

Self-deprecation vs. Self-bashing

My good friend Ben Casnocha wrote a very interesting blog about the subtle line between self-deprecation and self-bashing.  To me, it's another super example of why I'm honored to call him one of my friends.

In particular check out how he handles each of the comments put up on the blog.  I think this is where blogging really opens the souls and hearts of people around the world.  Putting a topic out there.  Taking a position and then being open to honest discussion. 

This one in particular is a great one to consider in the context of how we measure ourselves in society and, often it appears, unnecessarily strike ourselves down even before we begin.

Do yourselves a favor, if you haven't already, bookmark or subscribe to his blog (or whatever you need to do to check it out regularly).  He's a gift.  Bravo Ben, you rock!