Despair Begs for a Mountain, and the Ease to Sit Upon It

I have an inbred tendency to be a recluse, one I often must fight against. While both my heritage and background gives me a natural tendency to seek solitude, it also forces me to interact and experience everything I can to keep myself honest in my opinions of the world I inhabit. One cannot opine in or rejoice in or condemn a world or segment of that world and its culture unless one is a part of that world. I also happen to believe that the first responsibility of citizenship is awareness.

Nevertheless, I find myself daily more horrified by this world of ours, particularly our nation. The most recent events and actions of this country under our current leadership makes me long for a mountain top where I can sit in solitude, withdrawn and apart from what we have become and what we seem to lack to fortitude to change. This is not the country of my birth. With few exceptions, these are not the caliber of people our shared history praises or our proud traditions celebrate. My disgruntlement first morphed into embarrassment, but it has now changed to despair and shame at the same time I feel the internal surging and crashing of the hot lava that is intense anger.

The dichotomy in our nation today is shocking, and it is not because the country is polarized as everyone seems to gleefully report. It is that our leadership grows every more fascist while our populace grows ever more complacent in their ignorance, selling our national soul for empty assurances, lies and promises of safety. They do not see that the tactic being used to gain their compliance is that which our leaders say they are protecting them against. Terror. As such, our government's war on terror is actually a subtle war against the welfare of the people in this country using fear as a cudgel to subdue them into acceptance of that which is unacceptable - the loss of individual privacy, the loss of human rights, the loss of their pride in themselves as thinking, productive, aware people within a democracy. Today, the consent of the governed is little more than the sniveling acquisesence of slaves to a dictatorship. It's disgusting and it's heartbreaking, and if these sheep ever look up, they will find that the judas goat has led them into the chute and the mallet is descending toward their heads. The monied elite will have mutton for supper.

That the Constitution of these United States is being subverted and ignored is not only dangerous and tragic, but has been happening for five years with very few of our staunch citizenry raising an outcry. Did we learn nothing from Watergate? Did we learn nothing from Vietnam? Did we learn nothing about lies told at the pinnacle of power and how the first lies beget only more lies to cover the first...the second...the third? Our government is neck deep in corruption, in bought votes, in the torture of others, in the ignoring of the due process of law, in the grabbing for additional power so it can be placed in the hands of a single man or group which is supposed to be one of three arms of a balanced approach to governing rather than a single dictatorial body. Can people not understand that if the guarantees of our constitution are denied in a so-called time of war - a war instigated through lies by one element within our government - those guarantees are easily denied at any time? Do they not question the idea that this country will be at perpetual war even when those in power have told them so? Do they not realize that there is only a very thin line that separates the torture of prisoners denied due process and the torture of anyone? And that there is an even thinner line between that and genocide?

Wake up, America!! Your ignorance does not become you. Your illusions of safety will not save you. If you allow only one man or one group in this government to usurp all power and authority, there will eventually be no bread and the only circus will be the one in which the trained elephants stomp and demolish all the spectators. Wrapping yourself in a tattered flag will not save the country you knew, nor will wearing a small plastic flag made in China gain you entry into the entourage of the new fascist dictator.

You have much to fear, America....but it is from inside our borders.

Of Mania, Miracles, Mice, Men and the Mundane

I have been hesitant to post since beginning this smokeless Odyssey. I've always been one of those people who do well with word association games or stream of consciousness musings, but as one of my friends has mentioned, the absence of smoke is allowing so much oxygen to get to my brain that I'll either overload my intellect or my third eye will draw a diagnonal line between the other two and I'll end up paranoid about tic tac toe.

I'm also not much on coincidence. That doesn't mean that I see conspiracies behind every tree, but it does mean I take note of everything that's going on so as to come to a reasonable reaction as to 'why' things happen with an open possibility as to what will occur next and what it all means. So, my story begins a few days ago when I was in my seventh day without a cigarette.

Using food as a substitute meant a nerve exposed trip to the local supermarket where I encountered an older gentleman from Trinidad who has become a good friend. He is the unofficial greeter at the market, primarily because he has a wonderful smile, eyes that twinkle and the manner of having never encountered a stranger. Over the last few years, we have had conversations on every possible topic: politics, crime, Elvis, education, his children, and as he is a religious man, that day we talked of miracles. I happened to mention a line from Emerson's Song of Myself, "and the miracle of a mouse is enough for any infidel." Initially perplexed, he did arrive at the ultimate conclusion I hinted at.

The following day, which was no less manic in terms of my desire for soothing nicotine, I noticed that all my cats kept congregating in the same area of the house - a rather unusual occurrence since, like people, they have their own societal lines of like and dislike, insult, appreciation and amusement. When learning that I share my home with a group of female felines, most people automatically assume I'm either a cliche, crazy or am a 'cat' person. In my own defense, I admit to being all those things at times, but I am foremost an animal person - any animal - preferring their company to that of humans simply because there is no subterfuge or pretension in animals. What you see and experience is exactly what you get. They are themselves at all times, and no one, least of all the animals themselves, can have any illusions about that.

Being excellent hunters with amazing eyes and reflexes, my cats had discovered a mouse. No doubt one of the girls had first made the catch in the basement (there's a small opening around one of the vent pipes that let's them come in during the winter, I think), but since they are not above displaying their prowess for others to see, she had carried it up to the main floor where there is much more room to run, play, hide, tempt and pounce. Six cats all attempting to herd that mouse in different directions at the same time was a wee bit like watching the Keystone cops in furry coats. Without going into a play by play, it was over eight hours of agitation for me, entertainment for them, and horror for the mouse. The cats fell over each other, bumped into each other and the furniture, bickered, complained, and frequently lost the terrified rodent behind the furniture, bookcases, doors, and each other. Everytime I tried to intervene or capture the poor creature myself, he got away, the cats got in my way, or I was far too slow and not nearly agile enough. It was bedlam.

It was natural to put their unnatural setting within a human context, and the cats started reminding me of the way too many single focus humans run roughshod over everything in their path to get their way. That mouse was every 'small' person whose ever been ignored, stepped on, pushed aside, or harmed by government edicts that come too late or not at all, or corporate malfeasant that puts human health at constant risk. Most people see a mouse and think vermin, which is also what a great many people with money or prospects see when they think of the poor or disabled or disenfranchised or ill educated. That mouse was being terrorized by masters of the technique who had no hope of thinking differently. And isn't that exactly what terror is? A weapon in the hands of those who hate, or covet, or dismiss others as unimportant, and who have no hope of thinking differently? The mouse would be harmed and the cats would be disappointed to lose their toy, merely walking away and thinking nothing of it. Sounds like every day human life to me.

Humanity gives little thought to the small things like that mouse, but a mouse is very much a 'miracle' whether you think in religious terms or not. Mice are the plankton of the mammalian world, like rabbits, reproducing at a phenomenal rate because they, also like rabbits, are preyed upon as food by just about every other animal. They are a very big and important cog in the entire system of a balanced Nature, and thus a planet in balance, and none of us could survive long without them...even as we ignore or curse their existence.

They are also a very essential cog in the human world of beauty, health and greed, but again, humans give them little thought and less value. Mice are highly favored as research 'assistants' and experiment results. Many of them live their lives in human constructed cages, tanks or mazes before being dissected and fed to other mice to see if they can learn new tricks that way. Mice have been used to test cosmetics before they are ever released for use in a public that is more concerned with the softness, glow, unwrinkled appearance of themselves than they are about what goes on in their own minds or what function they serve for mankind other than as adornments or fluff or mindless entertainment.

How many mice should we thank each time we take a pill that lowers our blood pressure or cholesterol, or regulates the beat of our hearts, or allows a surgeon to adjust something wrong in our bodies or brains? How many mice died to allow our Veep to have all those heart surgeries and pace makers? How many mice were sacrificed to the cosmetic surgery of Joan Rivers or Brittany Spears or any of the other over paid denizens of the vacuous world of entertainment? Did mice die so our illustrious sports heroes could take steroids? Shouldn't the drug and cosmetic industries have monuments to mice in their boardroom?

If you really think about it, mice have built a lot more in this world than just Disneyland.

Straighten Up and Wheeze Right!

This is my second day without a cigarette, so if I sound snippy or bitchy in this post, rest assured - that's exactly what I am. I am also, however, more than a little surprised about two separate smoking related things. First, even with the assistance of a heavy duty nicotine patch, I fully expected to be pounding my head against a wall, putting a fist through the door, or strangling my cats. It's not happening. Secondly, I can already feel a difference in my breathing.

Since we live in a land of choices, and since I am also one of those (as you've noticed, dear reader) who talks about rational choices, decision trees, and lateral thinking, it was natural to analyze my situation and my alternative actions regarding my life as my particular choices and the element of time defines it. None of us get younger, so the standard complaints of aging are a factor; so is the excessive costs to indulge this habit (thanks to the anti-smoking lobby and increasing cigarette taxes); so is the overall health of this organism I call 'me' and the combined factors of allergies, asthma, shortness of breath, and whether general weakness is due to hardened or clogged arteries unable to carry oxygen, or overworked sludge covered lungs unable to properly respire.

Nothing I can do about getting older. Nothing I can do about halting increasing costs or taxes. Substituting chocolate for cigarettes wasn't viable...neither middle aged acne or a more rapid spread of thighs or buttock held any appeal, and putting a match to a chocolate straw and trying to inhale only knocked you out with the burnt smell. Ergo, the elimination of tobacco is all that's left, even if that act never rids me of a wheezing inhale or exhale.

None of this 'confession' is in any way earth shattering, excepting that I have/had been an invenerate smoker for many, many years. I liked to smoke. It was calming. It had become my only true vice, alas, and even knowing the downside, it was my choice. It had also become an act of total defiance against all those disgustingly self-righteous people with their phony altruism and their litany of "smoking is bad for you" and their uppitty lectures about "quitting is for your own good." Let's face it....these folks who are determined to hound others couldn't care less about anyone's good but their own. They are the crusaders of this age, but crusaders without the balls to actually crusade for something truly beneficial, like eliminating poverty or improving education. That would be hard work. Trying to ban smoking was their own selfish lark...a lazy man's power play with a cruel streak, a new found political aim with an emotional base, like being anti-gay and anti-choice and anti-pleasure.

Anyway, I also more readily recognize the habitual element of the 'act' of smoking - the reaching for a cigarette as soon as I sit at this keyboard; the reaching for a cigarette when my mind draws a blank about the exact word I want; the reaching for a smoke when I crave coffee; the reaching for a ciggy when being harassed by one of the cats who is determined to get me away from the computer by clogging the keys with her hair, the printer with her paw, the view of the monitor with her tail, or destroying my concentration with a leap to the keyboard that sends me into the black nowhere of cyberspace.

One major surprise in this venture is the realization of how much time was wasted in the act of lighting up, in the smoking, in the cleaning up the perpetual mess of smoking, in the searching for where I left that pack or the lighter. It's almost as if I have discovered an additional two or three hours per day! Who would have anticipated that?

Coffee will never again taste the same; neither will single malt scotch. Perhaps the taste of food will improve, although I suspect the only way that will happen is if someone else fixes that food for me. I won't be accidentally burning any more holes in my fleece bathrobe on Sunday mornings while I balance coffee, the New York Times and a smoldering filter tip. There will be no more trips to the all night market for a pack of smokes when I can't sleep, and my house will eventually smell much better.

The thing that truly worries me though, is how I'll control myself and my urges when I'm sitting alone or with a group of people and some total asshole is prosing on and on with limited knowledge but outrageous opinions that are bigoted and offensive and as dumb as a philodendron, and I'm not holding a burning cigarette that will keep me from reaching out for his throat with both hands. It's a definite worry and conundrum.

Idealism. Cynicism. The Pace of Unrelenting Time.

And so, another year begins, as though time itself dictated firm boundaries within which humankind is expected to function - stardust filling a galactic hour glass set to a 365 day schedule with an occasional cosmic glitch providing one more brief day.

Strange how the year 2005 seemed excessively long and dreary, filled as it was with evolving natural disasters worsened by man's tendency to dirty his own nest and place himself in ever more dangerous positions, and by man made ugliness, blindness and greed causing him to squander the quality of so many lives on frivolous, militant and mindless endeavors. Each day seemed to contain another different indignity, a grab for power from another quarter, a pitiful quest for dominance and control, or a unthinkable injury inflicted by one human on another or one group on its opposition.

One can't help but wonder what stepping over that cosmic boundary into 2006 will actually bring. Will the mistakes of the previous year be repeated? Will newly discovered wisdom suddenly prevail? Or will day follow day in sameness and struggle to control the uncontrollable or override the voices of dissent and restraint as we assist our false concept of progress and empiricism to annihilate what we say we value? Will globalized greed destroy our small planet before, in our localized greed, we destroy each other?

When we are young, time seems to creep by at a belligerently slow pace. When we are young, we have so much to learn and experience that each day is new and different, filled with something wonderful or pure or fresh. Sameness is an illusion, time is our ally, we can play and laugh without guilt, we can loll with impunity in the warmth of summer assured that pleasure will never end, that external demands are like butterflies and fireflies to be caught and admired. We can dream and imagine. We can plan and fill the daylight hours with simple accomplishments and pleasure, and sleep like exhausted puppies through night's recuperative hours and arise to start a brand new adventure the next day.

As we age, the tempo of time accelerates a hundred fold. We are left with fewer days to rectify mistakes, greater pressure to hasten conclusions, stressed and filled with panic that our unrealistic expectations will remain unfulfilled and time will deny us our greatest desires. So, we dance faster but not wiser, never learning to reflect or explore the basis for our greed or delusions. What were the idealized days of youth turn into the cynical madness of shortened days following days following yet more days of hollow sameness as variety lessens and new experiences vanish. It is this repetition, this monotony, this emptiness of the new that skews our sense of time and the worth of our own existence.

The ultimate question remains. Can we learn from each of the tragedies and horrors of a painful 2005 and turn 2006 into a more thoughtful and enjoyable year? Can we, regardless of age, make each day of this new period of time more positive and viable, more fresh in outlook, more adventurous in spirit, more filled with sound judgment and learning, more active in the resolutions required to rectify our errors and faulty steps? Can we find the fortitude and purpose to pick up a lance of character, jump on our steed named Integrity, and bravely joust against the lies we tell ourselves? Or will we merely acknowledge that here be dragons and let days follow relentless days while we hope not to be devoured?