A Little Break Doesn’t Mean the Shows Over

I took a little break to refuel after posting everyday for 46 days. I was feeling a little winded. As  I look back over my month and a half of posts, I feel that most of them are just what I wanted. There are a few I threw out there without thinking  just to post something. That was going to happen again this Thursday until I decided to just take a couple of days off to think about where I am going with my writing. I am still thinking, but I decided to think out loud a little.

I have been so busy the last few weeks I feel like I am viewing my life from a bullet train with trees and buildings close to the tracks. Everything is is a blur, but it feels as if I am getting somewhere. The only problem is, I am not sure I where I am going. I want to write more, but about what? I am thinking about my job a lot lately and so am doing my work in a more thoughtful and thorough way, but I am not completely satisfied by my work. Writing is an important part of the way I arrange my thoughts and make my life feel right to me, but if I am always concentrating on work, work becomes my life and that seems to narrow a plank for me to walk. I feel best when my imagination and creativity are given wide fields of possibility in which to roam. I find my work satisfying, when I am doing well at it, as I am engaged in it, but I find it constraining to be spending so much of my time at it.

I am trying to piece together some ideas for my next novel. The bits and broken threads lay in little piles refusing to be attached to each other. My work is like a breeze that constantly wafts through scattering the piles into the corners and under the furniture. I try to write about work, but then it feels like I am always working. Writing my first novel was more like playing with a story. When I write poetry, I plays with the thoughts and ideas behind words. Writing about what I do for a living is like working, I don’t mind doing it and even gain some pleasure from it, but it doesn’t give me a feeling of opening into a broader world, more a feeling of looking through a magnifying glass and taking notes. I get tired of the constant need to be right about what I am doing. To say the right thing in the correct way is an important part of being a professional. In my writing I want to not give a damn. I want imagine what the world would be like for someone who was not a preschool teacher, but that is hard when I am concentrating on being a preschool teacher because that is important to me too.

I need to find a balance. There is also my family and friends and music and art and the beautiful day to consider and be part of. I have tried all my life to balance all of this. My huge feelings for a full life, the need to support my life with work, and my relationships with people that are part of my life. I tip this way and that, like a juggler spinning plates on poles. I focus on one for a while then out of the corner of my eye I see another start to wobble. I rush over and give that one a spin, and so on. It seems like after 50 years I could find a way to keep it all going without dropping plates, but I am always having to catch them and put them back on their poles. Mostly I am better at not breaking them or having them roll too far away for me to find in time to keep the others spinning smoothly. I need to invent an extra hand or an extra me to get all this spinning done, to keep the balance. But where does it all end up, eventually something will fall, and I won’t have the gumption to get it all going again. What I need is to find a way to put all my plates on one pole or at least closer together so that I can keep them going without all the flurry. The problem with that is I have very little control over where my poles are the people and activities of my life seem to choose me. They move where they will, and I try to find the middle ground so that I can make it to each before they wobble out of control and I have to decide whether it is worth the effort to get that one up, spinning again or if I should just work with what is left and perhaps be more successful in keeping the show going. Maybe I need to redesign my act, get a trained seal, or some poodles who ride ponies. I can just stand there and give orders. I am sure there are drawbacks to this also, feeding, training etc. Maybe I should just get a dummy and learn to speak without moving my lips. I am sure I could come up with something, but for now I will try to maintain the balance and minimize the breakage.

Posted in All part of the process, can't really complain but, developing relationships, discovery and recovery, mindworks, my life, novel projects, paying attention, playing games, Questions and riddles, Teaching and Learning, thinking in words, working world | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

One Way to Live in this Crazy World

I think of life as meaningless and yet it excites me. I always think something marvelous is about to happen.

 — Francis Bacon

I wish I could live like this, but I, like most other human beings, have a need to look for some meaning in the strange and random events that are constantly coming up in life. I always look for a story when I should just be in that place at that time and live my life. I don’t think I have a destiny or that there is some superhuman mentality behind the scenes organizing the world. It is all too crazy for that to be true.

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More About Stories

The problem with stories is they can be powerful whether they are true or not. Unfortunately there are many untrue and manipulative stories coming out in the commentaries made by certain pundits about the dangers of democracy in Middle East and Northern Africa. This is one of the regions most messed up by both American and European meddling. A region containing diverse cultures with complex relationships which create complicated problems. The story we are told, for the most part, is that these problems are caused by Islamic fundamentalists and non-christian extremist. “They hate us for our freedoms,” is the frame we are given for the story that hides the larger story involving huge corporate interests and  powerful governments, guided by selfish and greedy motives,manipulating regional politics and economics by cynical and sometimes brutal tactics. The frame covers the story that would more accurately tell us they hate us because we use and abuse them to make ourselves feel more secure and comfortable. A simple story is so much easier to accept as the truth. A dictator is easier to control than a democracy. We are fed a steady stream of simple well told stories about why we should support autocracy in other countries even though we would not want it for ourselves. We have the advantage of living in a relatively free country where whole stories are available to people who are not afraid of of their messy details. But in order to live with whole true stories, we have to be comfortable with uncertainty and doubt. That is what makes stories interesting to me, I like not knowing what is going to happen next. I enjoy complex stories with lots of details and interesting characters with full and colorful lives. I would much rather hear those stories than have people stuffed into neat boxes with labels like terrorist and fundamentalist. The more we tell those simple stories the more people out in the world see us as uncaring oppressors who create a world were people cannot tell their own stories. I want everyone to be able to tell their story. I hope the people of Egypt are abe to come together and make a country where that is possible. I believe we will all be safer in a world where all people can speak out and be heard.

Posted in can't really complain but, make your own world, Other peoples words, Telling Stories, thinking in words | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Thoughts About “The Last King of Scotland”

Cover of "The Last King of Scotland (Wide...

Cover via Amazon

I

A Great Performance

Last night I watched “The Last King of Scotland“. It was a well made and fascinating movie that made me think and dream about it. First of all, Forrest Whitaker‘s portrayal of Idi Amin is so real it is eerie. Few times have I seen an actor so totally lose himself in a role that I forget about the actor. Robert De Niro, in Raging Bull, is the only other performance I can think of that comes close of a well known actor portraying a famous person so completely that all you see is the person he is portraying.

II

The Stories that We Tell Make Us Who We Are

The movie also got me thinking about the arrogance of white Europeans, in the form of the young Scottish doctor who is the protagonist of the film. Several times in the film characters point out that he is being naive and arrogant in thinking of his life as an adventure instead of really looking closely at where he is, who he is, and how his actions affect people around him. He is a white European in a black African nation. Yet he still feels as though he is safe and his actions have no affect on the people around him. It is good to show the naive arrogance of white people especially when they are involved in adventures in the third world. But, in some ways the movie wants us to see him as innocent. He is more naive than innocent. This is normal for movies. As a film maker, you want your audience to have sympathy for your protagonist. They show him as a basically good-natured, easy going fellow who shows a genuine enthusiasm for sharing life with everybody he meets. It is made clear that he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. And, yet throughout the film he endangers many people through thoughtless behavior. There is no doubt he thinks of himself as a good and humble person.  But, the consequences of not paying attention are too great. He rises to a level of importance in the lives of other people far beyond his ability to perceive the affects of his actions on their lives. Many would be decent people do this. It is one way that monsters are made in the world. He ends up feeding the monster. It is not the lack of people who have morals and know what is right and wrong that allows monstrous  atrocities to occur. It is the lack of people who have the conviction and insight to act courageously to stop them, people who see what is going on and do something about it in a timely manner. The doctor sees only what he wants to see and ignores what is inconvenient and messy. He is too busy making up his personal adventure story to pay attention to the complex intricacies of an unfamiliar culture.  To the films credit, dire consequences occur, both to himself and others, as a result of his lack of insight.

The film makers of course used every brutal story, true or not, about Idi Amin to emphasize the feeling of danger and instability in the situation. This is definitely a thriller not a historical piece. It shows how people are led by a persuasive charismatic leader out of a bad dream into a nightmare. It is not accurate, but is generally true in the broad historical context. It is also true in the way that it shows the European governments creating an unstable situation by building up a colonial system that supports the degradation of the native people, then abandoning the former colony in its impoverished and illiterate state after training its future dictators, and finally standing by and commenting on the inability of Africans to govern themselves as if they, the Europeans, had no hand in the situation to begin with. Interspersed, throughout the film are minor British characters who state opinions about how poorly the Africans govern themselves, but this comes as no surprise to them. Again it is the arrogance of seeing only the narrative that fits what the storyteller wants to see. In this case, the story of Europeans only want to hear the story about being benevolent bringers of civilization to the undeserving savages. These warped stories help create monsters like Idi Amin, who grow up amid the despair and denigration, hearing the stories of power and wealth dressed in the fine clothing of progress. They write their own stories of self-made heroism in the face of insurmountable obstacles in which they are the only important character. They attempt to erase the many parts of the larger story through fear and intimidation whenever it threatens to contradict the heroic narrative of their personal epic.


A Dream Movie

Another kind of thinking I did about this film was dream thinking. I had a dreams all night, mostly about the minor African characters who where brutally killed in the film and the African thugs who did the killing. It was as if the minor characters all got together and made their own film in my sleeping mind out of revolt against the amount of attention the white Scottish doctor gets in the actual movie. He did not appear in my dream movie. I can only remember bits and pieces of the dream movie which was full of violence and fear. There is one detail I remember clearly. I was in the office of one of Idi Amin’s advisers who had just been disappeared by thugs of the  regime. Examining a row of neatly arranged books, I noticed one in the middle. The title was printed in bold blood red letters that ran the down length of the white spine, “The Three-fold Stone of Culture by Leonard Cohen.” I have no idea what it means or how it fits in with the movie and African politics, but it sounds fascinating. It does not sound like something Leonard Cohen would write, but I would  give it a try if I came across it in my waking life.


Posted in Check this out, Dreamtime, scenes on screens, Telling Stories, thinking in words, visions from the dark side | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Heaven and Hell

“Can I help you, gentleman,” the small intense woman asked as she stepped behind the counter of the sandwich shop. Now she had many metal containers of sandwich fixings, a clear spit guard and about 3 feet separating her and the two very formally dressed young men.

The taller young man said something in a soft tone. It was then that I realized how loudly the woman behind the counter was speaking. From the table where I sat, 20 feet away, I could not hear what he had to say, but her words were quite clear over the hiss and hum of traffic on the wet road outside.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you, I watched my mother die a long, excruciating death because she would not go to a doctor, because she believed in that crap,” the woman responded, in a firm but calm voice. “But would you like a sandwich.”

The young men sheepishly shook their heads and said something else I could not hear from my seat by the door. The two well dressed young men hurried past heads down, n0 doubt wishing they could move faster out into the wet wind of a inhospitable winter day.

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