When my Beloved and I and others started working toward living in community (some six years ago, now), there was this thing that "happened" (well, actually, there was this thing that we did).
My Beloved happens to be a person of great attention, focus, and integrity. She is the one who will most often say: "I don't think that fits with what you say you want to do".
She would often pipe up with something like this when we were in the first formative years of our community -- assisting us to come to clarity on something that had been left muddy, asking us all to question how and why we were moving forward as we were -- whether it was a matter of avoiding an important process that might be uncomfortable, or of copping out on our basic values for the sake of appearance or expedience.
It was because of this that some of us (including me) began to refer to her (affectionately) as our "Cosmic Cop". (This wasn't an "official" title, nor did we ever cede the power of this role to her consciously, but I think that our choice of words indicated clearly that we were authorizing her, in some way, to serve in this capacity.)
Which was fine, in some ways -- and not so fine in other ways.
For one thing, I think that I began to "lean on" her for this service. I stopped paying close attention in some ways, relying on her unfailing discernment to point up dissonant actions and words, and counting on her somewhat legendary patience as we worked through issues.
To my mind, it's bad enough that I got intellectually and emotionally lazy in this way, but there was this other thing that started happeningwe did (probably about a year and a half into the process): Some of us (myself included) started to ever-so-slightly resent her for the very role that we had assigned to her.
There were conversations where she would quietly point out something which was absolutely true -- but inconvenient to our particular personal agenda or focus in the situation -- and then there would be resistance and argument (yes, I did it, too) -- the kind of fruitless, defensive, resistant argument you get when the arguer secretly knows that the person who has confronted them is completely, totally, and irrefutably RIGHT. (Isn't that infuriating?!?!?!?!)
The kind of argument which usually ends with you having to make a shame-faced apology for being such a stubborn ass and such a defensive twit. *blushing shame-facedly*
Fortunately, due to the good boundaries and sense of my Beloved, she perceived this pattern developing, and one day, in a community meeting, quite frankly told us all that she was resigning from the position of Cosmic Cop -- an official job for which she was receiving no remuneration of any kind, no modicum of respect or appreciation, and which she had come to loathe (due to that resistant, defensive, argumentative crap).
Her choice was very helpful to the group, and very helpful to me.
The moral of the story being: Don't invest someone else with authority (usually by handing them the responsibility), and then waste their time and energy, and yours, resisting and arguing and whining and moaning and complaining when they exercise the authority that you gave them -- this is a way of attempting to hand them the responsibility but keep the power (See: Shit Not To Do Because It Doesn't Work, Part IV).
I'm sort of a natural organizer -- of events, projects, opportunities, and people (when they want that from me). I seem to have a talent for initiatory energy -- while other people may tend to talk about things, I tend to move into action.
I think this is something I've always tended toward, but it may be a result of the gigantic number of deferred dreams that I've had in my life, and a deep understanding of my own rhythms and cycles that leads me to a certainty that, if I don't act on something fairly soon after talking about it, it will likely drift away into the ether.
So, when the weekly support group starts talking about wanting to have an online forum so that we can keep in contact with a member who has moved across the country, or organize car-pooling, I tend to be the person who goes home and sets up the prototype.
I'm quick to pipe up with "I can do that!", when some task needs doing before we can move forward. Sometimes, this is entirely unrealistic of me, given my schedule and existing task-list. I've learned to bite my tongue a bit more, but still, in most group-efforts that I've participated in, I have usually been one of the more active, contributing members. I don't resent this. I recognize that I'm the one who says "Yes".
I would say that, 70-80% of the time in my life, these type of tasks I have taken on have been unpaid -- things that I did because I had a passionate belief in a cause, or a deep love for the members of the group, or simply an interest in seeing how something worked (setting up an internet forum, designing a web-form, preparing a database for a tricky tracking system).
In my younger days, when I had some part of me that was motivated to volunteer in these ways so that people would "like" me, I sometimes felt resentment if I wasn't appreciated for these acts, but as I learned better boundaries, and more about my own cycles, and how far I could extend myself without burning out, I found that I didn't actually need the appreciation of others as much.
It was nice if I got it, but if I didn't get it, I made sure that there was enough satisfaction in the work itself for me to keep enjoying it, and enough clarity in myself to quit when I wasn't enjoying it anymore.
However, I found that there was something that did bug me.
Now, when I'm doing a job and being remunerated for it fairly, I figure that the payment IS my appreciation, in some way. If I get extra appreciation on top of that, I consider it a bonus (and true enough, that does tend to fuel my eagerness and motivation, as anyone who has been an employer knows) -- but I don't consider that appreciation is part of the required exchange that I make with my boss/client/purchaser.
In the case of doing something on a volunteer basis, I have found that appreciation is sometimes in scant supply -- especially if you make the thing you're doing look pretty effortless (and doing things in an easeful way for myself is one of my biggest goals, especially in terms of volunteer work).
In the days when I really "needed" appreciation for the hard work I was putting in, I often put myself in a Catch-22, because I really liked wearing the identity of the wunderkind who could pull stuff out surprisingly quickly and seemingly easily -- and that necessarily made it very difficult for other people to appreciate just how much fucking work I'd put into it.
Realizing that I had this potentially conflicting desire for wunderkindishness and yearning for appreciation, I started to make realistic adjustments in how much I took on, and why, and when, and made a conscious decision to take the same attitude that I did in most of my paid work -- that my satisfaction level while volunteering had to be high enough that appreciation was simply a bonus.
I managed this in a lot of different ways: Doing things I wanted to do anyway, volunteering in situations where I was able to observe that I was somehow making a direct difference for an individual or a group, and turning down tasks that I suspected wouldn't actually go anywhere.
That has worked pretty well for me, but there is still this one thing that can actually bug me. Here it is:
Doing work for nothing, and not only not getting any appreciation, but getting several things that I consider the antithesis of appreciation:
Non-constructive criticism (aka complaint -- defined as: "bringing up your problem about something with absolutely no intention of moving toward, or contributing to, a solution").
Continually escalating demands for more, with absolutely no demonstration of awareness of what fulfilling those demands would mean in terms of my time and energy, and no willingness to contribute anything to mitigate that increased energy-output from me -- and --
Attitudes (sometimes directly expressed, sometimes subtly indicated) that I somehow "owe" this additional contribution of time and energy that benefits the person who is asking for more -- even though it is a contribution that they themselves would not consider making (usually, if I pointed this out, they were offended, or defensive, or both).
That bugs me.
Again, I think that this boils down to the inseparable power/responsibility issue.
When they complain about (rather than constructively criticize) what I am doing, they are asking me to shoulder additional responsibility, they take no responsibility (beyond lodging their complaint), and yet they want to retain the power of having input into how I carry out that additional responsibility.
It's sad to say, but it's true -- although this is a situation which I would never tolerate in an employer/employee relationship (or at least, not for long), I have put up with it in volunteer situations more times than I care to describe -- in fact, it's come up far more often for me in volunteer situations than it ever has in employment.
I think that one of the reasons for this may rest in how we value transactions that are considered culturally "valid" (iow, transactions in which money or material goods change hands) as opposed to how we value transactions where "only" time and energy is exchanged. (The intricacies of that subject are fodder for . . . . . yeah, yeah, you've heard it before . . . a whole 'nother post.)
If I thought that going into minute detail on the roots and causes of how volunteer work is devalued would stop people from devaluing it, I'd go in with my fine-toothed comb and tease it out right now -- but I don't, so I won't.
Instead, I'm going to go to something that's much more visceral -- something that will, perhaps, help you stop devaluing your own volunteer work, or the volunteer work of others.
When someone gives something away or provides something without a demand for remuneration (although they may request a donation) --for example: an amazing piece of software, the rights to their words or art, or an entire blog community -- we often call it a "Labor of Love" -- we generally assume that the person provides it because it serves them to do so -- however esoterically -- and we usually forget that this labor of love is still just that: Labor.
Personally, I don't think that I "owe" them recognition or appreciation for their labor -- their offer is, I assume, given freely, and any request for a contribution of my energy is just that -- a request.
But --- and -- because I do happen to believe that "what goes around, comes around" and that treating others as I wish to be treated is just good Karmic economic policy -- and because I've experienced that sticking to these precepts has generally resulted in a more satisfying existence for me -- I tend to contribute when I can to those who request monetary contributions for their offerings.
If I don't have something to contribute monetarily at a given moment, I try to show my appreciation in other ways -- by expressing appreciation to the offerer directly, by referring people to them, by providing them some of my energy as a volunteer, and, most importantly, by valuing what they offer.
When I see a true Labor of Love, and I partake of its benefits, I tend to cherish it as if it were my own.
What I don't tend to do is to shit on it. Because I think that shit on a Labor of Love is thrice-shitty.
Once shitty for the devaluation of the real time and energy of real beings that went into it.
Twice shitty for the willingness to benefit from something, and then shit on it as if you never benefitted from it.
Thrice shitty for the ability to dissociate from the deep pain that is caused to beings when the children of their hearts are disparaged and demeaned.
I make a distinction between bringing constructive criticism to a Labor of Love and shitting on it.
Constructive criticism is motivated by, and accompanied with, an intention to find a solution -- to make the child stronger, or wiser, or more capable.
The Open Source movement is a perfect example of this -- people find a bug in a program and bring their critique with the intention of making the program better. Often, they will also bring their abilities and experience directly to work on the solution. That's not shitting, in my opinion. That's joining the Labor of Love.
Shitting on someone's Labor of Love is expecting them to do something you aren't willing to do, or to even help with, and when/if they refuse or fail to do what you expect, complaining that they have somehow failed you.
Shitting on someone's Labor of Love is letting them take all the responsibility and still demanding power.
Shitting on someone's Labor of Love is constantly asking them for more, and more, and more, when you already admit that you've received a pearl beyond price -- because in that moment, you are admitting that you're quite willing to have that person be your servant, rather than acknowledging them as your benefactor.
Personally, I believe that all of this applies pretty globally (if you want to just take that global lesson away and not get specific, just skip down to the last two lines) -- but from here on out I'm going to get specific:
This week, I've been attempting to breathe deeply and be of support to a friend and much-admired blogger -- the blogger, in fact, who was the direct impetus for me starting this blog: Melissa McEwan.
Melissa has been a direct and daily inspiration to me, and she has taken daring steps to create what I believe is a revolutionary space on the internet -- a virtual space that is truly a community -- a community that thousands visit every day.
She long ago took the difficult step of releasing control of her own personal blog to a diverse group of contributors. She lost her job because she had the temerity to speak her truth, and now, can't find work in her chosen field because a potential employer googling her name from a resume would find her in the center of a scandal that she didn't create. She has endured both physical and internet attacks on her property because of her writings, and has weathered criticism from the blogosphere for clinging to her own ethics and principles. She has refused to run ads containing sexist and demeaning materials that other blogs run, because she cares more for the integrity of her blogspace than the dime in her pocket, and she has daily, constantly, consistently brought her perspective, wisdom, and vulnerability to create a safe space for thousands of people.
I believe that she's done this as a Labor of Love.
She's also said, recently, that she doesn't think she can continue. She's tired of being asked to do "more" by people who don't step up to contribute to that "more". She's tired of funding, out of her family's single income -- out of their small collective pocket (with little-to-no financial support from the community that she has created and nurtured) -- a venture that benefits thousands of others but which is draining her dry financially, emotionally, and physically.
She's tired.
That's not surprising to me, after four years of daily writing for, moderating, and managing an enormous blog community.
What is surprising to me is that readers of that blog, after saying things like: "This blog is so important to me! It's the first thing I check every day!"-- can follow this up with things that read to me, essentially, like this: "Rest up!" . . with the lingering, unspoken " . . . so you can get back to serving us!"
I find myself wondering -- have any of them ever volunteered for four straight years, working 70-100 hour weeks? Do they have any idea what kind of "rest" would be required to replenish that effort? Especially when the teaspoon-wielding that the blogger in question performed (and inspired) was in the midst of the greatest tidal-wave of Constitution-bashing, human-rights-inhibiting, devolution of democracy that our nation has seen in at least 30 years?
OK -- so there's my rantish portion of this entry -- now, for some actual action suggestions about how to stop devaluing volunteer work (wielding the teaspoon, this time, in the direction of one of our own):
1) If you are concerned that you haven't seen a post from Melissa McEwan at Shakesville for the last five days, and you're wondering if she's leaving the blog, and you don't want that to happen -- email her or leave a comment at the blog -- and ASK WHAT YOU CAN DO TO HELP.
2) Make a contribution to Shakesville. There's a Donate Button at the website -- just scroll down and look on the right side-bar. Make a commitment to making a contribution to Shakesville every month -- go on -- you can do it -- $3-$5/month? Yes, there are a few people who truly cannot afford that -- but most can. For many, even if it meant a sacrifice, it would mean giving up a couple of beers or a latte, or purchasing a copy of a magazine every month. (Those for whom this would mean not eating, or paying your rent -- just ease up on yourselves -- I'm not talking to you.) But seriously, if you love Shakesville, buy Melissa a latte and a bagel once a month -- if you met her in real life, wouldn't you take her to lunch? I would.
3) Listen when she tells you that she's overloaded. Do something to help. (Hint: "Go get some rest," is helpful when rest is all you need.)
And you know the old saying don't you?
4) Never shit where you eat.
========= (Post-note In Which Portly Anticipates Some Human Being's Responses: You might read this and say: "Well, you're just coming to the aid of your friend." Yes. That's exactly right. I'm coming to the aid of someone that I admire and cherish. Want to make something of it? And my response to you would be: "Why aren't you?")
My Beloved turned 52 today, and she/we had intended a similarly quiet day.
However . . . . . . .
At around 10 am, it started raining.
Now, we are used to rain in the Great Northwest. Water is our element. Patterings and sloshings and drippings and gurglings are our soundtrack.
Today, though, it rained in the way that I remember from the Midwest -- as if someone is throwing great five-gallon buckets of water at you over and over -- the kind of rain no umbrella will shield you from, and even your Helly-Hansons will not keep from pruning some portion of your delicate hide.
Which was novel -- and I was actually fine with it -- I had already dedicated my day to hanging with my Beloved, letting the tides of her birthday wishes take me along in the directions she wanted to travel (and from the heavy hanging sky of early morning, I figured there would be much lounging and napping involved).
My beloved says that only cats really know what to do with a day like today.
It was around 11:00 or so that she went to the basement to get something.
"Honey . . . . . . I think you need to come down here."
I hate hearing things like that. You know -- that particular tone?
The basement drain was rhythmically regurgitating water -- and a wide pool had already spread around the chimney wall and toward the washing machine. Fortunately, the only things that were actually sitting in the drink were non-permeable (for the most part), and the pool was shallow.
We moved stuff around and put the press-board bookshelves up on blocks, just in case (the water hadn't reached them yet), and began mopping and bailing while I called the City to see if a storm drain was blocked.
The City crew showed up in about 10 minutes (one of the pleasures of a small town), and the three of them stood around my drain (where I had been watching the water gurgle up, then sucked it by the several gallons into my wet/dry vac, dumped it, and watched it gurgle up again). They were admirably responsive to my concern, and the older, bigger guy sent the two younger, littler guys out to the street (in that rain -- and not really hiding his delight in being able to order them out there while he stayed inside, dry), to dig up the outlets and make sure that they were running. Which they were. Which meant that the problem was in my sewer line, not with the city's storm drain. Which meant that I needed to call the landlord to authorize a plumber. Which I did.
Meanwhile, the rain slowed and the water in the drain, while not receding completely, at least stopped puking into my basement to the tune of several gallons a minute.
Long story short -- the drain stops spitting up, the plumber comes by in the next couple of hours (another lovely thing about my tiny town, where competition amongst plumbers is fierce and untamed, like an episode of Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom).
He's a short, scrappy 20-something, and he doesn't seem to like me at first, but as the time goes by and he realizes that I really am willing to stand by the toilet and flush! every time he commands me to, while he snakes the sewer (saving him many, many trips up and down the basement stairs), he begins to warm to me, I think, calling me by my first name as we part.
Report: There are roots in the drain. It is marginally clear now, having been rootered, but we should keep an eye on it when we shower or run a bunch of water through it. The roots have been there for a while, but the big rain has the ground so saturated that the blocked (and broken) line can't drain as it usually has been doing (out the sides, not down to the street). He'll call the landlord to get authorization for this. He does. He calls me back. He'll be back with his crew on Friday to dig up our front lawn and lay a new line to the street.
Phew. There are times that I'm glad I rent, rather than own. I was a homeowner once. With a good landlord, I think that the trade-offs of power and responsibility are pretty much a wash. Yeah, I can't do exactly what I want with the property without the landlord's permission, but also -- when the sewer line needs replacing, it's not my problem.
On with the day.
My Beloved and I take deep sighs, and I realize that the whole thing has been a bit stressful.
We talk about the metaphor of the events of the day -- water (emotion) that we're done with, and want to move along (waste water) actually backing up into our house, and threatening to damage our possessions because roots (grounding, stability) have blocked the way to let it flow down to its ultimate desired destination. We talk about how this fits with our sense that it's time to move, but we don't know what's next, so we are tending to cling to the grounded, stable situation we've known.
Then we each have a little shot of the cute tiny bottle of Pravda Vodka that our friend has left as a birthday gift for my Beloved.
Since neither of us usually drink hard liquor, we toast to the future that we do not know, cough a bit, and bless the rain.
Hope is a teenager who never learned to be cool, or how to slouch with feigned indifference against the lockers of my heart.
Instead, it drops its books and stumbles into strangers -- pushes its glasses into place, and proceeds to class despite all odds.
The popular kids may pass with derisive stares, with skin-deep beauty that cannot hide their fear. Hope just keeps gaffing its way along, unfashionable, clumsy, embarrassingly authentic.
Well, I've been living with the aftermath of coming out for a couple of days now, and I'm noticing some benefits:
1) I notice that I feel bigger -- as if my energy is flowing all the way to my edges.
2) I've had occasion to look at my "other" blog, and for a treat, I thought I'd look up this date (Nov. 8th) and see what I was up to a few years back.
This is what I found -- an entry dated 11/8/05 (Three years ago -- fancy that!) -- called:
Feeding the Beast ====================
Last week, while I was pretending to be sick, I did a good bit of “serendipity surfing” on the internet. This is very different than using the internet for research and examination. It involves some elements that can lead to surf haze, but in this case, I was just wandering aimlessly, so I experienced no real disappointment or shock when I arrived at some weird destination (shock at, or a sudden realization of, arrival at an unexpected web location is a primary warning symptom of surf haze).
Here’s a thing I noticed, in many of the threads I was following: There seem to me to be a lot of people out there actively nurturing their anger.
I don’t think that this is always a bad thing. For example, I know some people that tend to live their lives in a fairly inert state, and anger sometimes seems to be the only thing that gets them motivated to take action. If anger does lead them to action, this might actually be a net-gain for them.
Many times, though, I think there can be a state where feeding anger actually becomes a recreational activity — and that this state can become habitual, even enjoyable, to the participant. In this case, taking any action to move the anger would actually become an undesirable thing, for if the anger stops, the “game” is over.
I say this because I became aware of my own attachment to “righteous wrath” in the past. In earlier periods of my life, I would patiently harbor my “little angers” in secret, waiting until someone fucked up so unambiguously that I could jump out, my hair standing on end like John Brown in the Kansas State Capitol Rotunda, and scream “Philistene! Reprobate! Sinner!” In that moment, the experience of anger felt satisfying and potent.
Problem was, this practice rarely changed anything. The person “at” whom I was angry kept doing things that “made” me angry.
And, after a time, my hairdo started to suffer, after so much standing on end.
And — I wasted a lot of my life energy “scouting around” for stuff to get angry about.
And — people around me tended to see me as slightly dangerous (which I think was a justified conclusion, by the way).
A BRIEF PRIMER ON WHAT I NOW BELIEVE/THINK ABOUT ANGER:
I don’t believe that “anger” is an emotion.
I believe that “mad” is an emotion.
I believe that mad comes first, in the moment, and is closely related to the physical experience of “irritation/inflammation” — it indicates that something is breaching the natural boundary of my Self in a way that is out of alignment with Cosmic Law. (I’m not going to go into my understanding of full-fledged Cosmic Law right now. Suffice it to say that it involves us all being connected, sovereignty/free-will being a reality, authenticity required, and equal exchange being necessary to all sustainable systems — oh damn, I just went into my understanding of Cosmic Law.)
I believe that “mad” can be my response when someone else violates Cosmic Law, or when I violate Cosmic Law, and that I was trained to project this emotion outward onto someone else, even if I’m really mad at myself.
I believe that if I don’t deal with “mad” in the moment, it becomes a secondary phenomenon called “anger” — an energy-generating device that says “Do something! Do something! Do something!”, and that this (anger) doesn’t go away until I address the root cause of the “mad”.
I believe that if I don’t deal with “mad”, “anger” will result. If I don’t deal with “anger”, “frustration” will result. If I don’t deal with “frustration”, “rage” will result.
The best example I can give is this (from Carruch, as usual): “Mad is ‘You’re whistling right now and it’s bugging me’. Anger is ‘You whistled yesterday, and you whistled the day before, AND NOW YOU’RE WHISTLING AGAIN!!!’”
I don’t think that anger is necessarily bad, or wrong, or anything like that. I’m just wondering if it’s useful. I’m especially wondering if it’s useful to nurture it.
I’ve been trying to remember if any of the “political” people that I know, or read of (or the extremely political person I used to be), have ever really demonstrated some form of pure “glad” in their various speaking/writing for any length of time.
Oh, sure, among liberals, there was that five minutes when Clinton won his first term. And when G.W. Bush “took back” the White House, there was a bit of celebratory feeling among conservatives. But how long was it actively sustained?
I think people can actually become addicted to remaining angry.
Think about it. It’s high energy. Anything that can make your hair do that (just take another look at Mr. Brown up there) must be chock full ‘o ergs.
However, I have my doubts about anger as a long-term recreational drug.
Yes, it is energetic, but that energy has to come from somewhere. And in my experience, it generally comes from the person who is invested in remaining angry. Anger is a hungry beast. It requires a lot of time and attention to keep it smoldering at just the right level to provide the desired level of heat without singing the person that is pumping the bellows.
In my line of work, and in the way I live my life, I have the opportunity to hear a lot of people’s stories. In the past few years, I had the opportunity to interact with two people who were betrayed by their spouses.
Both were in long-term relationships. Both of their spouses betrayed them in blatant, overt, and similar manners. There were parallels in their stories that were spookily synchronistic as I listened to each of them, right down to the specific questions that they each asked which finally elucidated the real nature and extent of the betrayal.
It was fascinating for me to watch these two stories unfold — as if the Universe had placed me in a laboratory with two experiments to observe — both with the same root cause: dishonesty in relationship.
And each with very different outcomes.
My perspective is: One person chose to act on their anger. The other chose to nurture it.
Some years later, I see the effects of these choices. I hear the person who chose action (in my opinion, the request that anger is making) now speaks of their life with renewed direction, hope, and vigor, and rarely speaks of their ex-spouse. I hear the person who chose nurturance speak of being uncertain of which way to go, and mentioning their ex-spouse in nearly every interaction I have with them.
My “scientific” conclusions are, after observing these situations:
If I choose to take responsibility for my anger (an abrogation and dereliction of attending to my initial “mad”), and take the action that anger requests, I will likely move through and beyond it.
If I choose to remain angry and nurture anger, I will likely become inextricably connected to the “object” of my anger.
There is an old saw in our culture: “Don’t get mad, get even.”
I don’t care for the implications of this saying, because I do not believe that “revenge” settles anything — I believe that it simply sets me on another cycle of karma with the person I supposedly “avenging” myself on.
However, if I look at the actual words “Get Even”, I think there might be something in this statement that I want to examine. Something about anger, action and energy exchange.
I believe that dishonesty/manipulation/deceit, etc., sets up an energetic imbalance between individuals. I do not believe that relationships can thrive and remain sustainable if energetic imbalances are not brought into balance (and the sooner, the better).
In observing the person who chose action in response to their anger, I noticed that they moved fairly quickly to directly addressing the energetic imbalance that had existed throughout their relationship with their ex-spouse. I heard from them full admission of their choice to participate in a relationship that had not been satisfying for them for many years.
Yes, this person experienced moments of great anger, which they vented to me quite clearly. However, in a very short time, they seemed to come to the conclusion that remaining angry without taking any real action was exhausting. Their energy, as they moved through their process, seemed extremely variable. They seemed to move in and out of various emotional states quickly — now feeling glad that it was over, now feeling mad about the betrayal, now feeling sad at the loss, now feeling scared about what might be next, now feeling bad about their own participation and self-betrayal. These states of feeling were often entertained simultaneously, or in quick succession.
In observing the person who chose nurturance of their anger, I noticed that, while they would occasionally acknowledge that they had been unsatisfied with the relationship for many years, they seemed to talk much more frequently about the betrayal. In listening to this person, the ongoing dynamic of the relationship seemed to me to be compressed and oversimplified into this “event”, and other persons involved in the event.
This person also experienced moments of great anger, which they vented to me quite clearly. I noticed, however, that there were very few other emotional experiences expressed. I heard much more rarely about any sadness at the loss of the ex-spouse, or feeling glad that it was over, or feeling bad about any self-betrayal. In fact, simultaneous (or conflicting) states of emotion were rarely expressed.
Which cycles me back to the words “get even”. I think that there is great healing potential in the idea of re-balancing long-term energy imbalance. I think this is the essential core of the concept of “revenge” — to somehow reclaim some form of energy imbalance that was created in the process of relating.
But (and as PeeWee always says — a very big BUT) I believe that I might be skating on very thin ice if I attempt to “become even” in a long-term relationship (that hasn’t been cleaned up and attended to along the way) based on a single event within that relationship.
Yes, you may have betrayed me. You may have committed the unspeakable and socially unacceptable act, upon which I can pounce and pronounce myself the John-Brown-holy-man, and you, the sinful reprobate — and then I can be socially sanctioned to remain angry at you forever!
But . . . .
But . . . .
It doesn’t feel any better, really, to be “right”, in the end. It doesn’t remove the longing ache of my sad at the loss of you in my life, the crushing pressure of my bad at my own self-betrayals, the terrifying loneliness of my scared, or my glad relief that finally, something has happened, if only an ending. “Being right” and “staying angry” only covers these emotions with a thing that (temporarily) feels more energetic and enlivening — my mad turned to anger –
The Beast I Feed.
The beast I fed.
I’m pretty dedicated to my pets. Even those who have been given to me, unbidden, I take seriously. I feed and care for them. I consider that I invited them at some level of my being, so I will not abandon them.
(OK -- now that we've got that other thing out of the way, let's get back to business, shall we?)
I'm a firm believer in keeping Power and Responsibility in the same place. I think they are so closely intertwined that it is, in reality, impossible to truly separate them. You can try, of course (and many people do).
"Blame", on the other hand? Well . . . . .
In the bare few days since the election, there's been a whole lot of . . . . . what's the word I'm looking for . . . . . .Coverage? No -- wait, I've nearly got it . . . . . . Media Exposure? No, that's not quite right, either . . . . Oh, here it is -- Shit! -- Yes, there's been a whole lot of Shit going around about how Teh Blacks are to blame for Proposition 8's passage.
I'm going to take this as the example in this installment of Shit Not To Do Because It Doesn't Work.
Let's start with a few basic principles:
Principle #1: "Laying", or "Placing" Blame may look quick and easy when you first go to it, but in fact, it usually takes quite a bit of mental gymnastics and twisting of logic in the end.
Using our example: Consider that in order for the Black vote to be "to blame" in Prop 8, those of African American descent who were eligible to vote in California (including every queer black person) would have had to defy all election probabilities and the principles of simple math.
Principle #2: Finding where the Responsibility rests (as opposed to Laying/Placing Blame) requires very little mental energy -- because it already has a location -- you just have to look and see where the Power is.
Again -- using our example: First -- in this case, the major power behind the passage of Prop 8 was a huge influx of cash to fund a misinformation campaign -- so just Follow the Money -- go ahead -- check out that list, and do a google image search on the names of the top contributors. Of the top 4 contributors (those who funded Prop 8 with donations of more than $1 Million) -- 3 were not from California at all, but rather, Connecticut, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania. Go ahead -- check those individuals and organizations out -- see many faces of color there -- or any? Also, the Church of Latter Day Saints (LDS) was a major force in raising smaller donations, and mounted a huge signage and outreach campaign. The LDS -- you know -- that well-known seat of radical black-power?
Anyway -- my point is that, in this society, $$ = Power -- and as I said before, Power and Responsibility are inseparable.
Now, obviously, individual responsibility for each person's vote rests with the individual -- because that person had the power to pull the lever, press the button, or pencil-in the oval. So if you want to get mad at your neighbor, your mother, your friend, etc., who voted Yes on 8, go right ahead -- but get mad at them for their vote.
If you want to start placing responsibility at a more meta-level, better look for the ultimate source of collective power. (Clue words: Conservative, Wealthy, Patriarchal, Religious, and Predominantly White). Individuals who voted Yes on 8 may be like the cells in a body, but they would never have gotten to the polls without The Brain that was saturated in issues of control, repression, fear-mongering and intolerance.
Proponents of Prop 8 will be using this phrase a lot in the coming days, I imagine: "The People Have Spoken!!!!!!"
Well, not exactly. Since CA has a population of 36.5 million, registered voters of 17.3 mill, and a 62.5% turnout, actually only 29.6% of the people have spoken -- and 14.1% of them said "No".
Think of that. If California were a room full of 17 people (we'll just take the registered voters here), and they took a vote to do something important that would affect all of them in the future, and 6 of those people didn't vote at all (maybe they had a headache, were too busy at the canape tray, or were one of those "I hate meetings" people), and the remaining 11 voted 6-5 -- well, that's hardly a sweeping mandate, is it?
When the headache is over and canapes are gone, you've now got a group of people who are all now collectively responsible for a project that only 35% of them have clearly said they want to do, 30% of them clearly don't want to do it, and 35% of them don't seem to care. (BTW -- this is why I don't like our current democratic system.)
But back to the topic at hand: It seems to me that there's a tricksy-falseness going on with the whole thing in the aftermath of Prop 8 -- an odd, simultaneous --"THEY did it!" living side by side with "The people have spoken!"-- which I believe is all about an attempt to lay blame (shift responsibility) while retaining power.
Which doesn't, ultimately, work -- for the following reason: The neat thing about responsibility is that if you actually have it, it means that you also have power.
Which means if you don't like the consequences of your actions, when you take responsibility for them, you can change them. Cool, huh?
Of course, the bummer is that if you do shit that you can't really stand behind (I am so sick of hearing the phrase "I don't hate gay people, but . . . . . "), you are still responsible for your action, because you had the power to take it.
(And this post is not even touching on the intricacies of how The Brain probably courted and played quite intentionally on existing homophobia within populations that they normally don't give a shit about.)
Let's take this to a more mundane and familiar example: Teenagers.
Raising adolescents is widely reported to be a total bitch (I would confirm this). I think it's a power and responsibility thing.
Teenagers are all about coming into their power as adults. However, in our society, they are considered kids (for whom the parents have responsibility) until they are 18.
Ask a parent of a teen -- they will probably admit to you that they realize that they can't actually control their kid. The dance of teens and parents in this culture usually relies on a tacit agreement that we're not going to say out loud what we all know:
That we can't control them, and they know we can't control them, and we know they know we can't control them, and they know we know this.
Legally, the kid can't be completely responsible until they're 18 (unless they emancipate early) -- and so ensues the awful struggle for them to somehow wrest little bits of power away where they can. Shutting us out of their rooms. Sneaking out at night. Standing in the middle of an argument and speaking in the broad light of day the dirty little secret that is so carefully avoided when cooler heads prevail: "You can't make me!"
On the parental side, we are frustrated by our kid's insistence on increasing power while attempting to avoid responsibility. We chafe at the unfairness of being held responsible for the actions of someone else over whom we really do not have power.
I am intentionally using both a collective and an individual example of what happens when responsibility and power do not dwell firmly together, because I believe that this is an issue which runs from top to bottom in our culture.
I also find the second example a bit amusing, in light of the LDS' statement yesterday:
"The Church calls on those involved in the debate over same-sex marriage to act in a spirit of mutual respect and civility towards each other. No one on either side of the question should be vilified, intimidated, harassed or subject to erroneous information."
-- which, in this case -- since the Yes on 8 relied so heavily on erroneous information, is like a parent saying "Do as I say, not as I do".
Which will drive your teenager crazy.
But I digress.
This statement from the LDS came in response to protests which have been brought right to their doorstep -- and I believe that is an extremely effective tactic -- it indicates that protesters have located the site of responsibility -- right where the power is.
"Millions of others from every faith, ethnicity and political affiliation who voted for Proposition 8 exercised the most sacrosanct and individual rights in the United States - that of free expression and voting,"
Well, yeah, but no other faith group that represents only 2% of the CA population provided 47% of the funding for Prop 8. No other faith group (that we know of) issued letters from the highest elders of their church designed to directly influence the vote, or broadcasted messages encouraging their members to "go viral". Whether this activity violates the 501(c)3 requirements of the LDS is yet to be seen -- but the wielding of power is undeniable.
It's kind of funny (in an "ouch" way) isn't it -- the LDS wants to be a bad parent (Do as I say . . . . ) and a bad teenager (You're so mean! All the others kids were doing it!) -- all at the same time.
You want the Power? Guess what comes with it.
[/end homo rant portion]
To apply this lesson more generally: If you're ever wonder whether you're "laying" Blame rather than letting Responsibility "rest" where it belongs, notice how much effort is involved -- and where the Power is. ================ Part IV in an ongoing series. SNTDBIDW -- Part One, Two & Three Here
Well, it's 10 minutes to midnight on All-Hallows/Samhain -- I haven't posted in 3 weeks, so I thought I'd just leave you with some 3-year old pumpkins (no pumpkins this year -- too busy)
Of course, nothing is sadder than what happens to perfectly good pumpkins later.
Since a lot of people seem to be very focused on the subject of "money" lately, I thought I'd take this opportunity to present a little Portly Lecture.
*clearing throat*
PART I
A Very Brief and Completely Inadequate History of Money (With Extra-Added Bonus Feature: A Number of Sweeping Conclusions Which May Be More Conjectural Than Factual).
The first form of inter-tribal "commodity" money (approx. 9000 -1 bc) was probably livestock/cattle, and some archaeologists/anthropologists suspect that the first form of "representative" money (something that was not the Valuable Thing itself, but rather, an acceptable stand-in for the Valuable Thing) might have been a scrap of hide that represented one cow or one sheep, etc. -- so that you didn't have to actually move the cattle around in order to make the deal -- because moving cattle costs them energy and requires feeding them along the way, and risks them being attacked by predators, etc..
Cowrie shells later had a good go as "money" in a number of cultures (one of the Chinese characters for money is actually based on the shape of a cowrie shell). Cowries and other shells were used as currency in parts of Africa, Asia, and North America. Cowrie shells and later coined money are sometimes referred to as "commodity" money, but I actually think that they were "representational" money as well, for reasons I'll go into below.
Some other forms of "commodity money" (think of this as "stuff that everybody will probably need/use at some point, or which they can trade to someone else who will probably need it) that humans have tried on during the last 11,000 years or so are: amber, drums, eggs, feathers, gongs, ivory, jade, leather, mats, nails, oxen, pigs, quartz, rice, salt, shovel-heads, hoes, various metal ingots, and thimbles.
Why the history lesson? Well, to make one point very clear: Money is nothing more than agreement.
The proof of this is that, even though Cowrie shells were considered perfectly good as legal tender in a wide range of ancient cultures, I'm guessing that you would not be willing to let me purchase your house with them today. (If you would be willing to do so, please email me -- I happen to have some very lovely cowrie shells.)
I find myself particularly bemused when thinking about Cowries as currency, because, although they are pretty and shiny and all, they really have no intrinsic "survival" value aside from any agreement the ancients might have had that they were recognized currency (unlike, say, eggs, salt, or shovel-heads).
You can't eat a cowrie shell. You can't turn a cowrie shell into a tool. Unless you have someone else who agrees with you that they are "money", they are exclusively ornamental.
Which is why I laugh when I hear people rant about the importance of the "gold standard".
Archaeological finds suggest that gold has been used as a form of currency since the 7th century BCE.
My chuckles about the gold standard stem from the fact that gold is so closely parallel to cowrie shells in many respects: Pretty. Shiny. Can't eat it. Lousy for making tools.
In fact, gold's widespread usefulness as a Valuable Thing in its own right (rather than its value as ornament, or any agreements about gold as a currency) is fairly recent -- arriving with the advent of industrial, electronic, and medical uses for gold.
So in the sense of gold's pre-industrial-age value as currency, I actually think gold kind of sucks when compared to cowries as a form of currency -- because gold is heavy -- really heavy -- and the whole idea of agreed-upon currency is to create a portable symbol of agreement so that the underlying barter of goods (which is the true purpose of any representational economic system) is more efficient.
The transport inefficiencies with gold and other metal coinage (why risk a dozen perfectly good oxen dragging some heavy-ass gold around with you as you vacationed in Capri? -- not to mention the danger of robbers) was probably what gave rise to paper money -- and we've been moving toward ever more efficient and portable agreements about money since paper money was first printed in China in the 5th century CE -- we've moved from printed currency to "checks" to paper credit cards and accounts to plastic with numbers to magnetic strips.
But again -- this is all just an agreement -- a rather fragile agreement, as we have been witnessing in recent weeks.
At the end of the US Civil War, Confederate paper money (which started out with a high value at the start of Secession) was valueless -- after the War, these tokens of previous agreement were used to insulate clothing and as litter for hen-houses.
Nowadays, you can buy a set of 13 Confederate banknotes on ebay for around $8 -- but it still isn't valued as currency -- it's been relegated to the pretty/shiny/unusual classification that an ancient trade-bead or cowrie shell has -- because it lacks this one thing:
Agreement.
When I send you a check or a paypal transfer or whatever for xx.xx$USD, it's because we agree that xx.xx$USD=xx.xx$USD or xx.xx₤ or xx.xx$Canadian or xx.xxPesos or xx.xxYen or whatever.
That agreement changes day to day, and here's the first reason that Money Sucks:
Money Suckage #1: You and I don't actually get to be direct, advised parties to that changing agreement.
We don't. We really don't. Not in this culture, anyway. We go online and look at the rate for today that someone else (not us) agrees that our "money" is worth as compared to other types of "money", or as compared to what "our money" was worth yesterday, and then we either groan or cheer.
And when we try to find out who that "someone else" might be? It's this mysterious something called "The Market". It's no one that we can talk to or negotiate with -- it's this huge, weird system that most of us feel baffled and confused by.
Truth is, though, that "The Market" is nothing but a network of human beings and their agreements, and believe me -- somewhere, there is someone (or a collection of someones) who types in numbers and makes decisions and today, I know that that someone is not me, and that collection of someones is not me and my friends/allies/acquaintances (and if some of you friends/allies/acquaintances out there are in this group of someones, and you're holding out on me here, I am letting you know right now that I am not getting you a birthday present this year!).
Money Suckage #2: Wage Slavery
The second way that money sucks is this: The vast majority of people on this planet live in societies in which money is pretty much necessary for basic survival. This, in itself, is not a problem, as agreement on a portable method of exchange is handy and efficient and facilitates a wider range of exchanges.
The problem arises because of this: The vast majority of that vast majority exchange hours of their time, and the use of their energy (in varying forms of muscle-power, brain-power, etc.) in order to "earn" money.
As Joe says at 5:00 of this clip: ".... my life. I sold it to you for $300 freakin' dollars a week!"
Again, even this "sale of life" is not, in itself, a problem -- but here's the rub for me:
Let's take two jobs:
Person A is a 22-year-old delivery-driver, making $10/hour.
Person B is a 48-year-old retail salesperson, making minimum wage ($6.55/hour).
(And yes, these are real-life examples based on people that I actually know.)
Each of them are selling hours of their life, with comparable energy-outputs in terms of physical demands.
Where do I find the arrogance to say that an hour of one of these individual's lives is worth more or less than an hour of the other's?
Think of someone you love for a moment. Let's say that they are about to die, and you have the power to ransom them -- for a price. How much would you pay for another hour of their existence? How much for another day? Another year?
This is where the concept of money gets really difficult for me. I simply have a hard time getting behind any system which arbitrarily "agrees" that an hour of one human being's existence can be worth, say, $120/hour (or more), while an hour of another human being's existence can be worth 50 cents (or less).
I've struggled with this concept for a long, long time, and have not yet resolved it for myself to any degree of real satisfaction.
I suppose that makes me a socialist.
When I add the reality that the valuation of what an hour of my life is worth according to "The Market" may change at any moment, with or without my agreement, or the agreement of the person making $120/hr or certainly, the person making 50 cents/hr . . . . . well . . . . . . why do so many people seem shocked that the system is disintegrating? I believe that we all knew that it wasn't fair, or balanced, or even realistic over the long term -- I believe that we all knew this -- for a very long time.
So, now that I've talked about how much money sucks, let me tell you why I think it doesn't suck:
Money, as a pure concept of a mutually-agreed-upon form of efficient exchange, definitely does not suck. If you and I and a whole bunch of other people can agree that cowrie shells can stand in for a number of other things that we might want to exchange easily and portably, I think that's great.
However, I think that there are some things that are currently not agreed-upon in global human society that we should settle -- before we get on with this whole "money" thing:
1) Everyone who wants itgets a place to live that is safe and hygienic. 2) Everyone who wants it gets enough to eat. 3) Everyone who wants itgets serviceable clothing that will protect them from the elements. 4) Everyone who wants it gets medical care and treatment.
Once that's all taken care of, anyone who wants to develop a trade or service for which they charge 200 cowries per hour is free to do so (as long as it doesn't impact the basic right of any other human to enjoy basic shelter, food, clothing, and medical care). I can agree with them (or not) that I will turn over my cowrie shells at their hourly rate for whatever trinket or service they are selling.
I mean -- if we're going to play a gigantic shell-game -- then let's play it with gusto, and consciousness, and mutual agreement.
Add to this the fact that I was a budding professional insomniac by age 7, and this guaranteed that the night before a big test, or an important school project, I would be laying in bed for hours and hours and hours with eyes so sanpaku that I could have auditioned for the part of mass-murderer in the 2nd grade pageant (of course, if I'd gotten the part, I would have laid awake for hours and hours and hoursthe night before the pageant, worrying about it).
On one such night, I wandered downstairs while my parents were watching Johnny Carson and announced that, since there was no way I was going to get to sleep ever, I should be allowed to stay up and watch the Tonight Show with them.
At which point, my dad gave me a piece of advice that, if advice could be worn out, would be nothing but bare shreds of advice by now (or perhaps, simply trace advice-residue), so often and so thoroughly have I applied it.
"If you're worried about something and it's keeping you awake, and there's something you can do about right now, then get up right now and do that something. If not, then remember that you've done all you can right now, and get a good night's sleep."
If I recall correctly, in that particular instance, the awful, haunting, worrisome thing was a Social Studies test, for which I had done all the studying I could have possibly done, so I went back upstairs and fell fast asleep.
Now, as regards Worrying being Shit Not To Do Because It Doesn't Work, I'm not going to hand you some simplistic "Don't Worry, Be Happy" shit.
I'm going to talk about the merits of refraining from -- or transforming -- Worry based on the original premise of this series -- that the best reason not to worry is that worry doesn't work -- it doesn't actually do anything.
Personally, I think that worry and guilt are two of the most useless pastimes in the world. (Sadly, this doesn't mean I don't engage in these useless pastimes.)
I do not even deign to call them "emotions", because I don't think that they are emotions. I think that they are mental exercises.
Worry is, essentially, a form of fear -- (for what's it's worth, I don't think that Fear is actually an emotion, either, but seriously, if this post is not going to be a nonillion characters long, we're just going to have to save Portly's Definitions of Real, True Emotions for another time, so bear with me for this one, 'K?)
My problem with worry is that, unless you actually harness it as a motivating force (which few people seem to do) I don't see what usefulness it has.
In fact, worry tends to be counterproductive for many (if not most) of us -- giving rise to a certain paralyzed, lethargic state in which the bulk of our energy is channeled into the worrying --and leaving very little energy left over for taking action.
I could go on and on about how this energy-misdirection results in the Worrier taking no action on the thing that's worrying them, thus deepening the cause for worry, but I won't.
Instead, I'm going to move directly into some suggestions about how to stop/refrain from/transform Worrying.
1) Part one of dad's advice has been very effective for me. If I'm laying awake at night worrying, and I can do something that would move the worrisome situation forward for me, I get up right then, and I do that something.
Sometimes, if this is in the middle of the night, this is drafting or even sending an email, sitting down to pay the bills (even if I don't have the money in the bank right at that moment, I actually write the checks out and show any negative balance to myself, so that I have an idea about the actuality of the problem, and have a goal to work toward), or typing out an imagined conversation that I can't actually have right at that moment (because that person would probably be pissed as hell if I called them at 3 am), but that I'm worried about having (this exercise often shows me what anticipated responses from the other person I'm worried about in the conversation).
2) If you're worried about something that you cannot do anything about right now, get that shit out of your head. Stop offering it massive real-estate in your brain. Easier said than done, you say? Well, of course -- but here are some tricks I use:
Make the "Oh-Shit-Oh-Fuck" list. When I'm truly worrying away about something over which I have absolutely no power (not that anyone might be having that problem right about now, I'm sure *ahem*), I actually follow my worry out on paper. I write down what I'm worried might happen -- I might write: "I'll lose my job". Then I ask the question: "Yeah, and then what?" -- which generally leads to something like: "Then I won't be able to pay my bills", or yours might be: "I'll lose my health benefits, and won't be able to pay for the medication I need". I ask again: "Yeah, and then what?" I follow those worries/fears down to the ultimate conclusion (which is usually something like "And then I'll die") to the greatest extent that I can. I put them on paper. If I discover some part of it that I can actually do something about, I write that on a to-do list. If not, I set the OSOF list aside, and if I come up with something else I'm worrying about, I add it to the list. Then, when the worries arise and seem about to eat me, I glance over at the list and think: "Yeah, I've heard that before" or "Oh -- hey! That's a new one! My! Aren't we creative!" *scribble, scribble scribble*. Sometimes, when I go to bed, I'll actually say: "Goodnight, list -- I know you'll probably still be here in the morning, but if not, sweet dreams!"
Talk to someone else about my worries (even small, seemingly ridiculous worries). Preferably someone who isn't likely to commiserate with me in the direction of more worrying.
Make a description of what's actually happening now in my life, and compare it to my worries list. Not as a way of negating the real concerns, or even the ridiculous worries, but as a way of balancing my perspective -- a way of saying: "Yes, I have this worry, and here's what's happening now".
These tricks seem to help me manage my worrying (and get some sleep). When I'm keeping my worries cooped up inside my brain, they tend to bounce off the walls with increasing speed and fury. Getting them metaphorically outside of my brain, while still acknowledging them, seems to be important for me.
For those of you who follow the idea that thought creates reality, and worry (oh no!) that these strategies will simply resonate the thing that you are worried about, well, this is how I look at it: The worry is already in my head. I can deny that and simply try to "think good thoughts", but I've found that that doesn't really work for me.
When I'm feeling worried, and I try to "talk myself down" with positive affirmations, it doesn't seem to work. I think that it's a way of "shushing" the worries, which just makes the worries more worried, because after all, if they were actually invalid, why would I shush them instead of simply hearing them out and saying "That's not a realistic concern" or "That's a completely valid concern and I'll do everything I can to address it"?
In my recent contemplations of the current economic situation (my own and the nation's/world's), I have come to the conclusion that, should it really all go to the worst kind of shit imaginable in a catastrophic, melt-downish manner that I have no control over, I would rather have spent this time feeling alive and engaged, rather than worried and paralyzed.
I'm not saying that you "shouldn't" worry, or that the worries people are entertaining are invalid or unreasonable -- I'm just questioning the effectiveness of turning a large amount of the rather formidable brain-power that exists amongst my friends and acquaintances to that activity.
I'm attempting to practice something other than worry because I've tried it before, and that shit does not work.
Yesterday, I got an alert from Amazon Honor-Pay System that $81 had been transferred from my donation bucket to my bank account.
Seems three of you donated anonymously (I had been alerted about one of the four donations I received that wasn't anonymous), and I want to say -- Thank You, from the bottom of my heart.
The last six months have been a bit dicey for us financially, as I'm sure they have been for many of you. I do a lot of the work that I do in the meat-world free of charge as a minister, and rely on my small business to pay my daily bills -- that's my choice and my desire, but my personal business service is of the type that people generally purchase only after the rent is paid and the groceries are secured (as it should be!), so cash has been pretty thin for us.
The fact that folks left donations during this time when I know that many are worried about finances warmed my heart even more, and that $81 brightened my day considerably. That amount is more than double the total amount that I've received in donations in the entire time I've had the donation-box up -- it was a wonderful surprise -- a little miracle on the 1st of a month when I needed a little miracle.
My Beloved said: "Hey! You got paid for writing!" -- I guess that makes me an "author" now. ;)
On the "more good news" side of the equation, we just found out yesterday that it looks as if we've found someone to share our current space with us, so we'll probably be able to remain where we are for the Winter. We were ready to give notice for the end of November (kind of a lousy time to move in the Northwest).
So -- Thank You -- to those of you who donated, and to those of you who read and comment. Your support means a lot to me, and helps me keep on keepin' on.
