Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Singing


Breath upon breath,
a weaving of breath
into an air.

Words on words,
enfolding, flowing,
take wing.

Sound and silence,
earth, wind, fire and water,
given voice,

Entitles
all that sounds imply,
on all that dreams may rely.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Monday, July 11, 2011

Democracy, Free Speech and Our Culture of Complaint


A recent letter to the editor of my local paper complained that one big box grocery store in town should be ashamed that their shopping carts were filthy and sometimes filled with trash. The author writes: “a very simple thing that should be without problem has turned into something that has frustrated me enough to turn around and take my business elsewhere.”

My counter to this is that taking her business elsewhere, if the calamitously unclean carts are so difficult for her to deal with, should have solved the problem. “Clearly,” the author of this letter laments, “the employees do not have a high priority for their customer’s [sic] good experience at the store.”

Unfortunately, the author of the letter could not be happy shopping at a store with clean carts, and so now the public has been invited to the party on this earthshaking frustration. How would you weigh in? If Oprah Winfrey’s talk show were still running, would she have brought this topic into the public eye?

Blaming the grocery store for the dirty carts is rather like blaming the local regional park districts for all the straws, discarded disposable (full) diapers other awful offal that litters our beaches and other recreational areas.

Here we have a question of responsibility and accountability. Who is responsible? In either case, the responsible party is the one making the mess. Who is accountable? Well, the author of the letter insists that it must be the management.

I have been among thousands of people (do-gooders) who will pick up other people’s trash at the beach. This is a simple example of taking part in a solution. I have shopped at the store accused of “lack of priority” and I have seen the shopping carts collected for steam cleaning and repair off-site. I am convinced that it is as much of a hassle for the store, as it apparently is for some of the customers, that the carts are trashed by the customers.

Carts are provided as a convenience to shoppers in American grocery stores. Public beaches are maintained for the convenience and cultural pleasure of society. There is a sense of entitlement to any person that points the finger at someone else at the imagined slight of an inconvenience.

If we extrapolate the attitude of the letter writer into a thought experiment about the political realm, what does this say about our society and our democracy? Clearly, there are certain strata of our society that feel entitled to complain that they experience inconvenience—we are spoiled. There are stores, after all, that do not have shopping carts or baskets, and there are places in the world where there are no stores, only weekly open markets—you bring your own baskets or string bags. This is the whine of the first world wannnabe (wannabe rich enough not to have to do the shopping). This kind of whining is primary evidence of a sick society.

The next thing I would wonder about is why the editor of the newspaper would find this letter worthy of printing among the other letters in the editorial page? I happen to know that many letters are written, too many to print on a weekly or daily basis (depending on the circulation of any newspaper). I know that there are many people writing letters about important local hot-button issues. Why did this letter get chosen over one about one of these others? Perhaps this is evidence of the one of the death throes of the news media—easier to print something that is not hard-hitting because it is less likely to be a threat to one of the advertisers or local political bodies. While it may be an inconvenience to me that such a paltry letter to the editor would be printed, but I won’t stop reading the newspaper because of it.

All of the mundane aspects of living are draped with webs of inconvenience, but the shopping must be done anyway. Better to have the option of shopping than not. Some people are starving right now, because of lack of food or currency. Others might be better off in that they can hunt and gather—some people don’t know how to do that. Having to shop for food at a grocery store seems among the very least of any of life’s inconveniences, and into each first world life, surely there is a grimy cart waiting to gum up one's day.

We are, apparently, a society of victims who feel a sense of entitlement to complain about all the little things, while barely having a thought to the larger issues. This is very sad, even pitiful, and is very bad news for democracy.

If we cannot fix our minds on the larger issues, if we do not make our voices known with problem-solving intent, if we are unwilling to be responsible enough pick up the trash, no matter how it got there, and move on to something cleaner and more unified and more civil within the society we call our own, then there truly is no hope. Ownership has attendant responsibility, n’est ce pas?

The woman’s letter closed with this line: “Have you no pride at all in your store?”

Personally, I would venture that the writer has too much misplaced pride, not to mention little sense of personal responsibility.

Here are a few thoughts for the day (notes to self):

Don’t waste your right of free speech on the little stuff. Don’t waste whining on public eyes and ears that we want and need to be educated and informed. Don’t blame the wrong party for what isn’t working properly. Don’t print letters of no moment in the paper.

Do be mindful, get real, be accountable, take responsibility, make your voice be known, and take part in the solution to life’s problems. AMEN!

Friday, July 8, 2011

Stalemate

Long a monument to inaction,
the days and ways to change
fly as birds on the wing.

Control is the final destination
for those who must be right;
if not me, then no one.

Passive-agression has a face:
blank eyes smolder with hate;
why are you not in my image?!

No brilliant strategy can bind;
the way to freedom, step away
and proclaim the game unworthy.

The resulting stale mate
claims a winless victory
and a libation of gall.

Birds on the wing fly away,
leading days and ways to change,
leaving droppings on all monuments of inaction.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Thursday, July 7, 2011

She Fell


A cloud
passing overhead
released a solitary drop.

She plunges through air
with as much abandon
as friction will allow her,
the while losing bits of self
to the surroundings.

Down, down, down,
she falls down;
warm through the cold,
wet through the dry

Until a violently soft contact
presages a realization

For the smallest fraction of a moment
she feels her roundness
spreading flat
over something colder,
vaster,
more dense

The vast abyss opens,
opens beneath her,
emptying her
into the flow of everything.

A short conversation,
but full of meaning:

She knew herself,
she found other,
and, recognizing it,
by the tension of the meeting,
found other welcoming,
even loving.

She belonged here,
she knew,
and was happy now to stay,
at least until the sun might
call her back to the sky.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Free Speech, Rageoholism and Flaming

Last week, I was privileged to be at an Art Slam party. That was the way a friend of mine decided to celebrate her birthday. What a fabulous idea! It was lots of fun. I made a small collage, someone else did some beading, another lady brought knitting—many people were engaged in artistic flight.

We were gabbing about this that and the other. One of the women is a journalist who runs a news blog. She was a little down because her postings on a topic that has been hot and heated in my local community had been “flamed” in the comments section. The same people, over and over again, seem to have the understanding that the blog forum is an appropriate place to say whatever you want in whatever way you want to say it. “Free Speech,” these people stridently claim when they are asked to please be nice and keep it clean. The attacks usually escalate, becoming vicious ad hominem discussions, calculated to bait you into the argument. One news blogger I know had to disallow the comments feature altogether, which she could do, because hers is an independent blog.

Is uncivil discourse in public forums really Free Speech?

No. Of course it is not. It is rageoholism, a problem rampant in our society.

If you haven’t heard of rageoholism, I would be really surprised. However, I have no doubt that you have been at the receiving end of its senseless venom.

Here is the Wikipedia definition of the term rageoholic:

A rageaholic or "anger addict" is a person who gets excited by expressing rage, or a person prone to extreme anger with little or no provocation. While "rageaholic" is not a formal medical diagnosis, it has been developed as a lay psychology term by counselors and anger-management groups seeking to help people who are chronically angry and who compulsively express fits of rage. There are also 12-step programs for dealing with rageaholics, such as Rageaholics Anonymous in Los Angeles, CA.

Key indicators of rageoholism in an individual are: compulsion, obsession, denial, withdrawal with craving, behavior that is unpredictable and irrational. It is an addiction. We had the term “road rage” long before we had the term “rageoholism”, but most road ragers are rageoholics; these folks just take out their anger from behind the wheel of a car.

When the rage addict finds the open, forum of blogging to be an easy venue, particularly within which to act anonymously. When the blogger is a purveyor of news, it is difficult to censor the community.

Rageoholics think that they have the right to behave badly, that it is okay to vent—even that venting is a healthy thing for them to do.  Ragers are “cup mostly empty” people. There can be desperation to their actions, but mostly the craving is for control of other people’s thoughts—the rager really, really wants your attention in the worst way, and needs your enabling participation in order to perpetuate the angry behavior.

When ragers act over the internet, what they do is called flaming. Here’s the Wikipedia entry on flaming:

Flaming, also known as bashing, is hostile and insulting interaction between Internet users. Flaming usually occurs in the social context of an Internet forum, Internet Relay Chat (IRC), Usenet, by e-mail, game servers such as Xbox Live or Playstation Network, and on video-sharing websites. It is frequently the result of the discussion of heated real-world issues such as politics, sports, religion, and philosophy, or of issues that polarise subpopulations, but can also be provoked by seemingly trivial differences.

Deliberate flaming, as opposed to flaming as a result of emotional discussions, is carried out by individuals known as flamers, who are specifically motivated to incite flaming. These users specialize in flaming and target specific aspects of a controversial conversation, and are usually more subtle than their counterparts. Their counterparts are known as trolls who are less "professional" and write obvious and blunt remarks to incite a flame war, as opposed to the more subtle, yet precise flamers. Some websites even cater for flamers and trolls, by allowing them a free environment, such as Flame-Wars forum.

You could call the syndrome “Bait and Bitch” and not be far from the truth. This is a mental illness that feeds on victimization and control. Every victim who engages with the rager empowers the rager to more and ramped up behavior.

This kind of rage is impotent, yet it is destructive. Victims are scarred. Damage is real.

This is the illness of a sick society.

Rageoholism is not free speech, it is the war at home.

Let us pray for our wounded society, where some people feel they have license to thrive on wounding others, because that is the only way that they can feel as though they have control or power. Let us pray for those who are wounded in this war.

--

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flaming_(Internet)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rageaholic

Monday, July 4, 2011

independence day

not from,
but to;
more specifically:
to be,
no matter
who,
what,
when,

where,
how or
why—
independence
to integral connection,
to the mindful dance
of spatial presence
and understanding,
of communion
within community,
where imperfect us
sings the chorus
to perfect now,
anticipating silence
will sing the verse
that opens our hearts
from inward outward to
together.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen 

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Transcriptions

A cacophony of voices rises,
along with the noises of Life;
the shrieks, crashes and throbs
of man, machine and beast—
a polyphony of distractions.

There is no substitute for listening,
even among the best thought partners,
and doubly true that is for the transcriptionist
who must gather a single thread,
from among the knotty ribbons of fire,
that will allow Theseus to quit the labyrinth.

Loudness and speed or lowness and length
are symptomatic of a need for supremacy.

On the one hand, those windows of silence,
that would bring necessary context,
are lost in the wall of loud, louder, loudest.

On the other hand, many words run too fluidly
to make out with any certainty whatsoever.
And so the peace and understanding
of all the world hangs on the ears
of the lone and earnest stenographer,
to accurately record life, libation, living and love
as a single strand of thought, a manifesto.

The wings and winds of distraction
whip at curtains of indecision and disillusion,
not to say disinclination,
to forge something real from delusions,
something that will last beyond a convenient now,
something that will cancel the end game.

But, there comes an end to all our talking—
we must breathe to speak, and so we stop;
all is futile, futile, utterly futile,
even while the earth glows with Life—
we are mostly deaf to Life’s music;
it plays beyond our petty cravings,
beyond our ignoble dominions and wars.

Silence comes only because we must stop,
and welling, as from within an eruption of silence,
a truer answer finds voice and flight,
one that only the transcriber can hear.

The answer is heard by one,
but goes unrecorded;
truth often lies outside
the contractual agreement.

© 2011 by Elisabeth Eliassen