People abandon you

They move, they die, they get mad, changing allegiances take them from you. Worst of all, they break off their friendship without a word because something horrible is happening in your life, and this tells them that it’s time to clue you in on the fact that they were just there for the good times, and you were a sap for thinking they loved you. You probably were too because you probably ignored repeated warning signs.

People who form shallow friendships with a lot of people don’t seem to suffer much when friends go away, but people who invest themselves in only a few other people can suffer a lot. I’m in the latter group, and it has taught me to never assume that any given person will be in my life tomorrow.

When I felt that I had a lot to lose—as with someone I especially wanted to stay friends with—I was burdened by the desire to protect myself by pleasing them. I have, over the years, grown to expect much less from people, and this has made me increasingly content when I get much less and increasingly unwilling to bend myself into a pretzel for what I do get. Living this way makes it easier for me to: know what my feelings are; to be open about them to the extent that is prudent; to let other people’s feelings be what they are; and to be open to hearing whatever anyone chooses to tell me. I’ve learned that not only can I not control other people, it makes life harder for everyone when I try. Besides, I’m too old to lose my dignity to bullshit. I sometimes hear that life is a game, but I don’t see it that way because when something is all you’ve got, it’s not to be trifled with. In regard to wisdom: 

“Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” -from II Corinthians 6:2

Truly, none of us have a long future in which to get our lives in order.

“Our whole life is startlingly moral. There is never an instant’s truce between virtue and vice.” -Thoreau

If you’re playing dice, and you throw seven 7s in a row, you might consider it remarkable, although the likelihood of throwing a 10, 2, 3, 6, 12, 4, and 9, is the same as that of throwing seven 7s. Why is it then that we remember the one and forget the other? It is because our survival as a species depends upon our ability to recognize patterns, the result being that we take advantage of some patterns (such as the seasonal changes that indicate the best time to plant); avoid other patterns (such as the increased risk of being hit by falling rocks during ice melt in high mountains); and imagine still others (as in the case of throwing seven 7s).

I felt frightened when I learned how prevalent randomness is because I took it to mean that I had less control over my destiny than I imagined. I later concluded that, whereas a realistic recognition of what is and isn’t a pattern might not make me feel as safe, it gives me more actual control. Take the case of a ballplayer who pitches a no-hitter while wearing red underwear, and concludes that his future success is more dependent upon red underwear than regular practice. Or consider those who are so enslaved by OCD that they wash their hands a certain number of times at certain intervals, weigh their food to achieve a multiple of that same number, and so on. Belief in an untruth takes energy from productive thoughts and activities and puts it into thoughts and activities that are a waste of time if not destructive.

Another error we humans often make in interpreting reality is that we limit our judgment of what causes an event to that which we either most want to be the cause or most fear to be the cause. For example, a person who is deathly afraid of cancer might interpret every ache and pain as advanced cancer, whereas another person—one who once had cancer—might believe that remission was brought about by chanting the Hare Krishna mantra 1,065 times a day.

Sad to say, a wrong conclusion that is irrationally drawn is less susceptible to being overturned than a wrong conclusion that is rationally drawn. The reason for this is that if you draw a wrong conclusion through rationality, you’re more likely to be open to changing your conclusion through rationality because it is with rationality that your allegiance lies; whereas if you draw a wrong conclusion through an allegiance to that which lacks a rational foundation, how are you to be reached?

"Jizo is a bodhisattva...

...a divine being of infinite grace and compassion who forestalls his own buddhahood in order to help sentient beings to enlightenment. Since the 10th century, he has been portrayed as a young, itinerant monk who carries a pilgrim's staff and a wish-granting jewel. He is popularly believed to assist those condemned to the torments of hell, and the wayward souls of deceased children. This statue shows Jizo descending from the heavens, as suggested by the cloud that supports his lotus pedestal. The exquisite workmanship and extreme elegance of the figure, particularly the serene beauty of the face, are elements associated with the Kei school of sculptors active during the Kamakura period (1185-1336).” –the Minneapolis Institute of Art

As you might recall, my two years in a group marriage in Minneapolis were so hard that I can think of little good to say about them—the Minneapolis Institute of Art, the First Unitarian Society, the Marjorie McNeely Conservatory, and a few friends with whom I’ve lost contact, were about it. This 13^th century wood and lacquer statue is but 26” tall, and I all but ran to it the first time I saw it. Those two years marked the only time in my life that I lived near preternaturally beautiful art from every age and every part of the world, and my only regret is that I wasn’t able to take better advantage of it.

After I put this post online just now, I sat looking at the statue and wondering if anyone would understand how beautiful it is. You might respond that beauty is subjective, and I would agree inasmuch as our species is concerned, but, as I see it, that's the problem. How can any species that considers the concept of beauty to be less than absolute (more real than real) be a terribly worthwhile species. When beauty screams at us so loudly, how can we not hear it? 

How dead people are like cats

Dead people are like cats in that you can free associate with them, and they won’t turn away no matter what you say (although cats are prone to interrupt a full hour before mealtime).

My blog is about as close as I come to free association. Yet, more is always possible, and so I tend to write about the same things.

P.S . The portrait is from 1866 and was made by Julia Cameron of Julia Jackson whose only claims to fame are that she was Virginia Woof's mother and Julia Cameron's favorite photographic subject. 

There's an erotic exoticism of the deepest sort about the past, especially when it's remote enough that all those people, who were once so alive, have long since been consumed by worms. How can I reconcile myself to the beauty that has been lost, even the beauty that no eye ever witnessed?