I read a gentleman's blog today. He's a doctor and practicing Buddhist. A very thoughtful guy who posts about once a week on various topics, but often having a thread of ways to find agreement, or peace in your life in a world with not enough of it. I usually like what he says and even have found comfort in a some specific things he's offered.
But yesterday's post was about how to create peace in a world seemingly driven by war. It's a common topic and his suggestion was a typical one I've found irritating whenever I've heard it. Basically it's: work on making yourself happy (or "at peace") and hope that your happiness positively impacts people around you. That's the best anyone can do.
My problem is that this is exactly what's already going on in the U.S. today—and why those in power are able to get away with all that they are. They put in enough measures and laws for the masses to grab hold of to feel they have their own hand in deciding how or whether to be "happy" or not. Then those in power use that complacency to pass or subvert other laws to get to their version of happiness. Most people's ideas of happiness are set from a young age. And they are more than happy to allow you to find your own happiness, as long as they can continue to pursue theirs—which is the amassing of money and power. All fine and dandy, except their version of happiness seems to always need to infringe mightily on many other people's happiness. And with globalization, those in power can actually choose which group of people to affect in pursuing their "happiness", keeping the wool neatly pulled over the eyes of their neighbors, or constituents, as the case is.
I've long been a bit envious of people who can turn away from guiding change in others simply by "deciding" to be happy themselves and hoping it will catch on. But unfortunately, I've seen too much what I would call "cultural momentum manipulation" in the world to let my life's years pass without trying to really create change in the world—beyond smiling at passersby.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
I've been violated! (finally)
The other day I embarked on the dreaded 10-hour bus ride from Quito to Cuenca. Here's the foreshadowing: Everywhere you look, and everyone you speak with will tell you to be careful because it is fairly common to have someone try to cut into your backpack and steal whatever they can.
Despite my extreme paranoia that generally keeps me safer than most (thank you New York!), a young guy tried to steal my camera during the ride. He was in the seat in front of me, after moving around a bit because I kept shifting my bags. I was being extra vigilent. But the guy climbed under his seat from in front of me, and reached all the way back and cut through the bottom of my bag, which was between my legs and only barely extending under his seat. I was certain no one from the front or the back could reach my bag, yet about an hour into the ride, I felt the almost anticipated slight shuffle at my feet and stood up and saw the guy crouched under his seat looking up at me. I shouted very loudly and he had quite a look of fear in his eyes. I kept shouting so everyone on the bus could hear very clearly, and when I looked, everyone was standing and looking over, putting the ball in my court. While holding him by the scruff of his t-shirt collar, I checked my bag and saw the camera body and the smaller lens missing so I demanded them and other passengers pulled them off the floor and offered them to me. Clearly my spanish lessons have not taken hold because the only word I could conjure was mas! when telling him to turn over the other pieces of my equipment. I shook him around a bit and made the bus stop and had him and his female partner kicked off the bus I-don't-know-where.
So in the end I lost two Nikon camera batteries ($30 each) and 5 rechargeable AAs. But you know what I'm most mad about?—and I'm really struggling with this— is that I didn't pummel him bloody. Keep in mind I am a guy, and I was raised in New York, where people start swinging at the slightest cross look from a stranger. Although I was aggressively shoving him around and shouting curses in my most aggressive voice, my only leftover emotion is disappointment in myself for not just totally beating him senseless—as he well deserved by any standard. Ok, any "guy" standard. Ok, ok, any "guy raised in NY" standard. I'm learning, through a few good testing opportunities throughout the years, that my aggressiveness only goes so far. I'm a little afraid of actually punching someone and although it sounds weird, even to myself, it bothers me. Not because it's good to punch people, because it's really not, but because if you're going to stand up for yourself in ways that genuinely keep you safe, you need to know you have the goods to back it up—hopefully never needing to use them. I dunno, that's my theory anyway.
So I haven't been kidnapped so things are good, although I think that's more of Mexico thing. (And wouldn't that suck: "Your family pays a ransom of 8 million or we kill you!" - Um, Sorry.. my family has about $250.76, will that do?)
But after being her for two days, I will say that I really like Cuanca. It's very colonial—every single street is cobble stone— but culturally urban at the same time. I actually watched an old gentleman impatiently tap his keys on the counter for service in a restuarant. To me, that's a good thing and something I would NEVER have expected to see anywhere in Central or South America. The people seem friendly, educated and relatively aware that it's 2009. I could stay here for a little while..
Despite my extreme paranoia that generally keeps me safer than most (thank you New York!), a young guy tried to steal my camera during the ride. He was in the seat in front of me, after moving around a bit because I kept shifting my bags. I was being extra vigilent. But the guy climbed under his seat from in front of me, and reached all the way back and cut through the bottom of my bag, which was between my legs and only barely extending under his seat. I was certain no one from the front or the back could reach my bag, yet about an hour into the ride, I felt the almost anticipated slight shuffle at my feet and stood up and saw the guy crouched under his seat looking up at me. I shouted very loudly and he had quite a look of fear in his eyes. I kept shouting so everyone on the bus could hear very clearly, and when I looked, everyone was standing and looking over, putting the ball in my court. While holding him by the scruff of his t-shirt collar, I checked my bag and saw the camera body and the smaller lens missing so I demanded them and other passengers pulled them off the floor and offered them to me. Clearly my spanish lessons have not taken hold because the only word I could conjure was mas! when telling him to turn over the other pieces of my equipment. I shook him around a bit and made the bus stop and had him and his female partner kicked off the bus I-don't-know-where.
So in the end I lost two Nikon camera batteries ($30 each) and 5 rechargeable AAs. But you know what I'm most mad about?—and I'm really struggling with this— is that I didn't pummel him bloody. Keep in mind I am a guy, and I was raised in New York, where people start swinging at the slightest cross look from a stranger. Although I was aggressively shoving him around and shouting curses in my most aggressive voice, my only leftover emotion is disappointment in myself for not just totally beating him senseless—as he well deserved by any standard. Ok, any "guy" standard. Ok, ok, any "guy raised in NY" standard. I'm learning, through a few good testing opportunities throughout the years, that my aggressiveness only goes so far. I'm a little afraid of actually punching someone and although it sounds weird, even to myself, it bothers me. Not because it's good to punch people, because it's really not, but because if you're going to stand up for yourself in ways that genuinely keep you safe, you need to know you have the goods to back it up—hopefully never needing to use them. I dunno, that's my theory anyway.
So I haven't been kidnapped so things are good, although I think that's more of Mexico thing. (And wouldn't that suck: "Your family pays a ransom of 8 million or we kill you!" - Um, Sorry.. my family has about $250.76, will that do?)
But after being her for two days, I will say that I really like Cuanca. It's very colonial—every single street is cobble stone— but culturally urban at the same time. I actually watched an old gentleman impatiently tap his keys on the counter for service in a restuarant. To me, that's a good thing and something I would NEVER have expected to see anywhere in Central or South America. The people seem friendly, educated and relatively aware that it's 2009. I could stay here for a little while..
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