Nowhere Man

I like Facebook. I was in early, and I’m on a good amount, but lately I find myself dreading even logging in. Political rancor, mindless repostings of unverified quotes plastered over the photo of a famous so-and-so, and shared links to things I don’t care a lot about have driven me to risk not finding out about your dog dying/daughter’s graduation/photo of your dinner.

It got me to thinking, and the thinking got me absolutely nowhere, and I love it.

Let’s straighten a few things out:

·      I admire people who have opinions.

·      I enjoy debate that occurs in a positive, constructive manner.

·      This post is not really about Facebook or politics.

·      [spoiler alert:] We are all always nowhere.

I have a friend in LA who is by no means a stupid man who remains 100% convinced that 9/11 was a Bush manipulated plot to start a war, drive up oil prices and make the Bush family billions of dollars in profits. And you know what? I cannot prove him wrong.

Then I had a little epiphany one day, in response to a posting from him, an epiphany that led me to think: What if you are right? Does it impact my day? Or my life? Does it change my opportunities to be a good father to my children or a responsible participant in my society? And now this thought process has come to me again, a tattered and bloodied victim of the thoughts, opinions, and ramblings of a myriad of people who seem to care and who, in their caring, drag us all into a garbage-filled gutter where the broken are left to die.

It goes like this:

            Facebook => Crap Feed => Disgust => Revelation => Freedom

The flow of these random streams of rancor lead me sometimes to insight and sometimes to disgust. So many people, so many opinions, so much energy being put into arguing the rights and wrongs. My brain freefalls – things used to be this way (or that way), it used to be worse (or better), it has never been this bad, the country is falling apart (or maybe no – maybe this is what makes the country great). It’s endless AM radio static in my brain, and it’s horrifying.

Then, I return to my conversation with said 9/11 conspiracy theory friend, and I remember: it doesn’t really have to matter.

He thought that the World Trade Center event was a hoax, and he was angry at me for not believing him. And whether he was right or wrong didn’t matter, because I have chosen to live my life in the now and the now does not require of me to know the answer to his questions. All the now asks of me is compassion and awareness.

I, today, still get worked up over politics. I get worked up over xenophobia, homophobia, and allodoxaphobia. Even over the very concept of “nations.” Sometimes I get scared that we’re messing it all up. Then the revelation hits – again – and the shackles of my fear fall like dirt to the ground.

It just doesn’t have to matter. Today – today alone! – I will be presented with more opportunities to do good and to be good than I am capable of seeing. Stephen Batchelor teaches us a particular Buddhist meditation that I use often: "Since death alone is certain and the time of death uncertain, what should I do?"

Not very often is my answer: “Worry.” So this debate leaves me exactly, happily nowhere.

T'ai Chi

I spent the day in Annapolis yesterday, with my father and a friend -- my father because I invited him to spend some unstructured down time with me this week, and my friend because he needed an escape from his apartment.

After lunch we sat on a bench by the water and smoked some good cigars, talking about boats and life and watching the world go by. A man, white and maybe in his late-30s, did t'ai chi in the sunlight near the edge of the park, methodically and purposefully. Two younger black boys, one thin and one heavier set, both maybe 13 or 14 or so, were doing skateboard tricks up and down the curbs nearby. Tourists streamed through, as they do, chatting and taking photographs.

Then the most amazing thing happened.

The boys were staring at the man and they started to mock his practice. He saw them, it was clear, but he continued through until he reached a stopping point a good while later. I looked away for a moment to my boats and my cohorts, and when I glanced back I saw him demonstrating a basic move to the thin boy, who was facing him, mirroring what he was doing, trying, clearly, to understand it. Skateboard down, lying on the ground, a relic from a moment just gone by when mocking was king and t'ai chi was freaky. Hands up. Hands down. Up as we fill the lungs. Exhale and dooowwn.

"No, no, no! Like this!" his heavier-set friend said. A second skateboard fell to the curb, and in that moment the three of them were there, strangers so oddly brought together, doing t'ai chi in the sunshine in a park by the water in Annapolis, straight out of nowhere.

How many such moments take place in the world in the course of a day? Am I left to lament the fact that it isn't more or to celebrate that I experienced this one -- perhaps so small and so large all at the same time?