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Friday, June 8, 2012

My Graduation Speech


What I would tell the graduates this year: Fellow mortals and sensitive bipeds out there, grappling with the pains of existence and the current lousy job market, I come with more words of advice for you which may at first glance seem overly sober and gloomy... please don't blame me, though, I'm just the messenger here. This isn't much - I know - but it's all I have on the spur of the moment (I'm not getting paid for this) and besides, it's a topic that I predict you'll keep coming back to in the days ahead: Whatever else you take away from this special moment, please remember as you go forth, today, mindful of various blessings and advantages you have received along the way,  and looking to the future with starry-eyed hopes, that attached to every one of us is some unwanted and unasked-for circumstance, some dreaded fateful condition, an obstacle, a hindrance, an albatross, a curse, a blight, a wretched hassle, a wound, a hurt - something that we're stuck with for the long haul, something that gets in our way, makes us upset, keeps us vulnerable, adds to our insecurity, gives us reason to feel cheated, to feel handicapped, goes against our most cherished agendas of survival, success and prosperity in life. It might just be an obvious physical blemish, a mental quirk, a flaw in temperament, a cognitive deficit in some obscure area,  a personality glitch (shyness, anyone?), a traumatic memory, a shift in fortune, a bad year, a lost decade, a troubled sibling or problematic parent, an extended dysfunctional family or inauspicious cultural climate (feeling like we were born in the wrong decade or century). We carry IT around with us and IT marks us for life; IT grates upon our nerves because IT's like some alien presence, an unexpected guest, an unwanted care-package, this random prosthetic to our otherwise normal physique, this fly in our daily soup that continuously spoils the feast - bringing us back to the lingering question of how things might have been - if only we had not been strapped with ITAnd the problem in a nutshell is very simple - what to do about "the gift that we didn't ask for" - to view the pink elephant in the room as some weird, unexpected blessing-in-disguise from the great beyond or to use it as our ongoing Exhibit A of "more sinned against than sinning." How many of us carry around this familiar rock, for years and years, never knowing quite what to do with it, where to put it, how to hide it, what to make of it, until IT drags us down several notches from where we expected to be; or else we run from it, pursuing alternative paths down which such afflictions cannot follow us, generating as we go oodles of new commotion and chaos around ourselves designed to overshadow the problem, to deny that it's really there. So much of life is taken up with responding (somewhat negatively, I must add) to the dark cloud in the sky,  rebelling against what we didn't #$@%#^ choose and never in a million years would have requested voluntarily. But there you have it. Even at this very late date in human history, when it seems that we (modern liberated types) should have finally gotten every last one of our wishes met, given how the weight of nature, tradition and large institutions has been lifted from our backs somewhat, even now in the year 2012, how absurdly difficult it remains to do away with these sources of discontent, troubles that we can't walk away from and which have the effect of forcing us to stop, to pause, to question, turning inward upon ourselves, inquiring as to what kind of creatures we really are (aside from all the hype and self-promotion), what strange entities capable of intense frustration, regret and self-conscious misery. And so graduates, I end my little jeremiad by telling you in advance that, although there is no solution to this awful package, and that even pharmaceuticals, sensuality and rock-and-roll can't reverse the trend, nevertheless, the good news is, if there is any, that what seems like the biggest downer - the source of isolation, frustration, alienation, angst, sadness, resignation, despair and whatever else we go to the doctor to complain about, is for some lucky mortals out there, also a source of the most sublime healing power. Who knows how and who knows why, but  there are actually some people out there who know how to transform their hurt to advantage, their weakness to strength, their pain to motivation; these are the cherished few among us who keep us afloat during tough times,  keep us inspired by their example - not  from ease but from hardship. How strange it is, how paradoxical to consider that we admire most those whose lives we ourselves would never wish for. Pleasure seekers come and go; life on Easy Street gets old. But people with soul, with gravitas, endure forever.  So when you bump into one of these enlightened ones during your journey, be sure to ask them what their secret is - how they turned lead into gold - knowing that they share the same wounds as you - different in form and content surely - but the similar as to genus - that of the unasked-for gift.

My Name is Hope...



Aside from the catchy titles, I have to admit: I'm drawn to books like these - written from a "faith perspective" in both cases - yet seriously grappling with all the messy irregularities of human experience  -  afflictions that weigh us down and leave us befuddled, exhausted, embittered. All your favorites here: pain, fear, death, separation, loss, grief, cruelty, neglect, abandonment, betrayal, alienation, anxiety, depression... Where is God in all of this? We can't stop ourselves from asking that question....Or at least, I can't.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins


I highly recommend this novel as a great "summer read." I began by thinking of it strictly as a plot-driven "who done it" about a lost diamond (complete with detectives, quick sand, thieves, opium users, etc.) - the narrative of which is told, re-told and sometimes re-constructed and re-directed by various interlocutors. But it is these shifting narrators, these eccentric and memorable voices whose personas have a way of resonating throughout the entire book. I refer of course to the inimitable: Gabriel Betteredge (the dutiful butler), Franklin Blake (the endearing chap and suitor), Sergeant Cuff (the logical, methodical detective),  Miss Drusilla Clack (the prim, pious and hilariously obtuse relative), Matthew Bruff (the no-nonsense lawyer),  Ezra Jennings (the hapless fellow with a far-fetched remedy), Doctor Candy (the forgetful one), Rosanna Spearman (the doomed servant), Limping Lucy (the woe-begotten misfit ) and last but not least, Rachel Verinder (the refreshingly self-assertive young lady).

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Edmund Burke - Prose Stylist



"When all the frauds, impostures, violences, rapines, burnings, murders, confiscations, compulsory paper currencies, and every description of tyranny and cruelty employed to bring about and to uphold this Revolution, have their natural effect, that is, to shock the moral sentiments of all virtuous and sober minds, the abettors of this philosophic system immediately strain their throats in a declamation against the old monarchical government of France. When they have rendered that deposed power sufficiently black, they then proceed in argument, as if all those who disapprove of their new abuses must of course be partisans of the old; that those who reprobate their crude and violent schemes of liberty ought do be treated as advocates for servitude. I admit that their necessities to compel them to this base and contemptible fraud. Nothing can reconcile men to their proceedings and projects, but the supposition that there is no third option between them and some tyranny as odious as can be furnished by the records of history, or by the invention of poets. This prattling of theirs hardly deserves the name of sophistry. It is nothing but plain impudence. Have these gentlemen never heard, in the whole circle of the worlds of theory and practice, of anything between the despotism the monarch and the despotism of the multitude? Have they never heard of a monarchy directed by laws, controlled and balanced by the great hereditary wealth and hereditary dignity of a nation; and both again controlled by a judicious check from the reason and feeling of the people at large, acting by a suitable and permanent organ? Is it then impossible that a man may be found, who, without criminal ill intention, or pitiable absurdity, shall prefer such a mixed and tempered government to either of the extremes; and who may repute that nation to be destitute of all wisdom and of all virtue, which, having in its choice to obtain such a government with ease, or rather to confirm it when actually possessed, thought proper to commit a thousand crimes, and to subject their country to a thousand evils, in order to avoid it? Is it then a truth so universally acknowledged, that a pure democracy is the only tolerable form into which human society can be thrown, that a man is not permitted to hesitate about its merits, without the suspicion of being a friend to tyranny, that is, of being a foe to mankind?" - from Reflections on the Revolution in France