This Won't Be Fun for Anybody. . .

What Do You Do About a Problem Like . . . Me?

Welcome to the Family. . .

I love being a dad, in spite of the torment involved.

I never thought I would, but there pretty much isn’t a part of the journey I don’t enjoy, or at least, appreciate. (I take that back. I wish it was quieter, but outside of the noise and chaos associated with parenting, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.) I can even have a good time at a kid’s birthday party, which is a lot like New York . . . if you can can make it here, you can make it anywhere. So when I got the chance to attend the family welcome event at my son’s school, I was all in.

I knew there’d be some awkwardness, there always is. I assume most of it comes from me . . . I’m not good in crowds of people I don’t know . . . but not all of it. I think it’s fair to say some of it’s simply the reality of gathering a bunch of people together who don’t know each other. Many of whom are “on their best behavior,” which adds an air of inauthenticity and stiltedness. Having a “goal” in common, in this case the most important of them, our kids, is a blessing and a curse. In the beginning, it’s mostly all blessing. Novelty, common cause, and what have you. The curse comes later when the realities of working with other people in relation to your kid(s) settle in. Like, for instance, realizing you’re gonna have to deal with me.

I got a late start. I operate on a simple timetable, which says if you aren’t 5 minutes early, then you’re ten minutes late. Basically I prefer to be someplace 15 minutes early. I have no problem filling an idle 15 minutes and this is way better than running in all frazzled. I walked into the “Becoming a Berkshire Waldorf Family” with a single minute to spare. Way too close for my comfort, but it was fine. There’d been an issue with the coffee pot and the community effort to remedy it delayed the start by a good 10 minutes. I small talked a few people and met a dad friend. We sat down together.

And then we immediately stood up . . . for the Land Acknowledgement statement.

I Don’t Play Well With Others. . .

That’s not actually true. I am, if anything, respectful. I’ve often found people have far more problems with me than I do with them . . . but given that I’m the common factor, I still sometimes wonder if I’m the problem or if I should take my toys and go home.

Anyway, I stood silently and listened to the declaration as many of those around me recited along. This was a meeting of new and old families, so that made sense. Some of them had been here before. But, I noticed some, presumably the newbies, trying to “hum” along. I assumed they didn’t want to appear “out of step,” or perhaps they genuinely wanted to play along. Me, not so much.

This wasn’t the first time I found myself face to face with an en vogue cultural practice I refuse to participate in. As you may remember, I don’t play the pronoun game. I don’t have any. I don’t think parts of speech are things you can “have.” I also give zero fucks what you think about me, so you can refer to me however you wish. I don’t go out of my way to be an ass and I always try to treat others as I’d like to be treated, as they used to say. So, I’ll call you whatever you want, to the degree I can remember. But, I won’t perform feats of mental gymnastics to honor the request and I won’t grovel if I make a mistake. If you’re looking for a moment of catharsis via a shame spiral on my part, it’s probably best we both just go home and call it a night. Just know I didn’t mean to upset you.

These moments keep coming up though. It’s the world I live in. It just so happens, contrary to what my wife thinks, I’m not a conservative. I’d be way more uncomfortable at a MAGA rally. I’d actually never go to one on purpose and if I showed up by accident, I’d leave . . . I don’t suffer fools. The problem is I don’t really fit in anywhere, but because of the crowds I run in I’m much more likely to encounter a Land Acknowledgement statement than a chant to “BUILD THE WALL!”, or “LOCK HER UP!”

But I have to be honest. I find the Land Acknowledgement statement the strangest of them all.

Prajalpa/Palabras. . .

Let’s be honest, talk is cheap. It’s easy to open your mouth and have words come pouring out. There’s little to no effort required, and no need to follow through. People say shit all the time which isn’t true. It might’ve been true at the time and then their “feelings” changed, or they might’ve been blowing smoke up your ass the whole time. There’s little way of knowing the difference, and the difference makes little difference in the end. But liars know what they’re saying, they’re trying to mislead you after all.

And yeah, that’s a problem. But, what’re you going to do? People are people. You’re not going to change them. Liars are easy to spot. I don’t sweat them. For me, the “parrots” are the problem. That’s what I call the people who say things they don’t actually mean. Of course, what they say has meaning, because words always have meaning. And that meaning matters. It just so happens for whatever reason that what they’re saying isn’t in alignment with what they think, feel, or believe in their hearts and minds which leads to a kind of “meaninglessness” or vacuity.

Now, you won’t find me in the “speech is violence crowd,” but I’m all in on being a reformed “sticks and stones” guy, who realizes despite their low cost, words carry a real, albeit, metaphorical punch. They have weight. And they’re reflections of what’s inside us. So, to say something “meaningless” is strange and potentially dangerous.

At its core I assume “meaninglessness” is about “fitting in.” The need to fit-in has driven people’s behavior for centuries, sometimes for far greater ill than others, but in the past there was at least the appearance of an investment on the part of the participants. This is why I have a hard time believing the standard German denial regarding the Third Reich and their crimes against humanity. In interview after interview, German after German swears they didn’t know, weren’t aware, were merely goose-stepping and “Sieg Heiling” to survive, but their actions tell a different story. These days, when people talk all bets are off as to whether they mean what they say or if they’re simply performing for an audience.

This ambiguity creates instability in the social fabric. If someone is simply reciting lines like an actor on a stage, then you don’t know what’s real and what’s make believe. You’re left constantly wondering if you’re being duped, left staring into a void wondering if there’s anything substantive behind their utterances or it’s just emptiness. This creates a distance between us. Words are a window to the soul. Arguably they’re the closest we can get to the mind of another, and if the person saying them doesn’t mean them . . . then what, or who, the hell are you looking at? And if there’s no way to know, then you’re left confused. That’s hard. It’s stressful and chaotic and not at all dissimilar from what I imagine the internal landscape is for those guilty of this sin. Because if there’s an internal disconnect between one’s words and one’s actual thoughts and beliefs, then there’s a real possibility this incongruence can lead to paranoia, anxiety, and depression.

By way of shorthand, I’ve begun referring to the lack of sincerity, and vacuousness in speech these days as examples of “prajalpa,” or “palabras.” You can take your pick. “Prajalpa” is Sanskrit and literally means “idle chatter,” intended to describe any speech not involving God. I use it in a more secular fashion. The other, of course, is Spanish and means “words.” It doesn’t carry the same connotation, but because they look and sound alike, I use them interchangeably to describe what’s happening when people say things with little to no thought, reflection, intent to follow through, or as in the case above, to simply put on a show for themselves and others.

Well, Then Give it Fucking Back. . .

The Land Acknowledgement statement is prajalpa/pralabras par excellence. It’s a bunch of words strung together, perhaps with good intention, but lacking any real substance. It’s a performative utterance. Nothing more. I suppose it may help to assuage the internalized guilt associated with black and white thinking, but in the end, it’s a waste of time and energy, despite checking the “I know the right things to say (right now).” box. If the people saying them meant them, they could easily solve the problem.

Consider this. Anyone (meaning the institutions crafting them, but also individual land owners . . . because let’s be honest, if someone thinks it’s important enough for their kid’s school to acknowledge their operating on “stolen” land, then all the families living in the vicinity are also on “stolen” land and they could employ the same remedy with their land) could make the issue disappear with a lawyer and a real estate transaction of a single dollar.

If the land is not rightfully theirs, or yours, then it could be given back. All it would take would be to determine the rightful heir to the property, draw up a contract, and sell it back to them. You could even hedge your bets while doing the “right” thing and enshrine a perpetual lease back in the contract so as not to disrupt whatever activity is occurring there. The universities could still universities. The schools could still school. The companies could still company. And the families could still family. But the land would be in the “right” hands, and the aforementioned dispossessed would, at the very least, benefit financially (assuming you agree to continue paying the taxes on the land). Respect is great, but you can do a lot more with money.

This isn’t to throw respect under the bus. It’s a wonderful thing to give and receive. I could use more of it in my life. I wish there was more of it for everyone. But is this what a Land Acknowledgement statement even does? Does it communicate respect? Imagine for a moment you have a nice piece of jewelry. I like it. So, I take it. I’m important so I wear it to the Oscars. On the red carpet the reporters ask me about it. In response, I say, “I want to acknowledge this beautiful sapphire pendent is the rightful property of *insert your name here*. I took it, but I really like it and it goes with my outfit. I could give it back, but I’m not going to. It is, however, really important to me that you know I know it’s not mine.” How do you feel? Respected? Seen? Acknowledged? Probably not. Why not? Because the statement is empty and hollow. It’s essentially meaningless. It’s idle chatter. Pralabras, pralabras, pralabras.

The issues with the Land Acknowledgement statement don’t end here. There are a number of other problems. A big one would be how we decide “whose” land it is, or whose it “should” be. In my experience (which is limited), Land Acknowledgement statements begin with the arrival of Europeans. That is, the acknowledgements acknowledge the Native people who occupied the land when the Whites took it. In America, this covers a period of 200 years or so, and says the people of this period are the “rightful” inhabitants. But why stop there? What about before this time? North America has been inhabited for 20,000 to 30,000 thousand years. That’s a lot of people who’ve lived on the land. Practically speaking, it’d be impossible to go all the way back to the beginning, but why not 100, 200, or 500 years earlier? Where do we draw the line? And why?

And then we should probably ask how whoever we’ve decided to give it to came into possession of it. Were the circumstances of any “transition” of “ownership” “unfair,” “unjust?” Do the “acquisitions” and “distributions” of the land previous to the 100 or 200 years before the Europeans “stole” it from the Natives need to meet the same moral standing, and if they don’t does this need to be factored into our decision about to whom it “belongs?” The sheer number of quotations in this paragraph should tell you something. There are a lot of questions, concepts, and assumptions floating around, doing a lot of theoretical heavy lifting. It seems peculiar there’d be so much baggage associated with something billed as a simple honorific.

Finally, so as not to beat a dead horse, I’ll get to the point. I think what becomes apparent is that Land Acknowledgement statements are predicated on an unarticulated and unacknowledged characterization of Native peoples as “nature” and the European settlers/colonialists/oppressors as “culture.” The “nature/culture” dichotomy is what all the cool kids obsessed over back in my day. Long before “oppressor/oppressed” took center stage, this was the value dualism du jour. It never got resolved and probably never will. And if you ask me, the current “rebranding” hasn’t done much to further the discussion. Quite the opposite in fact.

I’d maintain the inherent problem with all dualistic thinking isn’t necessarily the elevation of one over the other, but with the formulation itself. Life is complicated. Things aren’t simple, clear cut, or definitive. There’s nothing wrong with having discussions within the context of dualistic thinking, but the solution won’t be found there, that will only be possible when we decide to move beyond “us vs. them” thinking. The reality is we’re all living on someone else’s land, and this assumes that land is a thing one can even “own.” If we’re intent upon honoring the past, where we’ve come from, and who was here before us, then we should find a way to do so for our full histories and not pick some arbitrary point in time predicated on an atavistic and reified concept of Native people as set apart from culture.

The Utter Lack of Originality. . .

Needless to say, I failed to follow along during the meeting. I was too busy thinking about all the things. In my defense, the meeting went a little off the rails fairly early, so there wasn’t much to miss.

It did occur to me as I sat there ruminating, that the Land Acknowledgement statement wasn’t the thing which really bothered me. Sure, I find it strange and based on some pretty shaky philosophical foundations, but f people think it’s important and want to participate in it, I don’t care. The world will continue to spin and I’m happy to work and play with them. But will they feel the same way about me?

Communities are tricky. They’re tricky because they’re made up of people and people are complicated. I love the idea of community. I love it because one of my superpowers is letting others be whoever they want to be. I most likely have an opinion or two, but if you don’t ask me I’m not going to bother you with it. I’m too busy trying to keep my shit together to worry too much about what you’re doing, unless of course it impacts me. But I’ve found this can lead to some animosity because I expect the same thing in return. And I don’t always get it. In fact, more often than not I don’t. So despite all the talk I hear about the ideals of community, about blending the individual and the group, taking advantage of each unique snowflake’s gifts, and what have you, the reality often comes up short.

And I get it. Nobody likes the gadfly. But I’m more than this. In fact, I’ve got a lot to offer. If you ever find yourself in an emergency, you’ll want me around. I’m calm, cool, and collected under fire. I’m an excellent listener. You won’t find me looking at my phone or drifting off into outer space if you need an ear. I have a talent for being able to see both sides of any issue and can work to translate what’s at stake for either side. But I can’t deny this patently annoying tendency, which borders on a compulsion, to question the status quo. And this why the Greeks killed Socrates, so that doesn’t bode so well for me in today’s world.

And I can hear it now. “For God’s sake, what does it matter? Why can’t you just go along with it?” If you have to ask, I doubt you’ll find my explanation helpful. And trust me, I’ve been trying to answer some version of this question since at least the fifth grade. I’ve yet to convince anyone. Given this failure rate, I’d say I was the one to blame, I’m not. You either get it or you don’t. I imagine I’ll soon hear an updated version which goes something like, “Just shut up for your kid’s sake!”

I’ll admit, the “for your kid’s sake” gives me pause. It’s compelling for a number of reasons, but mostly because it hits at the core. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him. And I most certainly don’t ever want to hurt him. So, if there was one thing capable of getting me to hold my tongue, it’d be him. But, it’d have to be a unique set of circumstances, even taking him into consideration, for me to change my behavior.

I will say this discussion is mostly theoretical since there’s little to no chance I’ll feel sufficiently aggrieved by my son’s school’s Land Acknowledgement statement to raise a fuss. But what if I was confronted or had my hand forced? “Hey, I noticed you don’t ever say. . .”, or “So and So felt uncomfortable because you didn’t. . .”. Well, then the gloves are off. I would answer honestly. I would offer my perspective, my thought process, my opinion. I wouldn’t try to change anyone’s mind, but I would explain mine. Because, this is who I am, and if I’m honest, it’s who I hope my son will be. Kids might not listen to what you say, but they never fail to see what you do.

Surprise, Surprise, Surprise (A La Gomer Pile). . .

It’s true. I have a lot of thoughts and opinions. I wouldn’t characterize most of them as popular. But they’re mine and I’d like to imagine there’s a community somewhere that would welcome them, or at the very least, allow space for them. Is Berkshire Waldorf that place?

I was telling my therapist the other day how I’m constantly surprised at how people treat each other these days. I know this is going to make me sound old, but it’s true. Things used to be better. People were kinder, or at least more tolerant. They got along with, or at least tolerated, people with whom they didn’t agree. Things weren’t so polarized, so tribal. People weren’t lost in their own little worlds to the exclusion of others. But that’s all changed. People are more narcissistic, crueler, more exclusionary, and just less willing to open themselves up to a different experience or different perspective. It’s as though we’re so inundated, overwhelmed, and under siege that every difference of opinion, even with our closest “loved ones,” escalates into something much bigger and uglier than necessary. It’s got us all walking on eggshells which doesn’t bode well for building or maintaining a community, at least not one that’s more than an Instagram fantasy.

He looked at me and suggested my shock would wear off and that I wouldn’t be as surprised over time. This caught me off guard. I didn’t like that idea at all. And I told him, “I hope you’re wrong. I hope I never get to the point where I’m not surprised.” Because for me, the surprise means I still have hope. It means I still have faith that no matter how mean, or cruel, or unfair, or hypocritical, or untrustworthy, or selfish, or shortsighted, or whatever the adjective someone is, that they (whoever “they” are and whatever our relationship) aren’t their poor behavior. It means I still have hope they could, and just might, be and do better in the future. I know that’s what I hope for myself. So, I’m “happy” to be surprised. I’m “happy” to suffer the shock and disappointment because it means I’ve not lost hope. I’ve not fallen victim to full blown cynicism or despair. My surprise means my bluebird’s still singing.

So, I don’t know if my experience with the Berkshire Waldorf community will be different or better, but I’ll be surprised if it isn’t.