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What Did D Do?...

The other week I dropped P off at his hippie school.

I love doing this for a number of reasons. I’m greedy when it comes to time with him. I’m a firm believer that there’s no “junk time.” Any time I get to spend with him I take. Sometimes he doesn’t say a single word to me the entire drive. I always make sure I tell him that I love him and that I’m proud of him at least once, regardless. Sometimes I can’t shut him up. The shit he says is crazy. I don’t know where it comes from. Recently, he’s wanted to play “I Spy.” I absolutely love this game. I used to play it when I fought wildfires for a living. The answer then always had to be “tree,” which might sound repetitive, but just like a bad joke starts off funny, becomes annoying, and then comes back around funny again (as in “That’s what she said...”), this opened a world of unforeseen possibilities. When P and I play, it’s not much harder than screaming “TREE!” at the top of your lungs, but that’s not the point.

I can also get frustrated, annoyed, and sometimes even bored, when I’m with him. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. I’m not trying to sell myself as “Father of the Year.” Sometimes I feel these things at the very same time that I’m soaking it all in. It can create a complicated internal mish mash of pure, unadulterated love and discontent, captured perfectly by something I heard once, “Never have I loved someone so much, and wanted them to go to bed at the same time.” Light and dark. “Both/and,” as I like to say. More on this in a minute.

I also like it because sometimes this is the most social interaction I have during a day. I see the same faces day after day of the parents. Some of them I know. Some of them I struggle to remember their names. But, we all wave and smile for the most part. Everyone is on the happy side. It’s not always clear if it’s because they’re with their kid, or dropping the kid off. Again, I get this. Either way, it’s kind of sweet and heartwarming. I think all the hand holding has something to do with it too.

Anyway, on the day in question, I pulled in next to A’s dad’s car. His name is D and he owns a Tesla. So does A’s mom. His is black. Hers is red. When I parked I noticed D’s car had a sticker on the front quarter panel (that’s the part between the hood and the wheel well), which seemed strange. I was distracted getting P his “Ruffy Roo-Roo” treat (that’s another story), so I didn’t pay much attention. I delivered P to his teacher, got a hug and kiss (from P, not the teacher), and sent him off to “rice day” (it’s one of his favorites, although it’s a toss up between rice day and bread day...he does not like soup, or apple day...actually he likes the apples, but not the oats). I walked back out to my car and D’s car was still there. As I opened my door, I glanced over to check out the sticker. It was one of those “Hi! My name is...” name tags, and in the blank was scrawled the word “NAZI!”

Serious buzz-kill, I thought. And then, I started thinking about D. What a fucking bummer it must’ve been for him. I don’t know him particularly well, but he seems like a nice enough guy. I’m confident he doesn’t harbor Nazi inclinations. A’s mom is Muslim. Of course, I immediately knew this tag had nothing to do with D personally. The person who put it there was probably less familiar with D than I am. Whoever did this was trying to make a statement. I just couldn’t get past how unfortunate it was that D’s vehicle had to be the vehicle.

Here was a guy who probably thought he was doing something good for the environment when he bought his Tesla. D’s not a flashy guy. He’s got strong middle aged dad vibes. Now he’s got to take the time, and spend the energy, to scrape this sticker off his car, but before he can get to it (because he’s a dad, with a job, and a life), he’s got to drive around town, and drop his kid off at the hippie school advertising for an extinct political party. And for what? All because some left-leaning liberal wanted to #resist, and make a neutered and ineffectual statement of protest against Elon, who with 100% certainty will never know, and if he did, would give less than zero fucks? That’s my read. I could be wrong, of course. Because here’s the thing, I’ve been “that guy.”

Been There, Done That, Probably Still Doing It...

I was militant growing up. Not the most militant person I knew, not by a long shot. The crowd I ran with had a strong moralism running through it, and I don’t know if you’re the average of five people or not, but who you hang out with makes a difference. Social media bubbles anyone? I’m so glad we didn’t have it when I was growing up. The straight-edge vegan hardcore scene struggled to find moderation without it.

I sided with the militants when it came to drinking and drugs. No one in my immediate family drank, but my grandfather was an alcoholic, so I grew up thinking poorly of those who indulged their sickness with the drink. I was definitely involved in more than one fracas with someone over their consumption of alcohol. This was an inevitable product of the fact that most hardcore shows were held in bars (still trying to wrap my head around that one). I was also known to spit on, or key, cars parked at bars. So, yeah, I’m pretty familiar with over the top, somewhat aggressive acts of vandalism and violence. I was young, sure, but I was, and still am, just as flawed as the next guy.

I was less militant when it came to the animal rights side of the equation. While I was, at the very least, a vegetarian for most of my time in the scene, I’d occasionally dabble in some veganism. And, yes, I know the old saying, “If you’re not now, you never were.” I used to care, but even back then the idea seemed simplistic and foolish. Now, I simply don’t care. But, I acted out here a bit too. I spray painted some things, and even glued a few locks. Mostly so I could claim membership in the ALF (Animal Liberation Front), which in retrospect was a weird thing to do. What’s the point of doing covert acts of vandalism to join an organization that has no official structure, no official membership, and that you can never acknowledge you’re a part of? More youthful indiscretion and idealism, with a side of shadow thrown in for good measure.

This is Me, This is You...

It’s easy for me to climb atop my high horse and look down upon, or poo-poo, or roll my eyes, or judge, or lament, or even get angry, or indignant about the douchebag who slapped a Nazi name tag on D’s car. I’m old. I’m a little bit wiser. I’ve spent years honing my sense of righteousness. But, I was him, and probably still am to some people in some circles, despite the fact that I don’t see it myself.

Richard Rohr has a new book out, The Tears of Things. It’s about looking to the Jewish prophets in order to learn how to live our lives in the current age of outrage. I can’t think of a more timely topic. I’m not going to go into too much detail here, you should pick up a copy, but the crux of the issue is learning to see ourselves as “with” rather than “above.”

Rohr argues that for the most part we live our lives in “judgement of” rather than “solidarity with.” We do this because it makes us feel good. It allows our egos to sleep at night, and us along with them. Our rage protects our sense of purity. We righteously think, “I’m above this. I’ve figured it out, so I can get angry and remain pure.” In fact, Rohr points out, it’s our anger which grants us our purity. It’s twisted “virtue signaling.” The ideologue who slapped the sticker on D’s car most certainly felt a sense of superiority. He was sure that the “evil” was over there, in that car, and that what he was doing was simply making that manifest. But, we’re all in this together. We’re all suffering the same wounded humanity, if we allow ourselves to see it.

I had a hippie girlfriend years ago and she would take me to these group therapy dance performance things. They were fine. Some people were really into them. I got stuff out of them, and in general agreed with the message, but the methods left a lot to be desired. There was this one really cool exercise though, where you’d stand in front of another person, look each other in the eyes, hold your hand over your heart, and repeat in unison, “This is me. This is you.” Over and over again. When you said the “me” part, your hand was over your heart. When you said the “you” part, you moved your hand in a sweeping gesture (remember I said these people were dancers) towards your partner’s heart. You could get into this beautiful rhythm, going back and forth, and if you did it long enough, and surrendered a little bit to the process you’d be transported to this magical place where the two of you blended into each other. You could sense your intertwinement and connection. Seeing yourself in the other and the other in you. Effectively breaking down the boundaries which allow for us to think of ourselves as “over and above” the other. But, still leaving you in you, with the other though. In the same shit. Dealing with the same shit. Doing the same shit.

Personality vs. Anti-Personality, A Cult By Any Other Name...

The “cult of personality” which exists around influential and powerful political and technological figures is undeniable. I don’t feel a need to spell this out. Trump and Elon have their minions. But, Bernie and AOC have got their’s too. I mean, sure, okay, if hanging on every word and action of an equally flawed human is how you want to spend your days, go for it. I think it’s stupid, but I do stupid shit all the time.

What I can’t wrap my mind around is how inclusion in one cult comes with a complimentary membership in the “anti-cult.” If you’re for Trump, then you’re against AOC. If you’re for Bernie, then you’re against Elon. And, the totality of the immersion blows my mind. God forbid I think the person I’ve placed myself in opposition to has a good idea, or does something valuable (even if it’s by mistake). We walk around with blinders on, rejecting or accepting on “who” rather than “what.” Which, as it turns out, is a huge bummer, because as I often say, “The sun shines on a dog’s ass some days.”

Take Elon for example...please! (See bad jokes get funnier if you just keep telling them.) He’s a fucking idiot. He lacks all sorts of social skills. He doesn’t appear to treat his kids, or the mothers of his children well. And, yet he still finds people willing to sleep with him (something that as less of an asshole, but still a bit of a nerd, I find inspiring). I wouldn’t invite him over for dinner. And I wouldn’t be his friend if he paid me. I would cry an ocean of tears if my son ended up having the tiniest fraction of his personality flaws and foibles. But...he’s pretty fucking smart. He’s done some incredible things. He’s started a ton of really successful businesses which all the people who hate him used, or are using. No, he didn’t invent Tesla’s batteries. No, he didn’t design the SpaceX rocket. But tell me, would either of those things exist without him? Probably not. And, tell me honestly, what good comes from hating everything that he’s associated with? Why do Tesla’s suck now just because their CEO is a ketamine addict razing the government to the ground? The stock holders who loved him for doing this in one place sure seem to feel differently about it now. Weird.

I saw a tweet about this new battery technology for electrical vehicles, which makes it possible to fully charge a car in under five minutes. This has long been considered one of the major stumbling blocks preventing EVs from going more mainstream. I can’t help but wonder if Elon’s brand wasn’t so in the toilet, if this would’ve been a bigger news story. Look, it’s like this, all the liberals and lefties used to be all for Elon, but then he pulled a switcharoo on them and now they hate him and everything he’s done. And, again, think what you want about the man, but for the love of God, your children, the environment, and your mental health separate the wheat from the chafe. Focus less on the person and more on the ideas, or you could try doing both for a change.

“Either/Or” and “Both/And” Make Three...

At the end of the day, all of our problems have at their core a simplistic “either/or” mentality. Winners/losers. Right/wrong. Good/bad. Republican/democrat. Conservative/liberal. Me/you. Light/dark. Inside/outside. Us/them. Men/women. Straight/gay. God/devil. Yang/yin. Yada/yada.

I spent some years practicing bhakti yoga. I was what you’d call a “Hare Krsna.” Again, a story for another time, but one of the truly remarkable and revolutionary ideas contained within that philosophy is the idea of “Acintya-bhedabheda-tattva.” In a nutshell, this is the idea that you, and by “you” I mean essentially all of reality, and God (or whatever you want to call the big Other) are simultaneously one and different. This is way more revolutionary than it may first appear. It’s basically saying the nondualists, those who think there’s no difference, that everything is one, that “It’s all God, baby,” have got it wrong, partially. It’s also saying that the dualists, those who think the two shall never meet, that matter and spirit are irrevocably different stuff, that if there’s a God you might get to go to heaven when you die if you’re good, have also got it wrong, partially. Turns out, according to this philosophy, it’s both, and (as in “both/and”) a third to boot.

It’s all one. God (or whatever).

You are a part of the one. God/you (the devotees would hate this formulation by the way, but that’s fine).

But you are also different than the one. So, you. Inconceivable oneness and difference simultaneously.

So, when we’re looking at anything, it’s “Both/And.” It’s this. It’s that. They’re both still there. You can have your “Either” and your “Or.” You need them. You can’t have “Both/And” without them. Don’t get rid of them. They’re just not the complete picture. There are going to be times when “Either” makes more sense than “Or,” and times when “Or” makes more sense then “Either.” But, at the end of the day, the closer you come to see the “Both/And” of the “Either/Or” the closer you get to reality.

And, just to bring all that back down to Earth. Being able to see the stupid shit people do in the stupid shit you do and vice versa, the better off you’ll be, the better off we’ll all be. It’ll eliminate so much division, so much animosity, so much hatred of “them” over there from your life. You may have to sacrifice some of the anger that fuels your righteous indignation, and this may leave your ego wondering what the hell it’s suppose to do with all its free time. But, that’s okay. The one thing I’m certain of, is that to the degree you embrace this way of looking at the world, the far less likely you are to use that time engaged in doing something stupid in the future.