The Great Adventure: Episode 2

I hate needles.

Don't get me wrong -- I don't faint when I get injections. It isn't even a question of pain. In most cases, the sensation of a needle piercing skin is no more annoying than a pinch or an insect bite, just like the nurses always say it will be. It's just that I do not like the concept of anything breaching the outer dermal wall of defences that protect my innards. That's why I cannot watch horror movies that involve blades.

All of which brings a delightful irony to my decision to do volunteer work in Tanzania. You see, in volunteering I have committed myself to be poked and pierced repeatedly as I seek to inoculate myself against a host of really nasty diseases. The alternatives, of course, are either to risk serious illness or death or to simply not go. I want to go, so I'm getting used to injections.

I have already had three sets of injections, most recently yesterday. I have had two rabies shots (one more to go), a hepatitis A/B shot (one more to get before the trip, another after), and shots for typhoid, diphtheria, and meningitis. I have an appointment next week with a travel clinic to learn if I need a shot for yellow fever. Thank heavens I was already covered for tetanus and polio a few years back.

And then there is the whole question of malaria. One of the reasons I am going to the travel clinic is to find out the appropriate medication to take, since there are three possible choices. I am not a doctor, but I sure hope that I don't have to take the medication whose major side effect is "night terror". I suspect that regular screaming emanating from my bedroom will have a rather negative impact on my relations with the children.

The Great Adventure: Episode 1

One of the drawbacks about having friends read your blog is that they know things about you that you have elected not to share. I discovered this a little while ago when I received an anonymous comment asking me to talk about my adventures.

Anyone who knows me is aware I am not a particularly adventurous guy. I wait until the pedestrian crossing light flashes before I cross the street. I have never drunk beer and hard liquor in the same evening. I always get to the airport at least 3 hours before the flight is scheduled to board. In fact, if they patterned a game show on my life it would be called "Keep Safe in the Comfort Zone".

That is about to change.

In less than two months, I will be leaving the safety of my comfort zone to spend two months doing volunteer work in Tanzania. The first week will be spent learning some basic Kiswahili and becoming familiar with the culture; the remainder of the time I will be volunteering at an orphanage.

I suppose it would be an understatement to say that this is a world away from my comfort zone. I will be away from family and loved ones for the first meaningful time ever. I will be far away from the familiar surroundings that I have enjoyed in Canada, the United States, and Great Britain. For the first time in my life, I have had to get a visa and innoculations in order to enter the country.

I am not going with any preconceived notions except for one: I will come back a different person than I was when I went there. I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but I do know that it is an inevitable thing. For the first time in my life, I am going to have to look at the real world with all its warts and all its beauty.

I can't wait!

Sometimes It Does Taste Better From a Can

Today I decided to make my own soup stock using a few chicken breast bones, as well as broccoli stalks, celery cuttings, and some bits of onion that I had saved. I added the various items to some salted water and commenced to boil the concoction until the few scraps of chicken flesh that remained pulled away from the bones.

I strained the broth through a sieve and tasted my first attempt at home-made soup stock. The taste was INDESCRIBABLY HORRIBLE! I have never tasted such bad soup stock in my life. I am going to stick to buying chicken stock from now on.

New Features to an Old Blog

I've decided to add two new features to the main page of this blog. Silent Griot's Favourite Links includes links to broadcasters, musicians, hobby sites, and other sites of interest. Silent Griot's Recommended Blogs includes links to blogs that I find interesting and check out occasionally.

CBC's Two Front War in Afghanistan

The CBC is providing people interested in Canada's involvement in Afghanistan with two different approaches to the conflict this week.

The first is, of course, Crazy Eights, is a one hour documentary appearing on CBC Television tonight at 8:00 PM and repeating on CBC Newsworld at 10:00 PM on Saturday. Crazy Eights follows the soldiers of Eight Platoon, C Company, Royal Canadian Regiment for a month as they serve in southern Afghanistan. Eight Platoon, incidentally, has the unfortunate distinction of having suffered the highest casualties of any platoon assigned to Afghanistan.

The second is Afghanada, the half hour draw that airs on CBC Radio One. In previous weeks I would have been hard pressed to decide which program to tune in, but Afghanada is now only heard at 11:30 Friday mornings, so I don't have to choose.

Coming Soon to a Griot Near You

Today I had planned on writing about a major event that is going to happen in my life in the next couple of months. Unfortunately, I am very, very tired so I will have to wait until tomorrow.

Clouded Leopard Update

A couple weeks ago I wrote about the discovery that Clouded Leopards actually formed two species instead of a single species. As I mentioned, I had emailed the Toronto Zoo to find out which species their Clouded Leopard belonged to. Today I received the following reply from Maria Franke, the curator of mammals:

In regards to your question on if the Toronto Zoo Clouded Leopards are the newly identified Bornean/Sumatran species, at this time we are not sure. Because the scientific community was assuming that there was only one species of C. leopard, an extensive DNA study is going to need to occur to identify the animals that are currently part of the North American Captive Breeding Species Survival Plan (SSP). This research could take some time and there is the likelihood that the majority of cats will be a cross due to single species management over the years.

So there you have it: the mystery will continue for at least a little while longer.

Mise à jour d'élection du Québec

The dust has settled in the Québec election. While the Liberal party did emerge as the first minority government in the province in 130 years, some of the facts I reported last night have changed.

First of all, when the votes were all tallied Liberal leader Jean Charest had been re-elected in his riding, which means he remains premier of the province. I imagine he must be a little shocked, though, because he only received 37% of the vote, a mere .4% more than his PQ challenger.

Secondly, the Action Démocratique du Québec holds 41 seats and now forms the Official Opposition. Not bad for a party that only held 5 seats when the writ was dropped. ADQ leader Mario Dumont will be in the spotlight now: how he performs as leader of the opposition will undoubtedly determine whether the ADQ is a viable option in the future or whether these results were just a one-time protest against the two established parties.

Thirdly, the Parti Québécois received the least amount of votes of the main three parties, marking the first time since the 1970s that the PQ were neither formed the government nor served as Official Opposition. I do not confess to being familiar with all of the esoteric elements of Québec provincial politics, but I wouldn't be putting any money down on André Boisclair remaining leader of the party for the next election.
the final distribution of seats is as follows:

Here are the final results:

• Liberals - 48 seats (33.08% of the popular vote)
• Action Démocratique du Québec - 41 seats (30.80%)
• Parti Québécois - 36 seats (28.32%)
• All other parties - 0 seats

Une révolution au Québec?

You have to feel sorry for Jean Charest. First he loses his majority government, then he loses his own seat.

When he announced that Québec voters would be going to the polls, he held a majority of seats in the National Assembly. Undoubtedly, he felt he could take advantage of the Parti Québecois' disarray to win another majority government. The problem, though, is that the voters had something else in mind.

They're still counting the votes, but it looks like Québec will have its first minority goverment in over a hundred years. As of the most recent news report, the Liberals hold or lead in 46 ridings, the Action Démocratique du Québec holds or leads in 41 ridings, and the Parti Québécois controls the remaining 37 seats. The popular vote is also quite close: 32.78% for the Liberals, 31.01% for the ADQ, and 28.93% for the PQ.

So what does this all mean? We are now in a position where there are minority governments at both the national level and in one of the country's largest, and most politically volatile, provinces. I have no idea whether this bodes well for the nation or whether we can expect some turbulence ahead. I do know this, I wouldn't be surprised if the good people of Quebec experience two more elections in the next 12 to 18 months.

The Other O'Reilly

You hear a lot about broadcaster Bill O'Reilly. People either love him or they hate him. (In the case of Stephen Colbert, they also parody him but that's another story altogether.) As one of the few remaining dinosaurs who possess neither cable nor satellite television, I only get a chance to watch The O'Reilly Factor when I am staying in a hotel. To be honest, I don't pine for the show because one episode pretty well seems the same as every other one.

That is not true for the other O'Reilly, the well-respected voiceover director Terry O'Reilly. O'Reilly and the Art of Persuasion, like its predecessor O'Reilly on Advertising, is another one of the little gems that are hidden throughout the CBC Radio One schedule.

The Art of Persuasion looks at the nature of advertising, with a specific emphasis on how advertisements have an impact on -- or are impacted by -- the culture we live in. For example, yesterday's show included an entertaining look at how male-female relationships were portrayed in ads. (Hint to aspiring commercial writers: if someone has to come off looking stupid in the ad, you had better make it the guy.) As was the case with O'Reilly on Advertising, the host makes his points by looking at actual ads that succeeded spectacularly or failed miserably.

One of the things that I particularly like about The Art of Persuasion is how it stands alone. It doesn't matter whether I listen to the entire show or turn on the radio after the program has already started, it is always informative and thought-provoking. And if I miss an episode, I can wait for it to repeat, because each show is a self-contained unit.

Check it out -- you just might be surprised by what you learn. You can hear O'Reilly and the Art of Persuasion on CBC Radio One on Thursdays from 11:30 AM to noon or Saturdays from 4:00 to 4:30 PM.

(Disclaimer: I am not an employee of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, nor am I affiliated with Terry O'Reilly in any way. I just like the show.)

Great Debates: Why Blog?

A few posts ago I wrote that I was considering ending this blog. I got an anonymous comment, possibly from the same person who had commented on the lack of original comment earlier in the week. The actual comment was:

"You have things to say but you are hiding it from the society and I don't know why you are so scared about it. Spit it out and it will be interesting!!!"

I thought that my comments had expressed my own particular view of the world fairly accurately, but I can understand why readers might think I am just rehashing the news. And that brings me to one of the great debates: Why do people blog?

Judging by John Chow Dot Com (http://www.johnchow.com/), some bloggers do it to make money. To be honest, I have read a lot of posts about using one's blog to make money and I still have no idea what they are talking about. While this may be a good option for bloggers with tens of thousands of hits, it is really unimportant to someone with a small audience like SilentGriot.

Another position is that bloggers do it because it makes them feel important. The argument goes that bloggers enjoy the illusion of being a real journalist or writer without having to go through the normal channels. By commenting on news stories or supporting a particular political agenda or preaching their particular religion, they feel like they are somehow making a difference.

I've read blogs, mainly of a political nature, that really do appear to see themselves as speakers on a podium, but the majority of blogs that I've seen are written by ordinary people which brings me to a third explanation: people blog because they do not want to be ordinary. By maintaining a blog, people can feel as if their views matter and their thoughts count. In today's increasingly homogenizing world, everyone needs to feel a little unique. Blogs are just one way of being an individual.

But I think my favourite explanation for why people blog is even more simple. Like me, I think most people blog as a means of keeping in touch with people they have moved away from, physically or mentally. I live half a continent away from my family, so making the blog available to them is an easy way to share what I am doing or what I am thinking. And when you are by nature a bit secretive and reclusive as I am in my personal life, blogging permits you to talk about things that you would never talk about face-to-face or over the telephone.

In the end, I don't think it really matters why people blog, it just matters that they do. Blogging may just be the twenty-first century means for attempting to connect with the world around us.

Aghanada, Intelligence, and Canadian Content

If you've read my earlier posts, then you'll know that I am a big fan of the radio drama Afghanada which airs on CBC One on Thursday nights. The program follows a group of Canadian soldiers serving in Afghanistan.

I have enjoyed listening to the series through its entire run, and I will be sad to lose it when the last episode is aired in April. The show does, however, raise a question for which I have no answer: why has CBC One been able to find an audience for Afghanada while CBC Television has not been able to do so for Intelligence.

Intelligence is a gripping drama set in my old home town of Vancouver. It tells the story of professional ganster Jimmy Reardon (played by Da Vinci's Ian Tracy) and the head of Organized Crime Unit, Mary Spaulding (played by wonderful Klea Scott). The scripts are well-written, the acting is great, and the atmosphere is, well, wonderful. So why did the show struggle to find an audience this past season?

For that matter, why do Canadian networks have such a difficult time creating shows that attract Canadian audiences. Perhaps the answer lies in what Canadians prefer to watch. If you look at the ratings for the week of March 12th to 18th, you find only three Canadian-made programs (marked in red) in the top 10 shows:

1. American Idol (CTV, Tuesday) - 2,742,000
2. Grey's Anatomy (CTV) - 2,700,000
3. American Idol (CTV, Wednesday) - 2,272,000
4. Corner Gas (CTV) - 1,889,000
5. C.S.I. Miami (CTV) - 1,861,000
6. Amazing Race (CTV) - 1,821,000
7. Are You Smarter than a 5th Grader? (Global) - 1,804,000
8. Criminal Minds (CTV) - 1,640,000
9. Hockey Night in Canada Game 1 (CBC) - 1,633,000
10. CTV Evening News (CTV) - 1,612,000
(Source: http://jam.canoe.ca/Television/2007/02/23/3659049-cp.html)

Only one of the Canadian-made shows (Corner Gas) falls into the category of comedy or drama; the other two are sports and news broadcasts. Perhaps surprisingly, only three of the seven remaining American-made shows are dramas; the rest are reality shows (including two evenings of American Idol).

Perhaps the real question is why Canadians prefer US cops and mindless reality shows to comedies and dramas. If CBC Television can crack that mystery, perhaps it will still be here 10 years from now.

A Case for Homeland Security

I think we've lost the war on terror.

I was skipping around the TV channels last night in a fruitless attempt to find something to watch. I was not interested in the "gorenography" of CSI, I find figure skating uninteresting, and I was simply too tired for the thinking that The Agenda would have required of me, so I paused on a new show called Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader? (I know I only mentioned four choices, but I don't have cable so my options were limited.) The ten minutes I spent watching the show have convinced me that the American empire is doomed.

When I watched the show, a female contestant was asked the following question: "If y=3x and 3x=12 what is the value of y?" As is always the case on these game shows, she milked her 15 minutes of fame by describing the thought processes running -- or perhaps "ambling" is the better phrase -- through her head as she sought the answer. (Note to English majors: consider contrasting the stream-of-consciousness monologues observed on shows like Fifth Grader and Deal or No Deal with those of novels such as Tristram Shandy.)

Had she answered correctly, the contestant would have won $100,000. Instead, she wisely chose to quit the game with $50,000. "Why was this a wise decision?" you may ask. Because she thought the answer was "4". She had solved for x instead of y. The correct answer was "12".

I know that some of you are probably thinking, "Give the lady a break. Lots of people have trouble with math." And you are right -- a lot of people do have trouble with math -- but this was not just a math problem. It was a logic problem, and even a reading comprehension problem, as much as it was a math problem. The question was even written across a screen, for heaven's sake.

The worst part of the game, however, came after the correct answer was revealed. In order to actually receive the money, the contestant had to face the camera and admit, "I am not smarter than a fifth grader." Apparently, one is only exempt if one clears the board and answers every question.

So what does this have to do with losing the war on terror? Perhaps it doesn't. But if I were a radicalized and underemployed university graduate chafing under what I perceive to be indignities and oppression from the United States, I would think "If this is how stupid Americans really are, I can take them!"

In a perfect world, people judge cultures by their best representatives, much as we associate Elizabethan England with Shakespeare and not bear-baiting. Most people, however, take the same approach that the Fox network chose when it decided to produce this dreadful show: they look at the worst and tell themselves it is representative of the entire society. And that is the real danger.

The End of the Griot?

I am considering putting an end to this blog. I have enjoyed keeping it updated since I started it nearly a year ago, but as time goes on I am finding it harder and harder to think of things to write about. When it comes right down to it, it seems, I have nothing to say.

Wasn't That a Party?

Sorry for the tardiness of this post, but boy was yesterday a busy day for celebrations. First of all, Norouz -- Persian new year -- started last evening. Secondly, it was Stephen Colbert Day in the city of Oshawa. And of course, yesterday marked the 405th anniversary of the founding of the Dutch East India Company. With so many things to celebrate there were just too many parties to choose from, so I stayed home and went to bed early.

George W. Bush's Linen Anniversary

The second Iraqi-American War began four years ago on this day. President George W. Bush announced the commencement of the air strikes that brought the phrase "shock and awe" to the general public. The troops went in, the statues fell, the dictator was ultimately captured -- and the war goes on.

Four years later, "shock and awe" has been replaced with "disgust and dismay". American troops are still heavily committed on the ground in Iraq, and they continue to take casualties. Iraqis continue to die. The bills mount higher and higher. "Mission accomplished" has become a bitter joke, an exercise in black humour and poor taste.

I do not know the solution to this morass. I doubt that anybody knows the solution. I do know one thing, however. The events of the past four years prove once again that it is easier to start a war than to end one.

In Memorium: Kevin Megeney

It's been a while since I've written about the war in Afghanistan. Unfortunately, the friends and family of Corporal Kevin Megeny laid him to rest on Friday.

Megeney was a member of the reserves who volunteered for service in Afghanistan. He had only been in country for 10 years when he was accidentally shot by a comrade. By all accounts, he was a great guy and a good soldier.

When the news about the death first broke, it was reported that Megeney's family had been called at his insistence. According to the news stories, he was adamant that his mother be called.

I once read a comment in a book about the Second World War that dying soldiers either cry out for God or they cry out for their mothers. Perhaps that is the case, but there is something incredibly touching about Megeney's plea that his mother be notified. Here is a young man who volunteered to put himself in harms way to help the people of Afghanistan, and his last thoughts were of his mother.

I join many other people in extending my sincere condolences to the friends and family who mourn Corporate Megeney's loss, especially his parents (who have publicly requested that no charges be laid against the soldier who accidentally killed their son). I never met the man, but from everything I have learned about him it is obvious that they raised a good man.

The Absolute Last Word on U2 (for now)

I just came across an interesting cover version of Sunday Bloody Sunday that I wrote about in my review of the War album. Check out the link to youtube to watch the video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_vv12NSSZ4

Another New Species

The World Wildlife Fund announced the discovery of a new species of leopard earlier this week. Or rather, the WWF announced the discovery that the clouded leopards that live on Sumatra and Borneo are a distinct species from the clouded leopards that live on the Asian mainland.

As may be expected, DNA testing played a large part in helping to determine that the two populations were separate species, but it was not the only evidence. Scientists also discovered that there were differences in skin colouration and fur patterns. As Andrew Kitchener of the National Museums of Scotland said in a masterful example of understatement, "It's incredible that no one has ever noticed these differences."

The identification as a separate species means that there have been three species of carnivores discovered in Borneo since the turn of the century. (The other two are a "cat fox" and a species of civet.) One has to wonder how many other species are yet to be discovered living in the jungles of Indonesia. Hopefully, separate species status will result in better protection for the estimated 8 -18,000 cats living on the two Indonesian islands.

NOTE: The animal in the photograph is the clouded leopard that resides in the Malayan Woods pavilion at the Metro Toronto Zoo. I am unsure of which species it belongs to.

Album Review: War (U2)

Now that I've finished reading U2 and Philosophy, I have decided to dig up all my old U2 CDs and give them another listen. Not that I ever quit listening to U2. Quite the contrary. However, like many people today, I listen to music on my computer as I work or play, which means that I am able to hear my favourite songs rather than an entire album. I beg you, gentle reader, to indulge a nostalgic old man as he takes a stroll down memory lane.

I had first heard of U2 shortly after I graduated. The radio stations in the Fraser Valley of British Columbia played a lot of total garbage. In any event, I didn't exactly come from a rock 'n' roll family, at least not unless rock 'n' roll died in 1961 when my mom's most recent 45 was pressed. By means I can no longer remember, I came to follow an eclectic group of musical acts: Leonard Cohen, Bruce Cockburn, Red Ryder, Johnny Clegg, the Clash, and, of course, U2.

I was not amongst the first cohort of U2 fans, although I had heard about them from friends who were. I knew a few of the songs off of the Boy and October albums, but the first U2 album I ever purchased, at the House of James religious bookstore no less, was War, and I've been a fan ever since.

In my opinion, War is one of the best rock 'n' roll albums of all times. It combines powerful lyrics with wailing guitars and passionate, throbbing drums. It is also so earnest in its appeal to the better angels in us that the boys can be forgiven for their optimism even by the more experienced version of myself that is writing this post. I loved it then and, I'm happy to say, I still love it now.

The album opens with Sunday Bloody Sunday, a song that begins by condemning sectarian violence and ends with the rousing call to faith: "The real battle just begun/To claim the victory Jesus won". When you are young and unsure of your faith, nothing is as reassuring as a powerfully sung anthem, but then again, I still find the song reassuring.

The next highlight for me is New Year's Day. The song began as a love song to lead singer Bono's wife, but along the way it transformed into a statement of support for the Polish Solidarity movement. I love the entire song, but I am particularly inspired by the thought that "we can break through,/And we can be one".

The band then brings us Like a Song, an energetic piece that ends with the rousing plea: "Angry words won't stop a fight/Two wrongs don't make a right/A new heart is what I need/Oh God, make it bleed". Anyone who has ever contemplated the injustice in the world can empathize with the narrator of the song, even if they don't believe there is anyone in heaven listening to the plea.

Drowning Man, which follows New Year's Day, is a total change of pace, an elegy of love and friendship -- and hope. Back in the good old days of vinyl, albums had two sides, and this song closed side 1 if I remember right. I don't exactly know whether the song is intended as a plea from a man to God or whether it is a promise from God to man. Perhaps the most thrilling part of a truly inspirational song is the passage where Bono sings, "Rise up, rise up/With wings like eagles, You'll run, you'll run,/You'll run and not grow weary." What words of comfort. They still put a lump in my throat, even with -- or perhaps, because of -- my doubts.

Side 2 kicks off with the spirited The Refugee. I know U2 sometimes seems critical of US policy, but the anchor line in chorus is "Her mama says one day she's gonna live in America". I think this is proof that U2, like so many of us, truly loves the values and the heritage that is America at its best. America is not just about injustice and illegal wars and prisoners held at Guantanamo Bay. It is also a generous, idealistic nation that has provided a safe haven for refugees from places as far apart as Vienna and Vietnam.

The penultimate song on the album is Surrender. It is hard to pick a favourite song on an album of such rich possibilities, but if I could listen to only one song it would have to be Surrender. While the subject may not be as "big item" as the subjects of other songs, I find there is an intimacy that is comforting and frightening at the same time. "Sadie said she couldn't work out/What it was all about/So she let go/Now Sadie's on the street/And the people she meets you know." Never mind the fact that Sadie winds up on the 48th floor, we've all met Sadie when I walk the streets of downtown Toronto or Vancouver.

The final song on War has become one of the band's favourite ways to end their concerts. 40 is based on Psalm 40, but I doubt that the author of Psalm 40 ever heard it performed by tens of thousands of people the way U2 has. The song ends with the lament "How long to sing this song?/How long? How long? How long?" When you ask God for answers but get no replies, you know exactly what the singer is asking.

"To Encourage the Others"

250 years ago today, the English Admiral John Byng was executed on the deck of HMS Monarch in Portsmouth harbour. He had been found guilty of failing to do his utmost against the enemy, in this case a French naval squadron at the battle of Minorca.

Byng's squadron was transporting army troops to reinforce the garrison on Minorca when the French arrived. When the battle was joined the next day, the British were bloodied before the French attempted to escape. Although the fleets were roughly even in size, Byng was content to keep his squadron intact and he elected not to pursue the French. Byng failed to land the troops and, lacking reinforcements, the fortress eventually capitulated.

Byng's failure of nerve proved fatal. He was court-martialed and condemned for not having done his utmost against the French squadron, although he was acquitted of charges of personal cowardice. Sentenced to death, he became the last admiral executed in the Royal Navy.

Ironically, Byng may be best known thanks to a resident of France. Voltaire famously satirized Byng's execution in his novel Candide. The eponymous protagonist witnesses the execution of an officer by firing squad and is told that "it is wise to kill an admiral from time to time to encourage the others".

Update to Yesterday's Poem

A couple of people have commented to me that they felt Self-Portrait as Saint Bartholomew is a dark and disturbing poem. One person asked me if I was contemplating suicide. My answers are (1) no, I am not considering suicide, and (2) it should be dark and disturbing -- its a poem about existing in a world where there is no God. It reallly does feel the way the narrator in the poem describes it.

I realize that there may be a bit of confusion and contraction in the poem. After all, how can someone feel pain and despair about not believing in God when there is no God in which to believe? I really don't have the answer to that question. All I have is the question -- and the pain and despair.

Poem: Self-Portrait as Saint Bartholomew

Self Portrait as Saint Bartholomew

See how I lie,
Curled in a ball
Beneath this nest of blankets.
See how I bleed,
Heart stripped from body,
Hope stripped from soul,
Very existence raw and exposed
Like the skin stripped from muscle
On Saint Bartholomew.

Where is the man who once was so proud?
Where is the man who once was so strong?
Where is the man who was once so happy?
Where is the man who loved you so well?

Where is the man I once was?

That man is gone.
He lies in a ball
Beneath a pile of blankets,
Slowly,
Surely
Bleeding to death
While you go on your celestial way.

(c) J S Phillips

My Readers Write (or Comment at Least): The Story Teller

I was talking to a regular reader of this blog the other day. She told me that she liked the photographs and much of the content, but she found my description of myself as a "story-teller" a bit sad.

I didn't really know how to take that. I have always used stories to teach and motivate and manage people. It's part of who I am. In fact, I identified so strongly with this aspect of my personality that I used the unofficial title "chief story teller" in place of my actual title (which is of little consequence and therefore of no importance to the plot of this posting).

When I asked her to explain she did. When she saw "story teller" she pictured a man in a long black coat who comes into town, tells stories to a gathering of people, and then leaves town again. She said that "story teller" suggested to her a person who is on the edges of the group, but not really part of the group.

She may be on to something. If she is, therein lies a tale. If she isn't, at least I've had something to think about.

Faith and Doubt and Rock 'n' Roll

My father is an ordained minister in the Lutheran church, but I don't think you could call me a Christian by any but the broadest cultural definitions. I do not go to services regularly any more. I do not read the Bible at all. Some days I do not even believe that God exists.

And yet I have not totally given up on the idea of God. I know that there is something missing in my life. I know that there is a greater presence than myself alone. I feel the truth of the notion that I am not alone in the universe even if I cannot prove it with objective facts. But then again, I am fond of saying that something can be true without being factually correct.

I often feel like the narrator in that U2 song: "I still haven't found what I'm looking for." I know there is something -- or someone -- to find. I also know that I have not found it yet. I guess that is why I picked up the latest book I am reading from the library shelves earlier this week.

U2 and Philosophy: How to Decipher and Atomic Band is a collection of essays examining the connexion between the boys from Ireland and such philosophical heavyweights as Aristotle, Plato, Heidegger, Kierkegaard, and Nietzsche. I am only on the third essay --"If You Want to Kiss the Sky Better Learn How to Kneel": Existential Christianity in U2 by Mark A. Wrathall -- but I am already certain that it was a book worth checking out.

I thought I'd share a couple of passages that I found particularly relevant:

Despair, as we've seen, grows precisely out of "needing it now" but being unable to have it. The problem is that we long for something that, it seems, can't possibly be realized "in the flesh". For the Christian existentialist, the key is to discover a way to understand our longings so that they can be realized on earth. This will require a changed conception of both our spiritual side and our sensual nature. Faith in God, the Christian existentialist believes, shows us how to do this. In a faithful existence, the world is disclosed in such a way that we can achieve this resolution of the contradiction at the heart of our existence. What with the resolution be like? It will somehow show us both (a) how to pursue something eternal, infinite -- worthy of never ending longing; and (b) allow us to live on earth, in the kind of passionate relationships to others that don't end up driving us to despair by undermining our higher longings.

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Confidence in the truth of certain propositions grows out of the way that faith in Christ produces a changed experience of the world. "The Christian thesis," Kierkegaard wrote, "is not: intelligere ut credam (I understand in order that I might believe), nor is it credere, ut intelligam (I believe in order that I might understand). No, it is: Act according to the command and orders of Christ; do the will of the Father -- and you will become a believing person." Thus faith is to be understood, in the first instance, as the existential state of those who are able to act and live in a Christian way.

Without an ability to live a Christian life and inhabit a Christian world, mere belief in God or the truth of religious claims is not faith, it is superstition. Superstition is belief in the existence of entities and events which do not manifest themselves in the ordinary course of experience. If someone does believe "that rock 'n' roll can really change the world," it need not be a superstitious belief. This is because, while there might be an objectively low degree of probability that just listening to a song will really change all the greed and hatred and evil actions in the world, people might nevertheless, in the normal course of affairs in the world, change their behavior as a result of listening to a particularly inspiring song. By contrast if I believe that there is a God in spite of the fact that there's no place for God in my way of making sense of the world, then the belief is a superstition. It's not just that there is a low probability that God does exist, it is utterly incomprehensible how there could be a God. I am left merely "speaking of signs and wonders," while a true experience of God demands "something other" -- namely, loving action to relive the suffering of others (consider "Crumbs From Your Table").

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We would no say, in other words, that someone has Christian faith who is unable to live a Christian life. This is true, even if that person had a rationally grounded knowledge of God. So faith is located in the existential register, meaning the presence or absence of faith is a matter of the kind of stance one takes on life, the practices one engages in, the ways one feels about things. True faith is found in one's disposition (feelings of the heart) and the actions that arise from those dispositions (living a devout life). Bono echoes this view in his description of his own approach to religion: "God is love, and as much as I respond in allowing myself to be transformed by that love and acting in that love, that's my religion" (Bono in Conversation, p. 200). True disbelief, by the same token, is found in a corrupt and licentious life (taking pleasure in what is not pleasing to God, doing actions that God condemns).

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Faith with then not be amenable to proof in the way one verifies a cognitive state or proposition (demonstrating that it is true). But it will have the kind of confirmation or success conditions that all other skills have. Music skills are confirmed or successful when they allow the musician to cope with the concert hall or the recording studio. Religious faith will be confirmed or successful when it gives me the practices and dispositions I need to cope with the world as a whole. As Father Zosima notes in The Brothers Kariamazov, "one cannot prove anything here, but it is possible to be convinced." He goes on to explain that one is convinced "by the experience of active love .... The more you succeed in loving, the more you'll be convinced of the existence of God and the immortality of your soul. And if you reach complete selflessness in the love of your neighbor, then undoubtedly you will believe, and no doubt will even be able to enter your soul." The confirmation and conviction come, in other words, through one's success in living in the world in the way indicated by faith.

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U2 and Philosophy: How to Decipher an Atomic Band

Edited by Mark A. Wrathall

Carus Publishing Company, Peru Illinois, 2006

ISBN: 0-8126-9599-2

The High Price of Romance

I was in a grocery store earlier today. As I stood in line, my eyes happened upon bunches of flowers in a bucket near the checkout stand. The store was selling the flowers, which according to the stickers on the cellophane were products of Columbia, could be purchased for $3.99 per bunch or 3 for $9.99.

Now don't get me wrong -- I have nothing against a bit of romance. It is nice to bring home your sweetheart flowers once in a while. It is also nice to take sick or lonely friends bouquets to cheer them up. I have to wonder, though, how big of an environmental footprint these flowers bring.

I don't just mean the power and nutrients used to consume them, or the missed opportunities to grow nourishing crops. I imagine the flowers are not grown right next to the airport, so there is likely some sort of transportation involved, and of course one has to also include the cost of flying the flowers from Columbia to Ontario.

When you look at it that way, those cheap flowers do not seem like such a deal.

It's Your Day

Today is International Women's Day, a special day that celebrates the achievements and sacrifices of women. The theme for 2007's day is ""Ending Impunity for Violence against Women and Girls", according to the UN's IWD website: (http://www.un.org/events/women/iwd/2007/). At the risk of taking sides here, that subject is so important that they should have made 2007 the Year of Ending Impunity for Violence against Women and Girls.

Originally the day had distinct political undertones. It was said to commemorate the women who died in a tragic clothing factory in 1911, as well as marking the anniversary of several critical political protests by women. These days, however, the polemical has been replaced by the celebratory and the day has become a chance to recognize the contributions that women make to our societies.

Interestingly enough, International Women's Day is a state holiday in a number of countries, primarily those with former (or current) Communist governments. The list includes Cuba, Russia, Ukraine, China, and Vietnam, amongst others. Interestingly enough, there are no "western democracies", Latin American, Middle Eastern, or African nations that have made the day a state holiday, but it probably doesn't mean anything.

Poem: Kayaking

Kayaking


Why do we do this?
She asks out loud
As the sun plants a kiss
On the mountain’s crest.
I let the paddle speak for me --
Blade slices surface,
Blade slices surface,
Until my world
Is silent once again.



(c) J S Phillips

Today's Playlist

There is nothing worth watching on television tonight, a result (perhaps) of the fact that I do not have cable. I don't really feel like reading, so I am listing to one of my favourite playlists. Most of the songs are sung in languages that I don't understand, but I love these songs all the same. Here's what's playing:

• Theme from Bosporous Bridge (Orientation)
• Takil Bana (Aziza A)
• Sang d'Encre (Jean Le Loup)
• Saye Mogo Bana (Issa Bagayogo)
• Soldier (Dub Chairman)
• The Vanishing Breed (Robbie Robertson)
• Lebanese Blonde, the French version (Thievery Corporation)
• Jackie (Bossa Nostra)
• Vadzimu (Peace of Ebony)
• L'Amour Est Sans Pitie (Jean Le Loup)
• Ciranda (Marcio Farac0)
• You Killing Me (Dimitri Pronin)
• Song of the Black Lizard (Pink Martini)
• Valse des Hypocrites (Mathieu Gaudet)
• Hautoa (Oceania)
• Shiva's Daughters (Arling & Cameron)
• Stogne Bre Mome Kocansko (Vanja Lazarova)
• Edgar (Jean Le Loup)
• A Andorinhada Primavera (Madreus)
• Salpica (Mabotur)
• Afrika (Tukuleur)
• Sympathetique (Pink Martini)
• Valencia (Rachid Taha)
• Daughter of Eden (Johnny Clegg)
• Andalucia (Isabel Longnus)
• San Diego - Tijuana (Harry Manx)
• Wahine Whakairo (Whirimako Black)
• Ouli Ka Bo (Idrissa Bagayogo)

The songs span the globe from Africa to Brazil to Quebec to Europe, but I guess that is why I like this particular playlist so much. The musicianship is great, the tunes are beautiful, and the voices connect with me far more than American Idol ever will. And when you have something like that to connect to, who needs television?

Invasion in Europe!

There was a report on the news of an invasion in Europe. It seems that a company of Swiss soldiers on maneuvers accidentally marched into Liechtenstein. When they realized their mistake, they marched back out. Swiss officials notified their counterparts in Liechtenstein, who claimed that nobody in the small nation even noticed the invaders. If only other invasions could be resolved as easily.

Book Review: American Fascists

Once in a while you read a book that scares the living daylights out of you. Chris Hedges' American Fascists is that kind of book.

Hedges is the son of a minister and a graduate of Harvard Divinity School. He identifies himself as a practicing Christian, and as a practicing Christian he is dismayed at what he is seeing developing in the United States. While the book covers events in America, some elements are directly transferable to other western nations, including my own Canada.

American Fascists is an in-depth look at right wing Christian organizations and their attempts to change the face of American politics -- and society -- in the past several decades. According to Hedges, the Christian "dominionist" movement goes beyond a call to moral rejuvenation to take on the aspects of the German Nazi movements.

The book is filled with numerous examples to back up Hedges' claims. Both movements, for example, are stridently anti-homosexual. Both movements seek to keep women in subordinate roles, both in society and in the home. Both movements have sought to control the future by influencing the education of the nation's youth. Both movements prefer ideologically acceptable pseudoscience -- "blood and soil" racial science for the Nazis and "intelligent design" for the dominionists -- over established scientific thought.

Both movements see the world in conflict-ridden, apocalyptic terms: the Nazis with their eternal struggle against the forces of communism; the dominionists with their struggle against Satan and his allies, Muslims, homosexuals, and liberals. Both movements also believe that their nations have God-given rights not only to empire, but to world domination.

It is impossible to give Hedges' arguments the detail they deserve in a short posting like this one, so let me just say, "READ THIS BOOK". If you have $30, go to your local bookstore and buy it. If you don't have $30, borrow it from the library. If you have to, surreptitiously read a few pages at a time at the bookstore. You may not agree with everything that Hedges says, but I guarantee you will not see the religious right the same way again.

American Fascists: The Christian Right and the War on America
Chris Hedges
Free Press, New York, 2006
ISBN: 978-0-7432-8443-1

The Ghost of Wasted Nights

I am haunted some times by the ghosts of wasted nights, hours spent watching idiotic shows when I could have been reading or walking or learning Cantonese. It is not just the victims who die on these shows: a portion of my life disappears, never to be seen again.

That's What I Get for Living in Ontario

A big storm hit us yesterday as expected, with heavy snows and freezing rain.

I had a doctor's appointment in the city, and I decided to take the bus to avoid potentially terrible driving conditions. Even though I left a full hour earlier than normal, I still missed the appointment.

The weather was nice when I got on the bus, but within 20 minutes the snow was starting to fall. The roads were a complete mess within another 15 minutes. In fact, they were such a mess that the bus took over half an hour to climb one block up a rather shallow incline -- and even then, it got stuck in the snow before it reached the top.

I got off the bus and crossed the street to wait for a bus to take me back home. I waited 15 minutes. I waited 30 minutes. I waited 45, 60, and 75 minutes. No buses came. It was not until a full hour-and-a-half later that a bus came by heading up north.

The net result? I was on the buses or standing in snow at bus stops for five-and-a-half hours from the time I left home til the time I returned. I did not even make it into Toronto proper; I turned back at Thornhill. But things could have been worse: at least it was only snow I had to deal with. The freezing rain did not hit us until later in the evening.

Signs of the New Rome

One of the things that struck me about ancient Rome as I read Terry Jones' Barbarians (see previous post) was how sadistic and violent Roman society was. Perhaps nowhere was this sadism so well displayed as in the gladiatorial contests and public executions that passed for entertainment in both the Republic and the Empire. We certainly wouldn't let that sort of savagery pass for entertainment these days.

Or would we?

Last night I watched CSI: New York, as is my usual Wednesday night habit. The episode began with a young woman being literally sawed in half by a madman magician. As if this mere act of torture was not enough, the producers made sure that there were several shots of the severed corpse visible for all but the truly squeamish to see. They then followed things up with (a) a man being burned to death, (b) a witness recounting a mass murder at a diner, and (c) an attempt to kill a mother by suspending her upside down and in chains in a large container of water.

I know it is sweeps month, but what is going on here? People wonder why there are so many sick and twisted people in the world these days. They ask how it is that someone like Robert Picton could (allegedly) kill almost 50 women and desecrate their remains. They wonder how people like the Beltway snipers could assassinate random strangers with a complete lack of emotion. They wonder how monsters like Karla Homolka could help even bigger monsters like Paul Bernardo commit acts of gross atrocity.

I don't have all the answers, but I suspect that violence on television plays a role. Not only does it desensitize people to violence; it reinforces the idea that victims are objects, not people. In last night's episode we learned the killer's back story, but his two murder victims were little more than mannequins. One was his assistant and sometime lover; the other was an employee. Neither had individual personalities. Neither had individual hopes and aspirations. Neither was anything other than an object for sadism and violence.

I don't expect to see the abolition of violence from television screens. It is, and has been, a staple of television for years. If anything, the violence is getting more graphic and the murderers are getting more imaginatively diabolical. I worry, though, that we are creating a society of cruel, heartless voyeurs who don't consider the impact that their chosen "entertainment" has on the way they see the world. As for me, it looks like I will have to give up my favourite shows, because I do not intend to become a Roman.