Some existential musings

For some reason, I find myself in a more existential mood over the last week or two. Sometimes, it is like a switch and suddenly the subtle things move from the background to the fore and I am left attempting to define the meaning. I realize that makes little sense but it is always a challenge to pick a word or phrase that clearly conveys the meaning of feelings which are altogether vague and amorphous.

So, when I feel this way, I find myself turning to existential things, books in particular. I grabbed my copy of Exupery’s “Southern Mail” and was reading it at lunch. I love Exupery’s choice of words when describing the desert and the separation of the character from the world below when he is in flight and how difficult it is to integrate when he is landed and back in the world. It is beautiful, sad but touches something inside that I can’t quite describe. Exupery was only 44 when he died in WWII after going on a reconnaissance mission, never to return.

It is not only Exupery but I often find myself drawn to that struggle to find a place, leave a mark or, sometimes, fly above it, only occasionally touching down for moments before leaving again. I sometimes compare it to the job I used to have where I would move about the country, living in different towns for a while and then, when the assignment was done, packing my few items and driving to the next state. I probably wrote about it before. Anyway, I used to like it. I did not care for the actual work I was doing but I liked being a temporary citizen of a heretofore unknown place, living amongst the natives. Then, one morning, picking up and disappearing to some other place. There was a degree of comfort to it as well as satisfying one’s craving for the novel. I am not sure why I liked it so much. Was it the freedom, the lack of owning a lot of things, the change? I do not know. Then again, maybe it just meant that I had not found my place, where I belong and the search would continue until that day. I think that search is still on but I have been more stuck as of late. I think that will have to change soon and perhaps it will.

Feeling the Earth move

So, where was I when the earthquake hit this morning? I was actually sitting on the toilet, in a stall, at work. I know, it does not sound terribly romantic but, there it is. I wasn’t outside pushing a baby carriage out of the way of a falling piece of roof tile or using my body to shield little old ladies from store front glass shattering onto the streets. Instead, I was sitting there, in the toilet, thinking of nothing in particular.

When the floor began to shake, I, at first, thought I should jump up and get out but then I decided to just relax, go with the roll and take my time. I decided, if fate has my end in mind, who am I to question it, regardless of the circumstances, such as they were. As the swaying stopped, I buttoned up and tucked in my shirt and went over and washed my hands (one must always wash one’s hands, regardless of the surrounding disaster!) and then I left.

Out on the street, everyone was on their cell phones, calling someone or another. I didn’t call anyone. I overheard “5.4” and decided it was far too small to bother with it. I am a native of this area and anything below a 6 is just too small to sweat. Actually, I would imagine this incident was well received by the many tourist here for the summer. After all, it is part of the so-called, L.A. experience. It is the ultimate E-ticket ride and it doesn’t even cost a dime.

What is the measure?

Most of my workaday lunch hours are spent taking a walk, reading a book or just sitting and watching people (“chacun vient, chacun va”). It is during these moments that I wonder what would make me happy and what is happiness, if it can even be objectively defined.

I spot a group of special needs adults across the street, having lunch in a shady area near the mall. I look at them for a while and wonder if they are happier for all that they lack. Is their lot in life worse for lacking high paying jobs, driver’s licenses, earbuds, text messaging and the art of navigating the complex and dangerous current and eddies that make up interpersonal communication. Of course, I am projecting and stand guilty of rendering an interpretation based on preconceived notions that are largely untested or unqualified based on my experience.

Perhaps they look over at me, observing the observer, wondering if I am not so much happier in my life, a man in a tie with an “important job”, living independently and free to move through this world without a chaperone, confident in the ability to cope with any situation that may arise.
It is relative but I suppose it says something about me and how I often I want to just disappear off the map and lose myself or maybe find myself. It is not just about place. Although, place can have an influence and motivate one’s thoughts in certain directions. Still, it is but one element, another of which is the real self existing inside that is often hidden from the world. Maybe that too is what I saw in the faces of the group eating lunch at the mall, words and actions coming from the heart and not filtered, modified or covered by masks.

For so many of us, there are a myriad number of masks that, at the end of the day, it is difficult to remember which one is the real me…if any. So, perhaps in wanting to run away, it is also a desire to start somewhere fresh and not put on masks but, instead, to cry when I am sad or smile when I am happy and not worry about every word leaving my mouth. I think this even, indirectly, ties to dominance and submissive issues. It is sometimes difficult being a person who, on the inside, is more quiet or submissive and being criticized when not acting the role of being forceful, commanding, confrontational. Nothing changes inside of me. I simply craft new masks to wear and hopefully fool the intended audience, believing somehow that it is all worth it for being able to pay the mortgage, bills, and high credit ratings.

What of all this? I guess I still find myself wondering what is happiness and by whose yardstick shall it be measured and are some of us unable to reach it. Did I lose it as I lost my innocence or is a new measure of it waiting to be found, one that is relational to where I am in life.

Hope and Change

I was just straightening up things following a day at work when the doorbell range. Surprised, as I do not receive many visitors, I ambled over and opened the door. I found myself staring into the eyes of a college age man with short curly hair, freckles and a bright smile on his face. Immediately, he launched into a well prepared and rehearsed monologue on how Obama is uniting us for change. He assured me that, unlike any other candidate that has ever sought the presidency, this one is going to the grass roots and refusing the contributions of corporate America.

Throughout his speech, I stood quietly, studying his face, in particular, his eyes. He had the look of one who has been mesmerized or born again at a revival. Finally, he finished what he had to say and extended to me the paperwork to fill out and provide my financial pledge to Obama bring change, hope, reduction, the dawn of a new tomorrow, the end of green house emissions and how to keep Saran Wrap from tangling when I pull it out. I told him, “No thank you”, and returned to my mundane activities.

I find people who worship politicians, speakers and celebrities somewhat scary. At least, if the guy at my door was spreading a religion, I could understand his excitement. I mean, if your promoting a being that is omnipotent, I could see a reason for being a bit impressed by that.
Whenever I see a politician speaking, be it in real life or on television, my eyes always go to the audience and the folks who stand with that bizarre wide-eyed expression which are probably indicative of a brain sailing along on a pleasant and rhythmic sea of alpha waves. The man at my door was no exception and I simply could not connect his religious-like fervor to a politician.

Perhaps I have grown too cynical but I like to remain skeptical and realize that everyone up there on the pulpit, regardless of party affiliations, is a person and no matter how many pleasant remarks they make, one must take it with a grain of salt. I actually get more nervous about someone, the more they promise and the more they keep spreading glittering generalities and the like.