Circles in Time

Long before she passed, my mother gifted me a collection of 3x5 index cards, with at least one card for each day of the year. A prolific diarist, my mother had always filled her calendar books with notes about each day. These were not the sort of diary entries wrought with internal dialogue, emotional outpourings, or philosophical handwringing. Rather, they were simple one-line affairs, often remarking on the weather– were it particularly hot, cold, or stormy – but also including tidbits of events, births, deaths, or who she may have visited or called that day.

Eventually she transcribed these entries onto index cards, so as each day passed she would look at the card for the day, see the events that had happened on that same day years past, and make her new entry.

At some point she duplicated her cards for me, telling the story she had captured from my point of view; “dinner with Chris” in my mom’s version, became “dinner with mom.” I’ve had these cards for years and finally decided to make them a project of my own – to put them in some electronic format that I can read and follow along, and also update as my own days pass.

I too, have kept journals. Unlike my mother though, mine are full of haphazard exposition often written in deliberately obscure hand writing. An entry might include several pages of repetitive introspection followed by weeks, sometimes months, of blank pages. Yes I’ve filled volumes over the years, but they paint a timeline that is admittedly rather hard to follow.

Here is the brilliance of what my mother had created – while my journals assemble a sort of linear timeline one might expect in telling one’s story, my mom created a sort of circular, or spiral timeline, in which the past is revisited in regular intervals. In these cards a sort of rhythm is revealed. The spikes of activity in holidays and birthdays are evident and it becomes clear how these are events we normally use to anchor our memories.

In addition, I’ve found that my mom’s simple capture of the day’s events in a single sentence, can also be powerful triggers. As I recently flipped through the cards and saw the words “Dad is ill” I knew that was the day my father could no longer get out of bed, his brain tumor finally causing his immobility. That event forever changes the entire dynamics of our family from that point forward. Three words, no pages and pages of tearful resentments necessary.

I understand this is a code decipherable in many cases only by me. My First concert is recorded on May 19, 1979 as “to LA with friends to see Camelion and whiskey a gogo to see rock group” –my friends would refer to as the day of Cultural Suicide. It included seeing the play “Pygmalion” at the Music Center, the Movie Jubilee at the Nuart, and The Screamers at the Whiskey.

Then There’s February 8, 1984, “opening of winter Olympics in Jugoslavia” – Sure a historic event easily Googled, but for me this marked the start of a three week period of decadence with my soon to be wife eating chocolate, and downing shots of slivovitz anytime a medal was won, or a jump was landed. These simple sentences are memory seeds waiting to sprout and grow into full blown remembrances.

As this project continues I’m slowly learning my mother’s simplified methods of distilling a day into a sentence. I know I’m consciously trying to capture the things that will become my future memories, but I also wonder about those events whose significance only reveal themselves in time. Points in time, points on a circle. I’m enjoying this journey through my forgotten anniversaries.

Adventures in Hedonism - A Night on Broadway

This adventure was a bit of an accident – or happenstance as it were. Invited by a friend to see Wilderbe perform, we planned for dinner and a show – a night in downtown LA. I don’t get to downtown as much as I like, but every time I do it seems the place is a little bit more reclaimed as a destination.

Like any other city whose citizens fled for the suburbs decades ago in search of space and quiet neighborhoods, Los Angeles’ downtown suffered from neglect. Events like the Downtown Art Walk have slowly brought activity to the downtown nights. Starting only with one night a month, new restaurants and galleries have emerged and their success seems to have this slow but steady momentum.

We should have had a clue when every restaurant within 3 blocks of the Theater District was booked solid. Somehow we managed an early reservation at Industriel, which worked to our advantage – Valet parking for $7. Besides the food, I was amused by their teaser frosted windows on Grand allowing voyeuristic peeks into their kitchen.

After dinner we strolled to the venue and came upon a street closure. It seems, the show we were going to see was a small part of a greater event celebrating the revitalization of LA’s Theater district. I think something like seven different theaters were open free to the public, with Broadway blocked off, filled with food trucks, and a street party. It seems this was year seven of a 10-year plan to reopen the closed theaters of Broadway

The hallmark of the even though as the Los Angeles Theater – stepping into it was like walking into a time machine. Celebrating it’s own 84^th Anniversary, The Los Angeles Theater retains all the elements you’d expect stepping for a night out on the town circa 1932. The Neoclassical details are just what you’d expect from Hollywood’s opulent heyday. No wonder this shuttered theater still makes its way into the movies as a readymade set.

My pictures don’t do it justice, the entrance is grand. The stairs to the balcony take you past a fountain (filled on this occasion by two mermaids). Downstairs, a bar that begs making a perfect Manhattan, and a Ladies room that boasts an oval sitting room with individual vanities, perfect for powdering one’s nose, and a full size, three-part mirror at the exit, to make sure you are looking good from all angles.

We of course made even deeper archeological digs using our cell phones as flashlights to check out the adjacent kids playroom, with a circus tent ceiling, and wall freezes of giraffes, elephants, and clowns. It is a crime that this place is not in regular use, but at the same time it’s a treasure and a time capsule that surely would have been renovated into nondescript functionality.

Seeing the theater alone would have made the evening worthwhile, but seeing it in use, with Wilderbe was all the more spectacular. A contemporary dance, performance art piece might seem out of place in such a theater, but in an aesthetic that makes new from old, the theater itself was a great found object. Wilderbe was a fun amalgamation of tribal circus dance puppetry and theater, a nice sampling of their talents, and capabilities.

After the show we wandered the neighborhood trying to see as much as we could before the theaters all closed. We slowly made our way beck to the restaurant and our car, but stopped along the way to check out PershingSquare. I tried to create a chess set out of things I could find in my pocket, but it seems even Pershing Square has a closing time and a security guard sent us on our way.

There are three years left on this ten-year revitalization plan. I hope this theater is both put to good use and preserved for future urban archeologists.

Faith Gap

While going through a difficult time a friend said to me those oft-said words, “It will all be okay.” A time honored cliché but as I heard the words and appreciated the sentiment, I couldn’t help myself from thinking that, “no, there’s a good chance things won’t be okay.” The usual follow-ups include, “Everything happens for a reason,” “When one door closes another opens,” or if particularly religious, “God does not give you what you cannot handle.” All of these comments lean on a shared belief that there are benevolent powers in the universe that have your best interest in heart.

However, I’ve come to realize that I have a faith gap. I do not believe in a benevolent universe. I find no comfort in trusting in God, Karma, or the Secret.  Rather I believe the universe to be amoral, random, and thus merciless in what it tends to serve up to anyone. I’ve seen enough friends and family members go from a bad situation to worse, and while I can maybe spot a silver lining here and there, they are often meager consolation prizes for what once was.

Of course this doesn’t stop me from saying those same words when bad luck falls on my own friends and family. Perhaps there’s a part of me that hopes their faith still is strong. Because let’s face it that faith enables them to endure more and suffer less. It alleviates the worries of future uncertainties. Like the levitating powers of fairy dust, it works if you believe it – I just can’t bring myself to believe in it.

Despite my lack of faith, I find great wisdom in the serenity prayer: God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, The courage to change the things I can, . Easy enough it would seem, but my faith gap is sometimes a roadblock to acceptance. Without trust that someone or something is taking care of things on my behalf, I’m left to game out all the worst-case scenarios – worrying about the future instead of accepting it as something beyond my control.

Where I do have faith, it’s in myself. To quote Nietzsche, “that which doesn’t destroy me, makes me stronger.” Whatever my circumstances, I still can make the best of it. Sometimes the only thing that I can change is myself, or my attitude. Isn’t that the secret to existential bliss? Or is that simply a delusion?  Applying the serenity prayer seems to always be a work in progress.

I suppose I do have faith beyond myself – I tend to have faith in other people. I believe other people generally strive to do the right thing – to be “good.” Unfortunately that “good” can become ill defined in the most well intentioned of people. Still I do have faith that taken outside of their fears and prejudices most people will help others in need.

I think luck plays a greater role in our lives than we feel comfortable to acknowledge. In that respect I have already been extremely fortunate. Believe me, I’m well aware of my privilege. Just open any news feed (or history book) and I know at once how fortunate I am. The worst of my troubles are nothing in comparison, and yet I still can’t seem to take comfort in my privilege. Again, it seems a random quirk that could reset at any time.

I suppose this is where the leap of faith comes in. In the unknowable future of the unknowable universe anything is possible, accept this and put my best foot forward. Whether a benevolent force exists or not I will continue moving until I stop. Faith provides momentum.

Musings in Hedonism - The Philosophy Store

So after my last blog post a friend remarked that she’d love to hear my musing on what a philosophy store would look like. We’ll that’s too good of a challenge to pass up – so here it is:

When I first conjure up the idea of a philosophy store my mind immediately thinks of an old bookstore. You know the one’s, full of hard copy books with bindings that speak of another era, that musty scent of paper. Indeed there must be bookshelves to house the classic works that so often rest hidden away in books.

But that’s an anachronistic image. The access to those thoughts and pages can be done with a simple web search now. Wikipedia provides succinct summaries of most philosophers' great works, so perhaps among the bookshelves, you’ll see a cubby stocked with a computer terminal, or perhaps today you just needs a charging station for your phone and a link to the right app.

But both those visions seem a bit passive for what a philosophy store could really be. Philosophy requires dialogue. Flat presentations of unchallenged ideas speak more of dogma than philosophy. For that reason there must be a forum. Perhaps this is a nod to the Socratic method – but there needs to be an open space for people to both present ideas, and have them challenged.

Some might think a church might be a good model for a philosophy store. After all a church is designed to present its philosophy to its followers. But this misses a very important point about what philosophy really is. As counterintuitive as it may seem, Philosophy is not really about providing answers, rather it is about asking the right questions. The one-to-many design of churches stifles the dialogue of questions, doubts, and skepticism (essential parts of any philosophic exploration).

Perhaps a trading floor is a better model? Instead of an exchange of stocks or commodities, it’s the exchange of ideas that serves as commerce in a philosophy store. Then again, perhaps philosophy cannot be monetized in such as fashion – but there’s a whole theory of value to recon with when philosophy is the product.

Another approach might be a bit more personal. Allowing for subjectivity, it may be that philosophy is a distinct matter for each individual. Philosophy might be a form of therapy one undertakes with a licensed professional philosopher. This would require private rooms like a medical suite (perhaps located across the forum and behind the bookcases and charging stations?) An approach akin to the Existential Detectives of I Heart Huckabees.

Here individuals could craft their philosophies, positing their own questions about life, the universe, or right and wrong. They might make statements of belief, while their philosopher therapist probes them with challenging questions, alternate interpretations, or a random non sequitur to shake things up. Therapy would continue until one reached a point where the answers to the questions no longer mattered.

As I jot all this down, I have to confess I think such as place could exist – perhaps even a virtually. Whether one could make a living off of it though is an entirely different question. And that, of course is the challenging question to all my thought experiments these days. But I’m still asking questions – so I’m not done quite yet.

Embracing Chaos

I've mentioned before that I have a tendency of playing things safe. I suppose we all are predisposed to keep doing the things we’re comfortable with, to be complacent with our routines and expectations. But the truth is, as good as we get at managing our outcomes, there’s always a margin of error, an element of risk. That bit of information overlooked, misunderstood, or simply unknowable that suddenly reveals to us that order is an illusion. We are often steps away from unexpected chaos.

For a play it safe kind of guy, you’d think my response to chaos might be to try to prepare for it, to have that emergency fund, that earthquake preparedness kit, a solid plan B – like most rational people, especially a rational hedonist, would. And, I do – to some extent; though perhaps not as completely as I might like...

After almost 30 years in the same business I’m now unemployed. I’m anxious about what I’ll do next, where I might live, how I might have to adjust. To be sure I’ll be doing what's traditional and expected. I'll update my Linked-In profile, network with peers, keep up with industry trends, etc.. But in this moment of chaos, I’ll also cast a glance to other far off options. What else can I do? Could I start my own business? Is that philosophy store even possible? What would it look like? What other imaginary lives can I entertain and make real?

I’ll fantasize about pursuing these options, turn them into thought experiments, always weighing the risk.

Rational as that might seem, I can’t help but look at my risk aversion as one of my flaws.  A flaw that might actually be preventing me from living as fulfilling of a life as I might otherwise. As a rational hedonist I ought to be willing to take a few more risks.  So, as much as I like to play it safe, I secretly welcome this sort of anarchy and chaos. It destroys my excuses, makes me vulnerable, but also opens me to possibilities I might never allow myself. “That which does not destroy me, makes me stronger, “ remains a favorite Nietzsche quote.

Is it any wonder that the worlds of myth and folklore often have some god or hero associated with Chaos and destruction? Loki, The Trickster, Shiva – they all play a role of disrupting order. They humble us reminding us that we are not always in control of our destinies. Truth is, these are the characters whose stories I most enjoy. They shakes things up and challenge the status quo. Their disruptions often make the unimaginable possible.

When faced with the frustration of choosing the right “key words” to get past the robo-gatekeepers of corporate HR, a friend suggested I use the terms, “Hedonist, Mixologist, Existential Detective, Philosopher, and Aesthete.” I quickly made business cards with those titles. They have become my affirmations. I look at them and am reminded who I really am. What I value. Who I really want to be. Something to look at while I create and market my “brand” – that distilled “safe-for-work” version of myself carefully crafted to fit into the resumes and cover letters designed to secure gainful employment.

Chaos to me is a gift. When I am unwilling to take that leap, I'll invite chaos comes along and gives me a good shove. I’m still afraid during my free-fall, worried about my potential crash, but I’m given a chance to land on some different ground and explore the new territory I had only dreamed about before. Sometimes a world must be destroyed to make way for a new world to be created. 

I look forward to exploring this new world.