Thursday Musings

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

I have spoken that phrase to myself often in the past months. If used too often, I suppose, the impact lessens (and I risk a copyright infringement lawsuit from Tim Robbins and The Shawshank Redemption). But neither has occurred yet. And the phrase still resonates.

The clustering of struggles, or misfortunes, is a common experience. It never rains, but it pours. It’s always that day when you have two events to attend, each requiring a different uniform, a project due, and an official visitor that you discover your car’s gas tank is nearly empty. Or a co-worker gets hurt. Or a loved one needs support. Or a family member turns on you.

The phenomenon is not confined to single days, either. It’s always that month in which you have to travel, and there’s a period when your boss is gone, and work is very busy that you get sick. Or have to move. Or have a loved one needs extended support.

In tough periods, it takes a very strong person to hold it all together. Some cope by becoming reclusive. Others with alcohol or cigarettes or fast food. Nearly everyone cuts out the healthy habits that are hard to fit in our lives even at the best of times: exercise, leisure time with friends, some hobby truly enjoyed, meditation or religious practice. And you might find yourself desperately lonely, drowning, and numb.

Most of the time, we come through. There’s some growth, perhaps, and some accompanying regrets; there’s also a period of freedom and gratitude. Things are so much better now. The question asked millions of times by millions of people is, how? What changes? Is it the world--does ‘bad luck’ turn into good luck? Is it the person who effects an ‘attitude adjustment’? The staple of daytime talk shows and self-help books is the promise that if the author’s (or host’s) advice is followed, the dark times will disappear and happiness will endure forever. How nice. How unhuman.

Christianity teaches that such dark periods are opportunities. It’s hard to put into words without appalling, but according to Church teaching God allows us to be alone without him, whether due to our own choice (rejection of Him, which equals sin) or because our love of Him has room to grow. It’s easy to be cheerful, loving, and generous when life goes well--it requires much more cheer, love, and generosity when the world feels arrayed against you. This opens up quite the proverbial can of worms (Pandora’s box?), however. Why would God ever wish us to suffer if he’s so loving? Why have ‘dark periods’ at all?

I have no answer to that one. But the record shows it’s a part of life--if you believe such things, even Jesus went through dark periods as a human. Once, certainly during his 40-day temptation in the desert; once prior to his crucifixion in the garden of Gethsemane. St. Augustine’s Confessions admirably relates the development of a ‘dark period’ and his transition to happiness (the word ‘admirably’ captures even the reaction of non-Christians); St. John of the Cross wrote a famous Spanish poem about it that Spanish Literature majors like me study in college to this day; both St. Teresa of Ávila and Mother Teresa of Calcutta, 500 years apart, wrote movingly that despite their lauded closeness to God by fellow Christians, they underwent periods of almost crippling depression while they dealt with a dark period of their life.

But I digress. All we collectively know about these ‘dark periods’ is that we don’t collectively know how they come about, or recede. We just know that we experience them. And I feel as though I am finally emerging from a dark period myself, for no other reason than the simple details of this Thursday.

The sun was shining as I woke, rested, from the first complete nights’ sleep in weeks. It was shining--there’s no other word for it--gloriously. The quality of the light alone made me want to jump up and do something. The warm, windy conditions yesterday, with the heavy spitting rain, were redolent with memories of storms and tropics; they presented a figurative last hurdle and prophesied a moment in just such a sun. The wind breathed strongly but relaxingly through the freshly scrubbed air and trees in the brightness, and there was a fresh scent.

I also wrote an award. It’s hard to imagine that this extra little piece of administrative paperwork would bring such satisfaction, but sometimes I feel trussed and crushed by gratitude, the monstrous burden of having to be grateful all the time to those who have helped out here and there, or forgiven a blunder I’ve made, or even just done something nice for me. Guilt and gratitude are an unhappy couple. So when I feel some gratitude that’s not required, gratitude for something that had no effect on me, it causes simple joy. It’s the kind of gratitude that those pesky and cloyingly sentimental daytime talk show hosts sell you. And I figured out what it was today.

Now I sit, copper afternoon sun streaming through my office window, struggling to put down the welling emotions within me on this computer screen. I can only focus on the visuals--the gilded, white-framed, blue-purple clouds enhancing the light (always the light!), the bracing cold outside, the tidy office that is finally so after a month of physical upheaval. It’s tough giving context to unfiltered awe and wonder.

So while I meant to write some pedantic screed about pushing onward in the face of difficulty, because no swamp lasts forever, I refuse. I did keep moving forward in my recent dark period, despite sins and setbacks. But whatever effort I put in, whatever respect or consideration I earned--it doesn’t even come close to how I feel today. It doesn’t even belong in the same league. There’s some pride and austere, cold satisfaction in weathering a storm, but there’s grace in the sunlit, grateful glory of this day. There’s grace.

And suddenly I remember this quote with happy resolution:

We must say that the sun looks down on nothing half so good as a household laughing together over a meal, or two friends talking over a pint of beer, or a man alone reading a book that interests him; and that all economies, politics, laws, armies, and institutions, save insofar as they prolong and multiply such scenes, are a mere ploughing of the land and sowing of the ocean, a meaningless vanity and vexation of spirit.

The Virtues of Conformity

The idea of conformity has been pressing on my mind as of late, due to a recent conversation I had with a business executive. She had consented to let me train her and some of her peers ‘the Marine Way’ (and--self-aggrandizement warning--you can check it out here), and was nice enough to say that it was really good training.

I don’t know if she was being sincere, as we had engineered the event to make her cold, wet, tired, and hungry and then forced life-or-death decisions on her and finally berated her for the poor decisions she made, but well. Her professor for this part of the Executive MBA degree she was pursuing had offered it as part of his Ethics class, and she had, after all, volunteered.

And it was satisfying to see civilians who were cold, wet, tired and hungry (on a holiday weekend). For once.

But she seemed quite enthused about what happened to her. And as we spoke, she commented to the effect that she was surprised that an organization as rigid as the Marine Corps could produce independent-minded thinkers, or that individual Marines would seem so comfortable speaking their mind to each other (especially when rank was involved).

I answered her with my thoughts at the time. I told her that, in my experience Marines were more genuinely and truly themselves than people in other groups. That I thought the reason had to do precisely with the enforced conformity and rigidity, because those qualities suppress the individual’s ability to self-express on the superficial level. You know, with the brand of their clothes, or the style of their hair, or their hobbies. Once everyone looks the same, and falls under the same expectation, there’s a common language and experience and you immediately meet something closer to the real person when you meet a Marine.

She acted like she had received an epiphany, and told me that she often thought that many of her colleagues did just that--they self-defined with external things, such as their appearance, their tastes, their hobbies--and therefore those people were inauthentic.

Which is topsy-turvy.

I don’t disagree. I don’t mean to turn this into a rant against culture, media, or ‘kids these days’ (though as I age I find it’s increasingly easy to do so). Like many of my peers I have struggled with who I am, wondering why I was so inaccessible to myself. Who is the real me? was a question I had asked--continue to ask--over and over again. It would certainly seem that seeking things I enjoyed or admired might provide a clue to the answer, and so--again, like many of my peers--I spent adolescence and after ‘trying on’ new looks, personalities, life goals, and the like. Whichever ones ‘stuck,’ I reasoned, would be truly me.

Listen to how seductive that is.

There’s some evidence, I’m told, real scientific and psychological evidence, to suggest that such ‘fishing’ for personality traits and values is an essential part of adolescence. And like most of adolescence, it is at its heart quite selfish.

Oh, I’m not denigrating adolescents. A rather recent father myself (whose daughter, thankfully, is still far from that age), I’m beginning to understand how essential selfishness is to a kid’s survival and development. It’s not malicious or thoughtless, really--it’s just natural. It feels natural.  Maybe self-absorption is a better term, maybe that more accurately captures the need for children from toddlers to teenagers to focus on their consistently expanding knowledge, sensations, emotions, and the like. So I’m not saying that adolescents equal selfish. If that’s true at all, then it doesn’t even tell half the story about what adolescence is: the passion, the idealism, the joy at finding such a marvelous, multifaceted, and wonderful world as ours. Seriously.

But one thing that nearly every psychologist says about adolescents is their desire to fit in. And shopping around for something that’s ‘truly you’ is usually more accurately defined as trying to conform to some thing, some value, some culture in which you want to fit in. A teenager dying his hair black and wearing makeup may look weird and stand out, but he’s also fitting in to a specific group. A few weeks later, when he gets a crew cut and tries out for the soccer team, he’s again trying to fit in. Such attempts, whether by teenagers or by adolescent adults who should know better, and who haven’t ‘found themselves’ by their late twenties (I’m one of the latter, I’m afraid, and I’m already 30!), are based on the pervasive and alluring belief that image equals reality, and they are focused entirely on the self.

That’s why they don’t work: we blithely acknowledge that while a soft drink company may imply that drinking their product makes one beautiful and happy and puts one into a life of partying, it isn’t necessarily true; we all too often assume that if we change ourselves to conform to someone who looks to us like he or she is beautiful and happy, we will then become similarly beautiful and happy. Maybe that attribute, or that personality trait, or that job, or that ‘look,’ we say, maybe THAT’S what I’ve been missing all along. Maybe THAT’S truly me!

“What I’ve been missing.” “[What’s] truly me.” Focused on self. It’s really seductive, as I pointed out before. It brings with it the illusion of control (“I can change this”). It indulges the fantasies that prey on all of us, fantasies about being attractive and fulfilled and successful and always having fun. And if phrased as a search for authenticity, well, then it becomes admirable too. How often, readers-in-your-twenties-and-thirties, have you heard your friends say something like, “I’ve just decided to try some things out, to let go, to really explore/experience the world and find myself?” Maybe I’m the only one, but I’ve heard it a lot. I’ve said it a lot. And boy is it admirable. You can’t help but respond with some cocktail of envy and adulation and pride, “good for you! That’s great!”

And they will go off on their own. But to find what? Someone or something else they admire. Why do they admire it? Is there some immutable personality that must be unlocked in each of us? Perhaps. Christianity teaches us that we are all unique and created for love in a unique way. Two children, raised identically, will not be identical. Not even if they are identical twins. But when we start talking about ‘finding ourselves,’ we are looking for things that will inspire us. We are looking for people, and ideas, and values (and yes the superficial things too, such as looks or styles) with which we desire participation and closeness.

Participation and closeness to things means a relationship. All of those things which make up personality--“the set of enduring behavioral and mental traits that distinguish [individual] human beings” (thanks Wikipedia, though I think this originates in the DSM-IV)--are partially (mostly?) forged in and by relationships. We learn basic ideas of self from our parents (actually, we don’t even distinguish ourselves from our parents until we’re several years old). We learn initial values from parents and teachers and peers, and as we develop we continue to expand our number of relationships. I don’t deny that some behavioral and mental traits seem to be ingrained in us from birth, but there’s no doubt that even those supposedly immutable traits are modified by our relationship with people who give us role models, or who mentor us, or who shape and develop those original traits. All of our relationships, good and bad, have affected our personalities, have created a complex layer of emotions and ideas that shape our unconscious responses to stimuli ranging from how we greet a stranger to our behavior in an intimate relationship.

That is why it is foolish, and ultimately selfish, to embark on a solo quest to ‘find oneself.’ Without the relationship one is merely imitating the images he or she sees, and the self-development is essentially superficial. The relationship, the encounter, the challenge of ideas and the emotional investment that makes one care--that causes self-development.

Therefore conformity actually engenders relationships.

Wait, hear me out.

For people concerned with ‘finding themselves,’ all of those superficial distinguishers--the looks, the hobbies, the certain friends, the political positions, the opinions--those things are actually defense mechanisms. They are meant to declare, like the ‘emo’ teenager, I’m this way, and you’re not. They are meant to inhibit relationships, except with a select group of people who are deemed ‘worthy.’ And though they would say that relationships exist within their clique, they are actually all using each other to convince each other that they are ‘truly themselves.’ More accurately, each one of them is privately trying to believe that individually he or she has become the best version of him- or herself. In other words, they aren’t interested in relationships because they are too busy trying to feel good, on their own, for themselves.

They are brainwashed. They adhere so closely to an idea that they cannot see the beautiful reality of the other complex people around them. They are closed to wonder, because they’ll reject anything new that doesn’t enhance their opinion of themselves.

I feel pity, if that’s the case. I’ve certainly been there before, and it wasn’t because (I hope) I was then or am now a horrible, self-absorbed, malicious, narcissistic person. It was just that I was trying so hard to find my ‘true self’ that I couldn’t see that I was actually retreating into myself. I’m sure Freud would have a field day with me.

Conformity, though--conformity attempts to deny the luxury of outward appearances. It means one must interact with the person, not an impersonal collection of attributes. It means one can’t exist in a pleasant fantasy of self-actualization, half-way in the future; one must be in the present. And what I’ve found in the Marine Corps is that you see everyone’s real personality. What they really think, and want, and care about. That’s because you are personally close to them, and understanding fosters companionship, which is essential to teamwork.

Relationships create roles. We all play roles throughout life--son or daughter, sibling, friend, confidant, supporter, lover, taker, hero, employee, manager, customer, server, husband or wife, mother or father. Roles can change, if we want them to, to be sure. But roles are also comforting as well. They help us understand how to relate to others, and guide our behavior. We understand it’s inappropriate for a child to back-talk to a parent because we understand each of their roles in that relationship. The rigid rank structure of the military creates pre-defined roles, which also engenders relationships.

Conformity is such a bad word in today’s popular media. It carries connotations of stupidity cowardice, and contempt. ‘Be yourself!’ we are exhorted in songs, on billboards, on talk shows and late-night radio. Well, yes, I say, but ‘self’ is developed in relationship with others. That requires some conformity--at least a conformity to manners, if the relationship is to be friendly. In fact, the more I conform and develop a common visible connection between myself and another, the more I can understand and appreciate (for good or for bad) those behavioral and mental traits that constitute personality.

I suggest that conformity might require you to change the way you look, but it doesn’t change you. It actually lets your self out of its cage of appearances to encounter the world.

So, I told this lady. The conformity to which we submit as Marines actually brings us closer personally, and fosters a community. In a platoon, all are unbearably, undeniably individual. With just a look, or an epithet, or a terse opinion (respectfully voiced from lower ranks), one individual may change the course of the whole unit because there exists common respect and reliance. That’s what enables Marines to make good decisions in tough situations. In that sort of community, someone who is putting on a show, adopting superficial changes, that person is rejected. It’s a little bit like a family, actually, but then families conform to each other too.

Paradoxically, conformity seems to be (in some way) the key to individuality.

And except for the odd sociopath, individuality is a wonderful thing, because out of it springs true love, community, creativity, and knowledge (and probably a lot of other things that elude me now)--it produces all the things that make life worthwhile. But first you must have good relationships, and despite the negative connotations, good relationships mean conformity.

On Sports

The most popular entertainment in America. Controversial. Controlled violence, unparalleled grace, heroic effort, bullies and villains, powerhouses and underdogs, inspiring stories. Lovers and haters.

The tenuous connection between the players and the teams. The stars and the unsung workhorses. Brute effort and relentless dedication versus millions of dollars and flashy lifestyles. The tenuous connection between the teams and their followers--the question of whether the teams represent, or play for the impassioned fans of their cities.

Sports.

I watched my team, the Fighting Irish, lose completely to the Crimson Tide of Alabama in the College Football National Championship last week. What to say? That our undefeated regular season was something to be proud of? That it was an accomplishment to make it to the National Championship game? That it augurs well for next season?

No.

Those things are true. Such sentiments indicate the first great gift Sports has to give, hope. The promise of possibility. So I am not bitter--rather, I'm proud of my team for their accomplishments. And I tell them, thanks. Thanks for the work, the heart, the class.

But the game is over. No words can erase the loss, or mitigate it. I wouldn't want them to. There is something totally pure about Sports in that there is only one thing that matters, and it is now. This play. What happens in this moment. What actually happens may not be pure--it may be ungraceful, poorly executed, or unsportsmanlike. But that it, and only it, matters... That is pure.

Sports is about the eternal present on the field, in the play, among the players. It is authentically objective, even if the objective fact is obscured by the speed of execution. It is an allegory of the human experience, where the past may inspire or may goad, the future is the stuff of dreams and nightmares, but the present is all that matters. Is it positive or negative? Does it achieve or fail? Does it advance the cause or not? Whatever the answer, it matters.

This moment matters. This moment begs us, like each minute of play, in each sport, to rise to the occasion. Each moment is a chance to shine, to anticipate and focus, to do something that answers the call of that moment.

And now that game is in the books. A new moment is upon us. How do we respond to this moment?

Sports arouses us. Brings us in. Illustrates the manifest importance of each moment. We hope our sports avatars meet each moment well--perhaps perfectly. But they are just avatars. Their successes are not ours, and neither are their failures. They only represent what we want for ourselves.

So how do we meet our moments?

The Ol' College Try

The New Year has dawned, and the Month of Resolutions has begun. I don't know where the idea of the New Year's Resolution began, and it doesn't really matter. It ties in nicely with the idea of celebrating the good of the previous year--or it's end, depending on your perspective--and getting a 'clean slate' for the upcoming year. Of course, all this resolution is a mixed bag: I see friends complaining that the gyms will be more crowded, which seems to emphasize the difference between physical health and moral health. I mean, a crowded gym is inconvenient, but isn't better if all people are physically healthy and not just you? But between the jokes and the guilt, I wonder (as I always do) what my resolution(s) should be.

When I was young, idealistic, and vain, I resolved to develop six-pack abs or the ability to dunk a basketball. Now those who know me might argue that I'm still idealistic and vain, and I know that I can at least get to a point where I can dunk a basketball, given unlimited hours in the gym and perhaps a specialized strength and conditioning coach. But those kinds of goals simply don't seem all that important anymore. Frankly, I'm more interested in still being able to fit in my pants by the New Year in 2014, and perhaps avoid any more cavities. But those are sad little resolutions. I'm not sure I want to even dignify them as 'New Years Resolutions.' Such goals simply qualify as the right thing to do.

When I imagine how life could be better, I'm sorry to say that I wish I could spend more time with my wife, with my kid, with my books, and writing (while I'm on the subject, this piece you're reading is actually proving very hard to write. I'm nowhere near my main point yet, and I'm spitting out words in lurches. In fact, many of you have moved on to the next reddit link by now. But I have to give it the--wait for it--'ol' college try'). I'm sorry to say those things because I remember how I swore even five years ago that I would never be the boring person who would want schmaltzy, sentimental things for himself. I was going to be eager, exciting, and urbane forever, dammit, and no questions asked. But, providentially, I recently found this article from the New York Times. Apparently, my condition is fairly universal. I just find different things exciting these days--namely, my wife, kid, reading and writing.

Sorry if that sounds preachy. I really intended it to be more of an excuse, or at least an apologetic explanation.

And, as a side note, for any friends I may have who are getting tired of hints from their family that they (the friends) should 'settle down' and have a few kids, I'll tell you why this happens...it's because having kids is really a great deal of fun. The challenges make it more that fun, even: it's really rewarding. So are the diversions and accomplishments of the unencumbered life, certainly. But, you know, food for thought.

In any case, resolutions. The phrase, 'give it the ol' college try' pops into my head every time I think about all the resolutions hanging in the balance right now. And I wondered why that phrase came into existence. Because if you apply that to my college experience, the ol' college try would involve rather more brooding, melancholy relationships, video games, and Pabst Blue Ribbon ($1.00 per can at Corby's in those days. Yes) than is strictly consistent with an all-out effort at something.

And to answer the questions in your head, yes I do claim to have begun both the emo and hipster social perspectives way back in 2003. You're welcome, world.

Applied to many of my co-workers, the ol' college try means a lot of skipping classes, doing the minimum school work necessary, beer drinking, and seeking...ahem...companionship from the opposite sex than an effort at, well, anything. I don't mean to disparage them. They are all fantastic and dedicated Marine Officers at this point. But it's clear that the new college try means something a little different from the old.

Frankly I don't know if the blame here lies on the current generation (so you can stop wagging your fingers, baby boomers). After all, I think most young people go to college these days as a natural extension of grade and high school. Where you used to need a high school diploma to have a chance at a career, now everyone feels that you need a college diploma to have the same chance. So it is a requirement, and what most practical people do with 'requirements' is fulfill them. And I along with all of my peers fulfilled that requirement--the amount of beer consumed is irrelevant. Furthermore, with the exception of something like an engineering, biochemistry, accounting, or economics degree, the focus of study isn't really that important as well. You have an equal chance at employment with either a history or psychology degree, unless you are seeking employment in that particular field--in which case, you'll need a lot more education than is provided by an undergraduate degree.

And if the degree, not the means to getting it, is the important thing, it stands to reason that there isn't much value to the college education one receives these days. I know, I know! Before you all get angry at me, I know that it teaches independence, and I know it is a feeder into the professional world, and I know that a degree from Harvard is worth more than one from a community college (and boy, do you pay for it!). Certainly a student who is hard-working enough to get accepted to Harvard and graduate is probably more likely to be a hardworking employee than one who graduates from the nearest directional state school. But because the Ivy League and it's peers are such magnet schools, and are so expensive to attend, it's difficult to tell whether a graduate bought or earned his/her degree--I mean, when a student with the money can hire any tutor and re-take the SAT as often as he/she wants (not to mention have his/her lawyer parent lobby for higher grades from his/her exclusive prep school), it muddies the water significantly. And with a associated directional state school, it's likewise difficult to tell whether the degree was earned or given out like candy.

I have many more complaints with the university system in the United States. Some of the issues that need to be addressed you can find here, but I certainly don't endorse the article. I just offer it as a valuable perspective. But whatever the reason, I think the value of a university degree (at least one not technical in nature) has been devalued. And so the phrase 'the ol' college try' has become a lie. Although history shows that universities have nearly always been playgrounds for rich kids who need just a little more shelter from the world, the academic reputation of the university was generated in the understanding that to go there and be successful, you had to really put forth effort. In the 19th Century, Harvard degrees really meant that the graduate had some kind of character--the ability to think clearly and logically, the ethics to follow through on ideas and thoughts, and the determination to achieve the highest measure of success possible. State schools weren't really comparable--they taught technical skills (such as Agriculture and Mechanics, or A&M). But a graduate from those schools was known to be extremely proficient in their chosen skill, someone who could solve technical problems and oversee technical tasks. They had the same character of being a clear and logical in their approach to their profession, both ethical and dedicated in the application of their skill. That character was earned because Universities, whether academic or technical, were hard to attend and maintained high standards academically and morally of their students. To have graduated one of those institutions, well, it really put you in elite company. It meant that you could really do something. See here for more explanation.

Giving something 'the ol' college try' by that perspective meant pursuing it will all the character, ethics and determination of a college graduate. It meant giving it your all--not just effort, but initiative and intelligence as well. It meant that you were certain to succeed, for if you didn't (i.e. a college graduate wouldn't have succeeded in your place) then the task in question was impossible.

But alas, between the exponential growth of colleges and universities at the college and state level and the grade inflation permitted by institutions that prefer the extra money coming in with more students to their academic integrity, it just doesn't mean much to have attended college any more. It means you've done the minimum. Sure, if your degree is from an Ivy League School or the equivalent then it means more than a degree from a low-tier state school. But it certainly doesn't mean enough to make the phrase 'the ol' college try' mean what it used to.

So if I have one serious resolution this year, it's to give my life the real ol' college try. The one that involves doing things wholeheartedly. And I think if I can do that I will probably not only still fit into my pants come 1 January 2013, but I'll be closer to my family, better read, and writing a lot more.

That's exactly the kind of life I want.