Friday, September 15, 2006
Keystone cops, bureacracy, and democracy
Lately, some friends of mine were telling cop stories. You know, those funny stories we all collect about absurd encounters we have with cops investigating something at your house, breaking up a party, at the border, at the airport, etc. Generally, it involves the cops being rigid and ridiculous as they bumble around trying to accomplish something that doesn't seem all that important.
I like these stories, but I also like to keep in mind that what we are lampooning in some ways is our selves; our society at large and each and every one of us. I believe that the police, on some level, embody certain necessities in our society. That is their job, their role. I also believe that it's dangerous to embody any one social force or need in one person or type of person. I'm not a cop, and thus have little control of what cops do. I do have some say about what I and my friends do, and I have a belief, perhaps naive, that when our society is able to better embody the necessity the cops represent--order, some restrictions on who comes in and who leaves, certain types of security, etc--then the cops are free to be more human and humane. Do I believe they always take advantage of this freedom? Obviously not (and I'm sure lots of us have stories to share to support this) but, and here's the important part: I believe that cops will usually act more human and humane if they feel that's a choice.
I know this because recently, I've been put in situations where my role is to embody certain forms of necessity: schedule, safety, shelter, food for groups of people. This happens when I go on wilderness. When the group I am with is successfully able to embody these forms of necessesity, I find myself acting like a human being--by which I mean relaxed and fun to be around. When the group does not embody the necessities of the moment, if I am the only person thinking of schedule, safety, shelter, and food, then I become more rigid. I start to resemble the keystone cops of our shared stories.
It takes some faith to act as though you expect the best out of people, and if you do, there are times when you are let down. Still, it is the most powerful way to get the best out of people. So, I think we're all better off if we treat cops like they are in fact human and humane, even though it can be tempting to stonewall and denigrate them. Sometimes, you have to stonewall them or they'll abuse you, and the trick is being able to know these times when they come.
It seems to me that in democracy, bureacracy and ridiculous authoritarianism are the result of creating specific jobs to embody various necessities. I'm sure that in some cases, bureaucracy is the only effective way of dealing with the incredible organizational complexity of something like the self-governance of the United States of America. It gets so complex that we forget that it is actually self-governance. I don't know where the solution lies in the bureaucracy, but I suspect it has to do with collectively embodying certain necessities so that the bureaucracy doesn't have to. I'll leave it at that.
I like these stories, but I also like to keep in mind that what we are lampooning in some ways is our selves; our society at large and each and every one of us. I believe that the police, on some level, embody certain necessities in our society. That is their job, their role. I also believe that it's dangerous to embody any one social force or need in one person or type of person. I'm not a cop, and thus have little control of what cops do. I do have some say about what I and my friends do, and I have a belief, perhaps naive, that when our society is able to better embody the necessity the cops represent--order, some restrictions on who comes in and who leaves, certain types of security, etc--then the cops are free to be more human and humane. Do I believe they always take advantage of this freedom? Obviously not (and I'm sure lots of us have stories to share to support this) but, and here's the important part: I believe that cops will usually act more human and humane if they feel that's a choice.
I know this because recently, I've been put in situations where my role is to embody certain forms of necessity: schedule, safety, shelter, food for groups of people. This happens when I go on wilderness. When the group I am with is successfully able to embody these forms of necessesity, I find myself acting like a human being--by which I mean relaxed and fun to be around. When the group does not embody the necessities of the moment, if I am the only person thinking of schedule, safety, shelter, and food, then I become more rigid. I start to resemble the keystone cops of our shared stories.
It takes some faith to act as though you expect the best out of people, and if you do, there are times when you are let down. Still, it is the most powerful way to get the best out of people. So, I think we're all better off if we treat cops like they are in fact human and humane, even though it can be tempting to stonewall and denigrate them. Sometimes, you have to stonewall them or they'll abuse you, and the trick is being able to know these times when they come.
It seems to me that in democracy, bureacracy and ridiculous authoritarianism are the result of creating specific jobs to embody various necessities. I'm sure that in some cases, bureaucracy is the only effective way of dealing with the incredible organizational complexity of something like the self-governance of the United States of America. It gets so complex that we forget that it is actually self-governance. I don't know where the solution lies in the bureaucracy, but I suspect it has to do with collectively embodying certain necessities so that the bureaucracy doesn't have to. I'll leave it at that.
Why my blog sucks
OK, I'm sort of new and wading out here, but I, like many other bloggers, need to acknowledge that I suck at this. For evidence, I suggest you check out Indexed which was basically the first "Blog of Note" that Blogger ever showed me. This is so much better than what I, and so many other people are doing which is basically, just writing without organization, clarity, or sense of personal boundaries.
I feel as though I ought to go back to the drawing board, or write these things offline for a year or something until it can be good. There are those people who are truly experimenting with a new media succesfully; finding, as in the case of indexed, a way of communicating with an audience that would never have been found before. Most of us are just sharing snippets of our diary. This is not to say we should stop, because for most of us, nobody's reading anyway, so we're not really hurting anybody. But perhaps we ought to be working on a new aesthetic of lean communication, now that we're all a little famous.
I feel as though I ought to go back to the drawing board, or write these things offline for a year or something until it can be good. There are those people who are truly experimenting with a new media succesfully; finding, as in the case of indexed, a way of communicating with an audience that would never have been found before. Most of us are just sharing snippets of our diary. This is not to say we should stop, because for most of us, nobody's reading anyway, so we're not really hurting anybody. But perhaps we ought to be working on a new aesthetic of lean communication, now that we're all a little famous.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
today I move
I've moved so many times that I have no more emotional connection the process. I could barely wake up this morning. I don't feel stressed. I'd like to be out in 7 hours, but I'm not even moving right now. Maybe part of the thing is that this is going to be stretched out over a couple of weeks.
One discipline that has served me well: Don't move more than you can fit in your car. This has been enforced on my be economic necessity in years past, and now that I could probably afford to rent a truck or something, I've found I like the discipline. Fit it all in your car, tie it to the top, give it away, sell it, or throw it away. Those are the choices. That is what I'll be up to today.
One discipline that has served me well: Don't move more than you can fit in your car. This has been enforced on my be economic necessity in years past, and now that I could probably afford to rent a truck or something, I've found I like the discipline. Fit it all in your car, tie it to the top, give it away, sell it, or throw it away. Those are the choices. That is what I'll be up to today.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Taking time off
I've been taking a lot of time off work lately. This is easy enough because I'm self employed. I believe in work in general, but now, I'm preparing to move from Maine to Virginia. It's important to take some time to enjoy Maine. Thus, I turned Labor Day weekend into a four day. I wish I took this kind of weekend more often.
On Friday morning, I met my friend Justin at 5:30 in the morning in Kennebunk. I live in Portland, so I had to get up and drive south for a half hour to meet Justin who had been driven up from Boston by his wife (many thanks to Elsa). We bade goodbye to Elsa and drove North for about four hours until we arrived at Otter Cliffs on Mt. Desert Island. Otter Cliffs is technically part of Acadia National Park, but The Wise never pay the park entrance fee. Otter Cliffs is the reason I climb rocks. Three years ago, my buddy Mike and I drove up from mid-Coast Maine to Otter Cliffs for 24 hours where Justin, Elsa, and our friend Chris introduced us to rock climbing. Since then, I've wanted to go rock climbing whenever possible, which apparently isn't really all that much.
The point to me of rock climbing is thus: Otter Cliffs in an incredibly beautiful place that one is drawn to. You drive by, park in the parking lot, and walk out to these 40 foot cliffs with the blue green ocean crashing on the rocks below. You look out at lobster boats who must lay claim to the most aesthetically compelling territory of any fishermen. You take a couple of pictures and get back in your car, because what else is there to do? Not much. You'd like to spend the whole day there, but you'll just yawn it away, unless you are more lazy or zen like then I am.
Steinbeck says that an action taken must have a design or the human mind shies away from it. This is true enough for somebody with a manic personality like mine. Rock Climbing becomes that purpose. It is challenging, scary, fun, exciting, and it has a depth to it. It's educational and you come away with a better sense of yourself. More about this later, maybe. The point is, you sort of feel like you're getting shit done and the beauty and grandeur of Otter Cliffs sort of seeps into you throughout the day. You fall off the rock, hang there on the rope for a minute, and watch a herring gull eat a crab. You are waiting for your buddy to tie in and you watch a lobsterman check his trap, through some unwanted lobster into the ocean, and keep a few. (I'm not sure the lobsterman feels this as an aesthetic experience. He just made ten bucks, but on the other hand, I think he does or he wouldn't be fishing lobster for a living 50 feet off otter cliffs. In any case, there is definitely an aesthetic and spiritual value to fishing the sea for me, the viewer). Before too long, you have spent the day at Otter Cliffs, and you have developed an intimate connection with a few parts of the cliffs. The parts you climbed; or more accurately, tried to climb, slipped, stared at, sweared at, laughed at, and, in some cases, managed to clambor over. It doesn't feel like you're triumphing over the rock. It feels more like the rock (like Jesus) is waiting for you to take one step towards climbing it correctly, so it can take three steps to getting you to the top. In the end, triumph and affection towards the rock.
The day finished with an evening drive back to Portland, a sound sleep, and a 7AM wake up. I woke up at 7 so I could pack for a two night hiking trip to the Bigelows with Beatrice. The weather forecast called for rain, and we were getting a late start, but we made the right decision and went on the trip. It's hard to explain the value of hiking all day in the rain and cold--perhaps another time--but it has to do with putting yourself in a position where your only choice is to endure. So we endured some bad weather, appreciated the relatively clear and warm times, hiked over the grandeur of Mt. Bigelow and managed to make it all work well. It speaks well for the Bigelows that I usually try not to go there (too obvious) and still have found myself backpacking there 4 times over the last 5 years. And really, you can't go wrong. The Bigelows have everything you would want to hike in Maine. You start out in the flat wide hardwood trail. At a certain point, you start going up. Then, you start going up more. Then, you start having to use your hands and think hard about how you are going to get around that next rock. Pretty soon, you're breathing hard and you find that you are surrounded by short balsam firs. You know you're near the peak but wait, that's not a peak! It's a false peak. This happens about eight more times and then, you're on the peak. It would be glorious except that's where all the wind wants to be, and it's wet and cold, and you can't see shit, so onward christian soldiers. The Bigelows provide this about four times in two days which is pretty right on.
And so, that was my four day weekend. Back to work jackass.
On Friday morning, I met my friend Justin at 5:30 in the morning in Kennebunk. I live in Portland, so I had to get up and drive south for a half hour to meet Justin who had been driven up from Boston by his wife (many thanks to Elsa). We bade goodbye to Elsa and drove North for about four hours until we arrived at Otter Cliffs on Mt. Desert Island. Otter Cliffs is technically part of Acadia National Park, but The Wise never pay the park entrance fee. Otter Cliffs is the reason I climb rocks. Three years ago, my buddy Mike and I drove up from mid-Coast Maine to Otter Cliffs for 24 hours where Justin, Elsa, and our friend Chris introduced us to rock climbing. Since then, I've wanted to go rock climbing whenever possible, which apparently isn't really all that much.
The point to me of rock climbing is thus: Otter Cliffs in an incredibly beautiful place that one is drawn to. You drive by, park in the parking lot, and walk out to these 40 foot cliffs with the blue green ocean crashing on the rocks below. You look out at lobster boats who must lay claim to the most aesthetically compelling territory of any fishermen. You take a couple of pictures and get back in your car, because what else is there to do? Not much. You'd like to spend the whole day there, but you'll just yawn it away, unless you are more lazy or zen like then I am.
Steinbeck says that an action taken must have a design or the human mind shies away from it. This is true enough for somebody with a manic personality like mine. Rock Climbing becomes that purpose. It is challenging, scary, fun, exciting, and it has a depth to it. It's educational and you come away with a better sense of yourself. More about this later, maybe. The point is, you sort of feel like you're getting shit done and the beauty and grandeur of Otter Cliffs sort of seeps into you throughout the day. You fall off the rock, hang there on the rope for a minute, and watch a herring gull eat a crab. You are waiting for your buddy to tie in and you watch a lobsterman check his trap, through some unwanted lobster into the ocean, and keep a few. (I'm not sure the lobsterman feels this as an aesthetic experience. He just made ten bucks, but on the other hand, I think he does or he wouldn't be fishing lobster for a living 50 feet off otter cliffs. In any case, there is definitely an aesthetic and spiritual value to fishing the sea for me, the viewer). Before too long, you have spent the day at Otter Cliffs, and you have developed an intimate connection with a few parts of the cliffs. The parts you climbed; or more accurately, tried to climb, slipped, stared at, sweared at, laughed at, and, in some cases, managed to clambor over. It doesn't feel like you're triumphing over the rock. It feels more like the rock (like Jesus) is waiting for you to take one step towards climbing it correctly, so it can take three steps to getting you to the top. In the end, triumph and affection towards the rock.
The day finished with an evening drive back to Portland, a sound sleep, and a 7AM wake up. I woke up at 7 so I could pack for a two night hiking trip to the Bigelows with Beatrice. The weather forecast called for rain, and we were getting a late start, but we made the right decision and went on the trip. It's hard to explain the value of hiking all day in the rain and cold--perhaps another time--but it has to do with putting yourself in a position where your only choice is to endure. So we endured some bad weather, appreciated the relatively clear and warm times, hiked over the grandeur of Mt. Bigelow and managed to make it all work well. It speaks well for the Bigelows that I usually try not to go there (too obvious) and still have found myself backpacking there 4 times over the last 5 years. And really, you can't go wrong. The Bigelows have everything you would want to hike in Maine. You start out in the flat wide hardwood trail. At a certain point, you start going up. Then, you start going up more. Then, you start having to use your hands and think hard about how you are going to get around that next rock. Pretty soon, you're breathing hard and you find that you are surrounded by short balsam firs. You know you're near the peak but wait, that's not a peak! It's a false peak. This happens about eight more times and then, you're on the peak. It would be glorious except that's where all the wind wants to be, and it's wet and cold, and you can't see shit, so onward christian soldiers. The Bigelows provide this about four times in two days which is pretty right on.
And so, that was my four day weekend. Back to work jackass.
