Allan G. Hunter's Blog, page 82

Watch what you say…..

The recent shooting of U.S. Rep Gabrielle Giffords has prompted a number of questions about whether the inflated rhetoric of Tea Party members and people like Sarah Palin have contributed to the sort of violence that…. blah, blah, blah.

Do we really need to ask this question?

Sure, there are other factors, such as the economic disaster created by the Republicans that has led to rage and despair, as well as violence in our communities.  There's the general disrespect that ordinary Americans are subjected to by their politicians (Tom Delay has just been sentenced to three years for money laundering; money that was used to redistrict election constituencies to benefit the Republicans, who happened to win that national election) for example. And we could add to these.

I've no doubt that we will see in the coming days all sorts of posturings and counter posturings by the parties that attempt to show that someone or no one is to blame.

But here's the point: political speech does have an effect.  Hate speech does create more hate.  We know this. Yet corrupt actions are a form of political hatred, also, since they seek to hurt others. Is that what we deserve in this country? More hate? Delay was carried away by his own self-talk that said that he was allowed to break the rules because his party deserved that advantage, and the others didn't, and he's no different from that misguided young man with a Glock 9 mm who felt he was above the law, also. He was reloading to shoot another clip of 33 bullets when he was tackled, notice.

There's no such thing as 'empty rhetoric'. All those words can hurt. And they all produce an effect on the impressionable.

The Ads….

I've been watching the ads on tv – perforce. I'm sure you understand that I'm not so far gone that I simply sit there and scan for ads and nothing else. Good. Well, there's one that annoys me more than usual. A man with a bald head and prominent nose is advised by his Fidelity retirement fund person, a charming black woman, and he sets off down the road following the green dot which creates a green path. His path to successful retirement, evidently. As he walks along he passes a showroom full of speedy sports cars, pauses, looks longingly — until he sees the black lady giving him 'a look'; whereupon he smiles and continues on his way, slightly splay-footed, slightly obsolete-looking.

Now I know the symbolism is supposed to be 'stay on the path for a successful retirement'. But watching it I see this hapless older gent going down the path to death, passing up any opportunity for fun and hell-raising along the way. It's responsible, yes. But it's barely alive.

Perhaps it's time to stop worrying about our retirement and our investments and the oh-so-fragile future. Perhaps it's time to be here, now.

The King's Speech

It's a movie that's likely to gather a whole raft of Oscars and awards, and yet it won't be because it's simply a British costume drama with plenty of big name actors. Yes, it is a treat to watch Colin Firth, Helena Bonham-Carter and the rest, but the real appeal of this movie lies deeper.

Imagine a king, who doesn't want to be one because he has a speech impediment. Then imagine that this king is forced to lead a nation against the most insanely eloquent, persuasive, evil foe of modern times — Adolf Hitler.

Oh yes, it's a movie about a man learning confidence; it's about finding one's authentic voice, and about accepting one's role, however difficult.  But it's also a reminder that is very twenty-first century. The person who speaks and provides the best display is not always either honorable, just, right, or sane. He's just better at a specific kind of game. The media, our slick and successful practitioners of the glib and oily art, would do well to remember that.

The Staffordshire Hoard

I watched an interview with the gentleman who discovered the vast gold and silver depository of Anglo-Saxon ornaments that is now called 'The Staffordshire Hoard'. An amateur metal detectorist, he went onto a field that had been examined many times before, with no results, only to stumble upon some 1600 pieces of priceless treasure.

What he reported, though, was that it felt 'uncanny' and 'frightening' the way he would find piece after piece of jewelry. He felt like he was being led, used by some force that caused him to know exactly where to look, when the objects had been in the soil for 1300 years. It seems some items were so close to the surface they could have been found without a detector at all.

What interested me was this man's character. This down-to-earth, slightly paunchy Englishman, who enjoyed electronics and other very precise things that have to do with moving within rules — he was having a lot of trouble coping with this extraordinary experience.

What do we do when something happens that throws all our usual understandings of life out of the window? How do we react? And to what extent do our ideas about what is 'usual' get in the way of what actually is?

Blue Santa

This is the 'Blue Santa' I was referring to a few posts ago.  He was produced in Akron Ohio, in the late 1800s, and modern copies are available from www.bluesanta.us, every bit as lovely as this one. In 1931 Coca-Cola hijacked this image and replaced it with the red-faced buffoon we presently have to deal with, decking him out in their own colors.  At around the same time we get all that nonsense of the reindeer, the elves, and Rudolf with his red nose. Several hundred years of symbolism and myth were destroyed with the same sort of efficiency we currently see in such endeavors as mountain-stripping for coal. In each case a wasteland is left behind.

Thank you, Karen, for prompting me on this.  I love Christmas, but I cringe at crass commercialization and exploitation of what is beautiful, enduring and holy.

A Heartfelt 2011 Greeting

Here's wishing you all, dear readers, a magnificent 2011.

And just to remind us all — the year will send us all exactly what we need, even if it's not what we expect or want. The challenge is the same as always: to identify the good in everything and everyone, and live out of that awareness.

We have to use our hearts to do that.

Life's a Lottery

Confession: every so often I buy a lottery ticket. I tend to keep it in my pocket, rumpled and creased, long after the drawing has passed and gone. I'm in no hurry to check the numbers.

What I've noticed is this: for as long as I don't check that I have, once again, chosen precisely the wrong numbers I am infected with real lightness of heart. I know I won't win, but I still feel that lift, that sense of possibility. It helps me work, I've discovered, even though I know it's a delusion. It's like the effect of a sunny spring day on the stock market (which has a tendency to rise at such times) except I can afford this little diversion any time I need it.

It's cheaper than aspirin, and more effective.

And now, perhaps as a result of this, I find myself more readily able to contact optimism than before. I laugh at myself more. After all, optimism is the hope that something statistically unlikely will turn out just fine.

I still don't understand this. I just know that it works, at least for me.

Everybody bundles up their kids….

…crams them in the car and heads off to shop, or wherever. It's convenient. It's what you do if you have kids.

But think for a moment. Not so long ago when Mom went out shopping with the kids they had to hold her hand, or a sibling's hand, and go walking down the street.

How quaint.

But what, do you think, were the lessons learned by those children fifty and more years ago?

They learned to listen to Mom. They learned to stick together, watch out for each other, cars, stray dogs, and creepy people. They learned to observe real human interactions, up close. They learned about walking longer distances than from one end of the mall to the other. And probably they learned other things.

Now they get put in a steel and glass bubble called a mini-van, are told to watch the video on the tiny screen, and learn…. other things?

Think about that.

Peace, Peace, Peace

Think about that. Peace, real peace. Without it nothing can last. Without peace nothing much can grow straight and true. We can all access love; what it won't do is show us its true power, unless it can find peace in which to grow.

Peace exists - but only in our hearts in this strange world of ours. Bring peace to you hearts. Then watch everything grow.

Blue Santa - Hijacked by Coca-Cola

I have, on my mantelpiece, a wonderful little blue-gray Santa. He was manufactured before Coca-Cola hijacked the Santa image and turned him into the red-faced buffoon we know nowadays, clad in the Coca-Cola colors.

This blue St. Nicholas is far more thoughtful looking, slightly solemn, and much more in keeping with the spirit of winter and inward reflection than the chubby creature we seem to have around these days. The modern santa suggests that everything can be solved by scattering toys over the land, regardless of anything. The blue santa, however, reminds us of another way of reviewing our lives. He radiates quiet gratitude, and has very little to do with bags of gifts, workshops, the North Pole, elves, and the reindeer.

Are you going to let the ad executives at Coca Cola tell you what's important in your life?