Potiche…

… is one of those sub-titled French films I caught at the local arts cinema this morning. It was like a trip through a time machine – a light treatment of the feminism and middle-class cultural wars of the 70s (did I wear clothes like that?). It also dipped a lid to a bout of Français-obsession I had at that time – mostly from an aesthetic point of view – I liked the sound of the language and looked for opportunities to practice my high-school version of it. I haven’t said much about the film because there’s really not a lot to say – ordinary plot, ordinary storyline, ordinary acting because there’s not a lot actors can do with ordinary material.

I did enjoy the nostalgia though.

Manipulating words

3. Martin Luther King, Jr., a civil rights act...
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With Osama Bin Laden’s death, the battle for minds shifts. Do we join the cheering crowds at Ground Zero or shake our heads in lament at the sure perpetuation of a never ending cycle of violence? Social networking sites are full of debate with new alignments amongst hawks, doves and the in-betweens.

Indeed, some are asserting that truth is once again a casualty of this war of words, pointing to a viral misquote from Martin Luther King. See Out of Osama’s Death, A Fake Quotation is Born – Megan McArdle – National – The Atlantic.

Others retort, “So what – some extra words have been added – but it’s in the spirit of what MLK would say.”

In the end, more heat than light is generated. Bin Laden’s demise is a historic marker, even if symbolic. Words being expressed across the global cybersphere invariably express anguish, relief, rage, anxiety and confusion in response to arguments, statements and new releases of information. One hardly expects accuracy to be a consistent feature in such a milieu.

Those of us who craft words vocationally need to be careful however. Check sources; attribute quotes correctly; avoid non-sequiturs; pay attention to syntax – all those basic techniques that are so crucial to credible communication – even (especially) in a post-modern context.

Then some light might get in through the cracks!

Time out

Clayton’s blog today (the blog you post when not writing a blog)! This spot’s only a 15 minute drive from home, It’s Point Resolution on the Swan River at Claremont. Great place to roam around, read a few books and meditate – especially on a balmy autumn day. Might go back a few more times this week!

Melancholy optimist

In early adulthood I was fascinated with the work of Victor Frankl, holocaust survivor and author of “Man’s Search for Meaning” and logotherapy. His psychiatric practice was based on observations of those with whom he was interned in the concentration camps. Given similar opportunities to survive, some succumbed to the horrendous conditions and died of “natural causes” and others (including Frankl) not only survived, but were able to build productive lives from the ashes.

This gave me a foundational understanding of the theological concept of “hope” – not wishful thinking in some naïve Pollyanna universe, but a drive to survive and thrive in spite of dire circumstances. The much maligned Hebrew prophet, Jeremiah is probably the biblical version of Frankl. He was given the unpopular charge of warning Israel that its unjust ways during its economic “boom” time would lead to its downfall. After the nation’s population is invaded and relocated faraway in exile, Jeremiah becomes the tender voice of hope and encouragement.

Has there ever been a time in our collective history where the melancholy optimist has not played a significant role?

Clowning around

I am told that my stated childhood ambition was “to be a clown in a circus.” Upon my ordination, my mother said “I see you’ve achieved your ambition.” A devout salt-of-the-earth sort of Christian, she knew how to keep her boy from taking on airs and graces.

Today is “Holy Humo[u]r Sunday”, Risus Paschalis, God’s Joke, the Easter Laugh – the Orthodox tradition goes back to about 13th century and was part of the Roman Catholic tradition in 15th century Bavaria. It was marked by funny stories, hilarious anecdotes, folk-dancing and feasting. It marked the invitation to participate in God’s final laugh over Satan through the resurrection of Christ, a relief from the sombre and reflective season of Lent and Passion Week.

Well, I know on this side of the first Easter we celebrate resurrection every day – but it also helps to participate in the full light and shade spectrum of the divine/human drama.

My lament is to be on leave and not be taking my church through this celebration and giving full vent to my childhood ambition! My opportunity is to look around for a service to attend which just might be observing this tradition.

Happy holy hilarity!

Wisdom from the North

“Freedom from fear” could be said to sum up the whole philosophy of human rights.
Dag Hammarskjold

Another Scandinavian whose aphorisms helped mold my aspirations. Such a simple statement which, if applied to today’s bogey-monsters – asylum seekers, burqua-wearers, anyone who’s different from us – might save us millions of dollars in so-called security measures and angst. More importantly, it would create the kind of community to which I am sure we all, deep down, aspire.

A 5 year old philosopher…

Not long after I came on the scene, the comic strip Dennis the Menace was launched and the song with the same title hit the top 40, mortifying my mother, who then wished she’d named me something else. The TV series followed, along with some memorable aphorisms, such as the one climaxing this exchange between Dennis and his long-suffering next door neighbour.

Dennis: [looking at Mr. Wilson’s gold] Is that Pirate’s Gold?
George Wilson: No.
Dennis: Is it real valuable?
George Wilson: Yes.
Dennis: Is that why you keep it in your safe?
George Wilson: Uh-huh.
Dennis: [looks at Mr. Wilson’s safe with a door of fake books] How come that safe looks like books?
George Wilson: How come you ask so many questions?
Dennis: I’ve only been around for 5 years. There’s a lot of stuff I don’t know.

Soul-mates – him and me! I’ve only been around 61 years and there’s still a lot of stuff I don’t know!

Experience vs wisdom

Mahatma Ghandi was one of the first great philosophers to influence me. I was all of eight years old at the time. Another that had my adolescent brain ticking over was Søren Kierkegaard. Today’s aphorism comes courtesy of him, and though I don’t recall hearing this way back then, it resonates with a long held comprehension that runs deep:

Experience, it is said, makes a man [sic] wise. That is very silly talk. If there were nothing beyond experience it would simply drive him mad.

(The Journals of Søren Kierkegaard)

Reminds me of the applicant for a responsible position saying he had thirty years experience. Turns out he had only one year’s experience – thirty times over.

An aphorism a day keeps postaday okay…

… at least while I’m setting up a bank of vacation posts.

So let’s try…

…to accomplish great things, you must not only act but also dream, not only dream but also believe.

I can say okay to this one. It’s reverse is also true – from belief, one dreams and then acts to bring the vision to reality. On the other hand, it’s not enough to stop with the status quo of what has been accomplished. It needs to feed a new vision a new dream, a stretching of belief.

Acting your age

A magazine article catches my eye, “Amortality: why acting your age is a thing of the past”. Just click on the link and you can read the whole thing.

Once upon a time, life had a fairly predetermined trajectory – you are born, you work until you grow too frail, then you die. For most of the world, this is still the case. For many of my ilk, however there are a range of lifestyle choices, and sufficient motivation to maintain the range of options open to us for as long as we can. The fitter and healthier we are the longer we can keep these options open.

There seems to be a fine line however, between an obsessive striving to “stay young” and aging gracefully. The time of diminishment inevitably arrives as does our mortality. In my early sixties, I’m fit enough for a range of physical activities, but you won’t find me playing a full footy match or running a marathon. I’ve got a bush walk or two in mind for this week and some house maintenance that will stretch my physicality.

I guess it comes to motivation and the swing between what the spiritual abbas and amas of the desert called “accidie” (a listless, gormless submission to circumstances) and anxiety (a fearful, faithless obsession with keeping the demons at bay). Somewhere in the tension is an alert and relaxed attentiveness that is mental, spiritual and somatic.

If I strive, it is to be in that place.