As a small child I remember that as soon as the sun descended, which it did very early in our bleak winter months, everything turned black. Now I do not mean the black that presently covers our cities in the evening: that grayish fuzziness with some blurry illumination in the distance. This was real black, a color devoid of color: a dark hue that was unfathomable to a young boy – perplexing and meaningless. Into this fell the stars, the brilliant stars. The heavens were aglow at night: endless and terrifying, oh but so alluring. One only had to step into our large backyard to be propelled upward into the heavens.
As the rain pelts down and we approach the fall, I always marvel at the magnificence of the natural environment in Taiwan. The Portuguese aptly called our island home Ilha Formosa or “beautiful island.” I have spent some time on the east coast of Taiwan and the experience of the morning mist that often covers the flora and fauna is indelible. I am reminded of the west coast of Vancouver Island, in Canada, where I grew up, and its attendant primordial forest. In our industrialized world, this access to the living world, however, is more and more difficult to achieve on a day-to-day basis. We have become separated from nature to our great disadvantage. I am always slightly discomforted when people kill cockroaches. I am not a vegetarian; but, I believe that all life has value. This creature must be here for a reason. Why kill it when we could redirect its efforts by sealing food containers, and the like, in our home or place of business? Cockroach-like fossils have been dated to at least 300 million years. I like the Occam’s Razor approach. (1) Gaia puts nothing here that is not necessary. Continue reading Our Reality→
We are always told that we must follow certain moral precepts if you want to lead an honorable and successful life: but is that true? I believe that it is. However there are two divergent, distinct paths that lead to evil and immorality, the one consciously committed and the other one of ignorance: the sins of commission and omission.
I am always very impressed when I hear stories of forty and fifty-year-old friendships, even more telling when these are associated with your soul mate or muse. These are rare gifts, indeed, in the conglomeration of artificial associations that define the Internet Age. Two examples: Alex Katz (b. 1927) is an American figurative artist. His oeuvre is defined by many movements – including painting, print and sculpture. He and his inspiration, Ada, married in 1958; they have a son, Vincent. In the early 1960s, influenced by the proliferation of the electronic or mass media, Katz began large-scale paintings, often with dramatically cropped faces. Ada has been the subject of over 250 portraits throughout his lifetime. She has supported and guided his career. Conversely, Anna Nicole Smith (1967-2007) dropped out of high school at age 15 and was married three years later. Her highly publicized second marriage to J. Howard Marshall resulted in speculation that she married the old man mainly for his money; he was 89 at the time of his marriage. Which relationship (friendship) would one want to have?
With our world, seemingly, in a state of chaos, according to the mass media, the questions must be posed: “How does our civilization return to a state of rationality and how do I find my personal state of peace?” Most recently, one of my students was involved in the protests against the recent government initiative to change the “thrust” of high school textbooks. (1) He is an extremely nice and thoughtful young man. I would not stylize him as seditious, but he felt that something untoward was afoot and wanted to do something about it. Due to the fact that I am a guest of Taiwan and not a citizen, I find myself in the apolitical camp. That being said, these are some of the thoughts that we discussed.
The other day, I had quite a shocking experience. I entered the bathroom to “jump in the shower” and was startled to realize that I was not alone: there was an old man with me having a shower as well. I say this, of course, ”tongue in cheek.” Still, I think it is the same for most people; life unfolds like the weaving of a tapestry or the creation of a painting. It is there to be remarked on, its various points remembered (pleasantly or not), but it is lived day by day, piece by piece. Few experience that traumatic experience that changes us forever.
I always remember having to stand in front of my class in Grade One to give a presentation on what my father did for work. This experience is still indelible some fifty-plus-years later. My memory was seared by two poignant realizations, among others: firstly, speaking publically is an uncomfortable occurrence and has to be practiced and re-practiced to achieve even a semblance of skill and secondly, not everyone has a father. In our class many, those who were mostly poor, didn’t. All encompassing was a choking sense of shyness; as I began to talk, my throat constricted and I felt as if I was going to faint. What steadied me was the visceral terror that I had of failure and its concomitant punishments, both at school and at home. This was a time of “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” The relatively modern phenomena of public emotions (think weeping with fear) and of ADHD (1) hadn’t yet been invented.
