EMPATHY AND WHAT IT MEANS TO ME

Going through a funeral is hard and exhausting, physically and emotionally, for everyone involved. The hardest part for me, though, was not necessarily losing my grandfather. There's a certain understanding and expectation, having a grandfather as old as mine (he was 97 when he passed) that there would come a time when he was going to die, and I was somewhat prepared for that reality. I was crushed when I first heard, but after letting that understanding sink in, I feel like I took it well (although, really, I'm not sure). The hard part, though, was spending the weekend so close to my father, who was having a tough time dealing with it, as anyone would. Every time I'd watch him hit another heavy emotional point, I'd feel it with him: the tightness in my chest, the knot in my throat. I will say that being completely helpless to do anything is the hardest thing in the world. The hardest part was the eulogy. I gave him a hug after the funeral, but it still feels so completely inadequate, even as I look back on it.

I was asked initially to speak at the funeral, to give a eulogy of my own, with my brother, but we ended up speaking at the reception. My brother and I wrote a humorous stand-up skit, so to speak, weaving together stories, jokes, and one-liners about my grandfather. Writing it and finally performing it was not as difficult as I might of thought. My whole philosophy going in was to to celebrate the life of my grandfather.

Despite what the religious would have you believe, the wake and the funeral is for the living. It is our chance to say goodbye to our beloved, to let him or her go, and to mourn our loss. Unless you really believe that these rituals NEED to be performed in order to allow the soul into heaven (which I can't buy; why would a higher power make such a small action a prerequisite for heaven? Isn't your WHOLE LIFE enough?), the rituals are for the living; they are part of the grieving process and helps move into a new stage of our lives with this person no longer present. After all this, I wanted to celebrate the long and wonderful life my grandfather had, so we told stories.

Even just telling these stories to my father made, during rehearsal, made him choke up a bit, but telling those stories, I think, was the most helpful thing I could've done. My grandfather, like anyone, goes through difficult times, and sometimes he takes it out on other people. Sometimes, he's hilarious, speaks his mind, and outgoing and good-natured. The point of telling the stories we had of him was to remember him in the best possible light, to remember the things we loved about him, and to celebrate all the wonderful things he gave us. As we went and started to put together the little routine, we got even more stories, and clarifications of stories, and we all laughed and talked about grandpa. It was like he wasn't gone, and then we finished going through it, and my dad excused himself from the room.

You suddenly realize he's gone. And that's what happened, and I felt it with him. I thought the same thing.

You go on, because you have a life to live, but it makes you realize how much more important everything really is, because everything does come to an end. Is this what you're going to want to have done?

WALL-E

Note: Possible spoilers may be written into this review/exploration. If you haven't seen the movie and want to experience its entire emotional impact, see it first, then read this.

After coming home Friday night, I convinced my family to see WALL-E with me. I know it looks like a children's movie, and in some respects, it is. However, as someone (whom I can't currently recall) put it, it is the most delightfully seditious movie aimed at children I have ever seen. On its face, it's a robotic love-story set on post-apocalyptic Planet Earth. However, the deviation comes early on, as you quickly realize that the apocalypse is man-made, and as we zoom in on the Manhatten skyline, we soon find skyscrapers made of trash, and that the entire city used to be run by a major conglomerate called BuyN'Large.

This movie is not subtle; the messages are designed so kids get it. The conglomerate is obviously reminiscent of the Wal-Marts of the world, who run the world like governments, and the portrayal of humanity as fat, lazy, and blissfully unaware of each other and the world around them seems like a comic version of the forseeable future (or at least, that's what the movie is trying to tell us). "I didn't know we had a pool!" one cries out after being shocked from her stupor by WALL-E's bumbling. Humanity doesn't even have to stand and walk; they float around on chairs, being served hand and foot by a team of robots designed to take care of their every bidding, and they communicate through computer screens that are perpetually floating in front of them. We later learn they don't even have physical contact with each other (although there are babies... go figure).

As a foil to the entirety of humanity, WALL-E is intensely curious and lonely, even as a robot. He collects things and uses our trash to create new skyscrapers (which I found... interesting; he takes our trash, things we don't want, and turns them into structures which we now revere. There's a quiet irony in that.). He represents humanity in its infancy, when the world was still bound in mystery. Compare that to the humanity that's later portrayed, more bound up in their own lives than the world around them, and it seems only fitting that WALL-E's appearance on their ship should so thoroughly disrupt their lives, from the big task of proving there is life on earth, to the rather small action of knocking a person off their chair and giving them a moment of awareness of the world around them (attending meditation classes, there was a bit of comparison between WALL-E and a Buddha of sorts, shocking people out of their "slumber," including 40 min of monk-like silence to open the movie).

Also, there's the existence of BuyN'Large, which as I stated before, runs the world like a government. In fact, no government is ever mentioned in the story; it is only this large conglomerate that provides everything. *NOTE: MAJOR SPOILER* It's amusing to note that the conspiracy that ends up preventing humanity's return to earth is engineered by the BuyN'Large CEO, who tells us that Earth has become inhospitable to life and that they can't return, duping the people into going on a "long cruise" in space. These are the types of conspiracies normally attributed to governments, and by attributing it to a company, the movie does a great job of quickly illustrating the kinds of power corporations may be gaining, as they concentrate more wealth in the hands of fewer people and superceding the power of our governments to represent their people. When a coporation engineers a conspiracy even remotely of this sort, we should all be very worried.

The movie is entertaining, even if you don't take in any of these deeper meanings. The characters are well-done, especially WALL-E and his love interest, EVE. Ultimately, the movie is an in-your-face wake-up call of what's going to happen to our planet if we don't start doing anything about it. It's a blunt social commentary, cutely wrapped up in a children's movie.

OPENING UP
The Initial Response

I had a long weekend. My grandfather died. He was very close to myself and my immediate and extended family. I'm doing a series of posts on the things I learned about myself, my family, and life in this weekend.

The first one is about opening up. I've recently been talking to a close friend of mine about whether I open up or not. She claimed initially that I don't talk to her much about some things, and I told her I don't like to burden other people with my problems. I deal, or I don't worry. It's just a matter of being able to let go of something when you can't do anything about it. She accepted that explanation.

On Friday morning, I found out via phone call that my grandfather had died, and I cried. I was sitting in my office, just trying to decide what to do with myself. I probably spent 20 min, frozen, before finally I checked the train schedule. I decided what train I was going to get on.

Then came the hard part. I couldn't figure out how I was going to get out of the office. I don't really know the people in my office too well. I tend to be quiet, sitting in the back office where I work, taking care of the projects I've been assigned. I'm not close with my co-workers yet. (As an aside, I was surprised how well all my co-workers knew each other. They were talking about each other's ex's and things like that. My co-workers rarely knew about that kind of thing, and they only did if I knew them outside of work.) My boss had left me with some stuff to work on, but he was on vacation. Normally, I would have told him and left, but I couldn't figure out who to tell. I didn't really want to tell anyone. I wanted to just get out.

And it is THAT reaction that I have been going over in my head. I know these people are nice, I like them, but I couldn't bring myself to tell them what was going on. I partly want to say that I did because I thought their sympathy and condolences would only make it worse. I just wanted to go home. I couldn't deal with people. Is this a defense mechanism, to protect myself from vulnerability? Or would it really, as I believed, have made it worse?

I don't know, and I want to, because if I am being defensive, if I'm intentionally cutting myself off from people, I want to know, and I want to do something about it to open up.

Fortunately, the story ended up well. Sparing the details, I was saved, and I just slipped out without talking to anyone. No one has said anything to me, and I like it better that way. I'm not sure if it's because they don't know or they didn't realize I left or what. I just never said anything. I came back like I never left.

It's strange. I don't know why that is. I don't know if the way I reacted was a good thing or not. Should I have protected myself? I feel like I handled my emotions much better when I could concentrate on them and face them, but when I was with people, I just want to push them aside so I don't cry. Is this a defense mechanism though? I don't know if I am just suppressing them or not.

What is this supposed to feel like?

INTERNALLY CONSISTENT "UNTRUTHS"

I started this train of thought with this idea: Buddhism claims that when you meditate, you should sit up straight. This helps the energy systems in your body flow more smoothly, which help you calm down and settles your mind. Now, science, having looked at meditation and its effect on the brain and body, has found that when you sit up straight, it settles the parasympathetic nervous system, which helps settle your mind. Both of these explanations have an action and a result, and they come up with different underlying explanations for how they work. It seems to me it could be possible to come up with two completely different systems for understanding the way the world works that would both be internally consistent but which may not be "true," if you believe in an objective truth.

Think about this, as an exercise: look at all the observable phenomena. Do you believe its possible to design a way of explaining all, or most, that goes on around you that's internally consistent and comes out with the correct effects for a given cause? I say this because any method of explaining the world, be it religion, science, a combination, or something I haven't thought it, is only going to be a useful delusion. It is an internally consistent (or sometimes, inconsistent) way of viewing the world that seems to jib with what's actually happening.

Obviously, the first thing that you have to understand is that we can never TRULY know what's actually happening. The amount of sense data our brains have to process every moment of our lives is overwhelming, and our brains throw out an unbelievably large amount of data in order to compress it all down to something we can understand. For starters, let's look at our eyes:

"Cells in the retina scrap 75 percent of the light which pours in through the lens of the eye... they fiddle with the contrast, tamper with the sense of space, and report not the location of what we're watching, but where the retinal cells calculate it soon will be... Adding insult to injury, the eye crushes the information it's already fuddled, compacting the landslide of data from 125 million neurons down to a code able to squeeze through a cable -- the optic nerve -- a mere 1 million neurons in size. On the way to the brain, the constricted stream stops briefly in the thalamus, where it is mixed, matched and modified with the flow of input from the ears, muscles, fingertips, and even sensors indicating the tilt and trajectory of the head, hands, legs, and torso." (Howard Bloom, The Global Brain, New York: Wiley (2000), p.66.)

What we think we're percieving is an illusion. It is only a small portion of "reality." Any claim to explain what is actually happening will be mediated by our bodies' ability to recieve that information and our minds' ability to process and understand that information. This is why I consider science a "useful delusion": it explains things, gives us ways of organizing and understanding information, but it is, like any other system of explanation, limited by our own inherent ability to actually understand. Buddhism claiming that it allows energy to pass easily down your spine vs. science's explanation of settling the parasympathetic nervous system are just ways of explaining our experience. It doesn't really matter why it happens because either explanation is useful for understanding. Some methods of understanding are more useful than others, but really, all I need to know is when I sit up straight, my mind feels more settled. If I believe anything more and claim its understanding, I'm just deluding myself.

It's a beautiful world. Don't you let anyone ever convince you otherwise.

THE AGONY & THE ECSTASY
Michelangelo's David

I actually got goosebumps reading today. As the title says, I'm currently reading "The Agony & the Ecstasy" by Irving Stone. It's a wonderful book, and I would definitely reccommend it to anyone. However, this is not a book review; this is my response to a particular moment it the book, a moment that resonated very strongly with me, and one that will probably resonate just as strongly with any artist, or even, anyone who creates anything for a living.

I just finished a chapter talking about Michelangelo's David, going from how he received the commission, the marble block, his sketchings, his ideas on what the statue should say. Finally, after many months of toil, he finishes the piece, there is some debate on where it should be placed in the city (Florence, where I spent 4 months studying; as an aside, this is part of why I enjoy the book. I love hearing names and places where I lived while I'm reading. It makes the book especially vivid). Finally, the statue is placed over four days of transportation, and it becomes available for viewing to the public.

When the statue went on display, crowds gathered to view it, much as they continue to do today. However, and I'm not sure if this is common practice, when this statue went on display, the people of Florence placed notes at the base of the statue of their responses to the statue. The response is overwhelming positive, although I'll leave the details of how and why to those who eventually read the book. When Michelangelo reads them, though, there is minimal description of how he actually reacted. It states he turns to the crowd, and there is a moment of wordless communication, where he intuitively understands the acceptance and love the people of Florence have for the David.

It was this moment that gave me goosebumps. Anyone who's ever created before knows what this feels like. I'm not a sculptor or painter; I have very little skill in aesthetics and visual medium. However, I know what it feels like to have your work resonate so strongly with an audience, and it wasn't until this moment that I understood that this is one of those universal phenomena.

There is NOTHING like realizing your work is loved by countless number of your audience, of feeling that intrinsic resonating when your creation works on a number of levels with many people. I'm having trouble forming the words, but I know you know what I mean. It's a beautiful thing.

Any artist is nervous when his work begins to be displayed. As a musician, there is always a moment of fear before I begin to perform. (Obviously, as you perform more, this lessons, but never completely dissipates.) You've put your heart and soul into these works. How will people react? You really have no idea. As the music progresses, you KNOW how people are reacting. You don't have to look at their faces; you don't have to look at anyone. When you are performing, you KNOW when your heart and soul is in the music. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't, and it sucks when it isn't, but you KNOW. (And people claim there's no such thing as telepathy :).)

Art is universal. I know, this is an old, tired cliche, but it's true. And this passage showed me that in the most direct way: by watching someone experience something you know you yourself have gone through. It's a beautiful thing.

I should probably go back, revisit the David after having read this. I know and understand it's beauty, but I never really felt it, never truly grasped it. I think I may be able to now.

AS MY MIND UNFOLDED
Making a List

You know how I always say, "I always feel like I have a ton of shit to do, but I have no idea what it is."? Well, I understand now why I say that. I don't have a very good memory, I've noticed. Some things that just don't surface in my day-to-day consciousness just never get done. Somehow, though, those things aren't completely forgotten.

I was getting frustrated about all the time I felt like I was wasting. I know I have things I want to, and should be, doing. I couldn't understand it, though, because I never knew what those things I "should" be doing were. Until tonight.

I was sitting around, bumming on the computer, until I finally just got fed up. I had a lot of things lying around, and I just started cleaning up all of it. And then I decided to do something that kind of amazed me: I wrote down everything I need to do. And as I thought of more things, I wrote them all down on a piece of paper. Everything from "buy deodorant" to "do environmental volunteering." I watched as my mind unfolded on a piece of paper, as all the things that had been plaguing me, subconsciously, appeared in front of me. THESE were all the things I needed to do, that were weighing me down, without me even realizing it. This is why I felt like I wasn't going anywhere, because I DO have shit to DO, but I don't always consciously know what it is.

Now, I know writing down a To Do list is nothing new, exciting or special. I was just very pleased at how well and how useful of a technique it turned out to be. I feels kind of liberating to not have to worry about keeping all those things in my head. It was amazing to watch my mind unfold on paper.

Just thought I'd share my story with you. If you feel listless and anxious, try making a list!

SUSHI CHEF AS ARTIST

I went out to sushi the other day, and I was looking at the food in front me, and I realized that the largest part of a sushi's chef energy goes towards the presentation of the food, rather than any actual preparation of the sushi to get it into an edible state. A chef has to prepare the food, cook it, turn it into something edible before it can be served. Obviously, with any chef position, there is an element of presentation, making everything appear appetizing after it has been cooked. But with sushi, there are very few dishes, if any, that require that kind of preparation. The way you cut it has some effect on the taste, but at the very core of it, a suhsi chef is an artist, putting together a work of art that encompasses all the food that you're eating. Have you ever ordered a large amount of sushi at one time with a group of people? They always come out with these wonderful, colorful platters with all the fish cut and laid out for you. I would have to imagine that the chef spends more time preparing the layout and presentation of the food than he does the actual preparing the food for consumption, because all that requires is cutting it.

This is not to say other chefs aren't artists either. There is a certain artistry requires to balance the different flavors, the same way an artist would balance colors in a painting. However, it just seems to me that no other chef spends as large a portion of time preparing the aesthetics of the meal as the sushi chef does. There is something about directly manipulating raw materials, and only raw materials, to make what amounts to a work of art that, to me, makes the sushi chef even more of artist than a chef.