Wonder and Awe

One of the most terrible losses man endures in his lifetime is not even noticed by people, much less mourned. Which is astonishing, because what we lose is in many ways one of the essential qualities that sets us apart from other creatures. I’m talking about the loss of the sense of wonder that is such an integral part of our world when we are children. However, as we grow older, that sense of wonder shrinks from cosmic to microscopic by the time we are adults. Kids say ‘Wow!’ all the time. Opening their mouths fully, their eyes light up with genuine awe and glee. The word emanates not so much from a voice box as from an astonished soul that has once again been shown that the world is full of amazing unexpected things. When was the last time you let fly a loud, truly heartfelt ‘WOW?’ Not recently I bet. Because generally speaking wonder belongs to kids, with the rare exception of falling madly in love with another person, which invariably leads to a rebirth of wonder. As adults, we are not supposed to say or feel Wow, or wonder, or even true surprise because those things make us sound goofy, ingenuous, and childlike. How can you run the world if you are in constant awe of it?… The human heart has a long memory though and remembers what it was like to live through days where it was constantly surprised and delighted by the world around it.

No Looting in Japan

This may be Foot-in-Mouth time, but here goes: Respect to the Japanese: no looting.

In New Orleans people were grabbing big screens and liquor out of store fronts (and backs) at this point in their disaster, whereas the Japanese are dropping super market prices and making vending machines free so that basic needs are covered. Everyone will draw their own conclusions here, largely supporting their respective world views… no doubt partially in reflection of a homogeneous vs. multi-cultural society… and how it always seems to be “those” people that act a certain way.

It seems like in the US the opportunity to make money off media content that says “those people are screwing you” is rending the social fabric beyond repair. If a network can sell air time to advertisers while the “news” tells you that it’s us-against-them it won’t go well for long. Japan does not have wing-nut television. In the absence of perceived disenfranchisement there exists a feeling of social connectivity and responsibility for one another.

Food for thought.

The Egg

I know, I know… least consistent blogger in the world.

Bobby Solomon posted this story found over at  You Might Find Yourself, an incredible Tumblr written by a guy from SF who works at Timbuk2.  I don’t usually go in for maudlin spiritual stuff, but this one had a Jonathan Carroll vibe to it that I like a lot… Enjoy:

The Egg

You were on your way home when you died. It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and three children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off. Trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point mincing words.

“There was a…a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup.” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies.” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me.

“What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup.” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said. “What about them? Will they be alright?”

“That what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Some vague authority figure. More of a grammar school teacher then the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was going through a dry spell. If it’s any consolation she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah, so the Hindus were right.”

“All the religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.” You followed along as we strolled in the void.

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So whats the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.” I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic then you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part or yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had. “You’ve been a human for the last 42 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for longer, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh lots. Lots and lots. And into lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 A.D.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” You pondered.

“Oh sure!” I explained. “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there’s others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there but you honestly wont understand.”

“Oh.” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, could I have interacted with myself at some point?”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own time span you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question.” you persisted.

I looked in your eyes. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No. Just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature, and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you. And me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now your getting it.” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too.” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” you said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “You were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa.” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”

“So the whole universe,” you said.

“It’s just…” “An egg of sorts.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.” And I sent you on your way.

So try and be nicer to yourself. Have a nice day.

Dubai

It’s been a long week in Dubai, and rarely have I disliked a place this much. It is impressive, there is no doubt about it. In the last five years they have built a hundred skyscrapers, each fifty floors tall. One of them, the Burj Khalifa, is the tallest building in the world. Everything here is a superlative – Dubai has the largest mall, the biggest aquarium with the most species, the oddest-shaped man-made islands, and more high-end sports cars than a teenage boy can fantasize about. In fact, Dubai has everything. The people who live here insist on pointing out that anything is available, all the time, and that the things you can buy in New York or Paris are available here, too… around the clock!

But is completely meaningless. Dubai is an orgy of consumption, with no production other than banking products tailored for converting Arab oil revenue in leveragable assets, and real estate projects that need to be syndicated to hapless fund managers and small time investors. More than any other place in the world, people seem to define themselves by what they buy, because there is virtually nothing else to do.

There isn’t a single sidewalk. It is virtually impossible to get from one area to the next without taking a car. “Knowledge Village” may be next to “Internet City” but you can’t walk from one to the other without taking your life into your hands amongst untrained drivers in high-powered vehicles. When you get there, be it the Jumeirah Beach Resort walk, the Marina bay, or the Financial District, you can spend time in architecturally wonderful plazas. But to me they are unbearable, because the giant air conditioning intake vents and heat exchangers are built at ground level, and there is a constant loud din that builds up a tension in your mind and body. You don’t become aware of the noise until you step inside and suddenly experience silence.

The building boom continues, and Dubai seems too big to fail. The projects will continued to be financed, and there is a tacit agreement to keep the Emirate humming because the investment banks and other service providers have too much at stake to let the place go. There is an inevitability to it. Everyone assumes the oil will run out sooner or later, and they will disengage just in time… let’s just not rock the boat while fees can still be generated.

Dubai is built on the backs of foreigners, and there are clear tiers of importance. There are the Gulf Arabs of course, who are the only ones allowed to own anything. They walk with a swagger through crowded malls, and drive in a seemingly constant state of road rage. Next are the Expats from Europe and the United States who enjoy the tax free environment, career opportunities, and cheap staff. Right behind them come the economic and intellectual refugees from the failing Arab countries – the Lebanese, the Syrians, and wherever else incompetent dictators or violent Fundamentalists make like intolerable.  There are smiling subservient Philippinos and Indians who have jobs in the service sector and cater to the Expats in clubs, restaurants, and around the offices. And then there are the Bangladeshis, Pakistanis, and Africans who do the manual labor, without any social net. Construction continues 24 hours a day, and the thermometer only goes to 49 degrees Celsius (120 F) because above that no one has to work… officially. But God forbid they break a leg or slip a disk, there is no quality health care, or paid time off.

Dubai encourages businesses to hire people from other poor countries to come here and work. They have them sign contracts that are a decade long and then take their passports.  Even though taking passports is officially illegal, the government knows it happens and does nothing to enforce the law. These poor people are promised a certain pay, but the companies neglect to tell them they will be deducting their cost of living from their paychecks, leaving them virtually penniless – that is, if they choose to pay them.  Companies hold back paychecks for months at a time. When the workers strike as a result, they are jailed. Protesting is illegal, but apparently this is one law that is actually enforced.

These people will never make enough to buy a ticket home and even if they do, they do not have their passports.  They live crammed in portables with many others, in highly unsanitary conditions. The kicker: they are building hotels that cost more to stay in for one night than they will make in an entire year. Things are so bad that a number of laborers are willing to throw themselves in front of cars because their death would bring their family affluence in the form of diya, blood money paid to the victim’s family as mandated by the government.

The laws are applied unevenly, and several people who live here have told me there is no point in contesting anything if an Arab is involved. If there’s a fender bender in traffic, guess who’s fault it is? And a Bangladeshi’s life is cheaper in a car accident than a camel. The replacement cost of the camel is higher than the money you’d have to pay to the dead man’s family… if he has one that can be located back in his country.

If this place disappeared tomorrow, and everyone simply had to walk home, there would a be a big collective shrug. This place has no soul, and very few would truly mourn its disappearance. But in the mean time it remains the Victoria Falls of the oily River Nile, a breath-taking stop close to the source of all the petroleum wealth, and everyone who can get a piece will participate. But we’ve seen the bankers and the accountants, and most don’t know when the bubble is over. They won’t get out in time, and let’s just hope they don’t pull us down with them.

350!

Another fun protest! Saturday the 24th of October is the International Day of Climate Action, and all over the world people will be raising awareness for the number 350, which… well, read the mission, freshly pasted from the 350.org website:

350.org is an international campaign dedicated to building a movement to unite the world around solutions to the climate crisis–the solutions that science and justice demand.

Our mission is to inspire the world to rise to the challenge of the climate crisis—to create a new sense of urgency and of possibility for our planet. Our focus is on the number 350–as in parts per million, the level scientists have identified as the safe upper limit for CO2 in our atmosphere. But 350 is more than a number–it’s a symbol of where we need to head as a planet.

To tackle climate change we need to move quickly, and we need to act in unison—and 2009 will be an absolutely crucial year.  This December, world leaders will meet in Copenhagen, Denmark to craft a new global treaty on cutting emissions. The problem is, the treaty currently on the table doesn’t meet the severity of the climate crisis—it doesn’t pass the 350 test.

In order to unite the public, media, and our political leaders behind the 350 goal, we’re harnessing the power of the internet to coordinate a planetary day of action on October 24, 2009.  We hope to have actions at hundreds of iconic places around the world – from the Taj Mahal to the Great Barrier Reef to your community – and clear message to world leaders: the solutions to climate change must be equitable, they must be grounded in science, and they must meet the scale of the crisis.

If an international grassroots movement holds our leaders accountable to the latest climate science, we can start the global transformation we so desperately need.

Unfortunately we are already way over 350 parts per million, which means we need to actually bring it back down – not just reduce the growth curve, actually reverse it. Check out this simple video, made without words so that everyone can understand it.

I don’t expect the onus for change to ride solely on the backs of consumers, but every little bit helps. There’s another major climate conference coming up, and hopefully people’s awareness will make it easier for leaders to come to a sensible agreement.

How can we make people aware? There are a number of activities planned in Berlin, but two sound particularly fun:

The Silent Climate Parade will be held at 2 PM in Berlin, but you have to sign up first. There’s only going to be 350 participants, each of whom will be wearing radio-connected headphones. Then these 350 protesters will make the ultimate sacrifice, which is having to listen to Dr. Motte DJ while they silently move through town… just like Love Parade 1989, I guess…

Afterward, you can join Berlin’s CarrotMob, who will be invading a willing Imbiss Bude and spending a lot of money there, in return for which the mobbed owner will voluntarily spend most of that money greening the greasy spoon. This time the “victim” will be eve&adam, which features lower-case spaceless spelling for extra coolness! Come to Rosa-Luxemburg Strasse 24-26 to be part of the fun and some really good food, whether you’re cool in real life or just on the internet.

Carrot Mob is a world-wide movement as well, take a look at their website.