A fair(y) Tale

Something for my kids or the kids in all of us.

Long Ago in Utopia
In a country full of Myopia
Without Rhyme or Reason
There was treason

Now the patriot who led the revolt
Truly was in default
Cause he saw the world through sepia
And that was bad for Utopia

At last there came a man with much love
For he did keep a lots of dove
Again unfortunately for Utopia
The king kept a cornucopia
Of cut-throat ministers
Who were all very sinister
Who in their dens
Played with lives of men

They public opinion swayed
And made the king dismayed
The king thought I must
Control the ministers’ lust

Against all odds the king deified
And had the ministers tied
He proclaimed that they had sunk low
And they must be let go
That they be cut down
In front of the whole town

So then the evil hearts would hear
And for their very lives fear
Men such as these do like to save
Themselves from an early grave
The evil doers vanished
They knew they were finished

Folks all could not hide their pleasure
At their king’s hard measure
The country now had laws fair and free
The new courtiers followed them loyally
So utopia was once again holy
The people danced in glory
And that’s the end of my Story

Exist or Live

"Let not young souls be smothered out before
They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their pride.
Not that they starve, but starve so dreamlessly
Not that they die, but that they die like sheep" (Vachel Lindsay)

Some of you may have heard about the teen sailor Abby Sunderland, she was in the news recently with her failed attempt to sail solo around the world. What stuck me in my conversations, reading articles, blogs and comments was the overall sense of disapproval. Everyone railed against the risk, the uncaring parents, the futility of the attempt, the crazy indulgence.

To many people, what she was doing at the mere age of 16 was crazy, but her brother did sail around the world at 17, and there is another 17 year old Aussie girl who is making the attempt as well. A 13 yr old boy just summited Mt. Everest a few months ago.

I have the utmost respect for the Sunderlands. Teenagers should be treated with respect and be granted the freedom to experiment and learn, provided that they have shown evidence that they possess the maturity to be trusted.

In 340, King Philip left his 16 years old son with the power to rule Macedonia in his absence as regent; the Thracian tribe rebelled and were a danger to the country. Alexander assembled an army, led it against the rebels, and with swift action defeated them, captured their stronghold, and renamed it after himself to Alexandropolis.

Just like Alexander, don’t raise anyone to prolong childhood far longer than needed. After all I don't see anyone complaining about the 16 yr models, nor even worse the 18 yr olds who are sent off to war to kill.

There are explorers and there are the folded hands types who sit on their rumps twiddling thumbs, and cry about the dangers out there in the real world. After all what age is too young to follow your dreams. And of course what age is too old? the teenage writer, the young philospher, the middle aged person who goes back to college, the homemaker who after years go back to work, the entrepreneur who leaves a cushy job to follow his dream. Everyone who walks to a different drum beat. I believe you should attempt and try everything you can in the short lives we all have.

To end, paraphrasing the words of a great and a much better writer.

The poorest way to face life is to face it with a sneer. There are many who criticize the way others do what they themselves dare not even attempt. There is no unhealthier being, no man less worthy of respect. Its despicable to look with contempt at the achievements of others, to hide from others and from themselves their own weakness.

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where someone could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasm, the great devotion; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

First Blood

So I would have to face them alone.

Even there in the depths of despair, I was honest enough to admit I did not fear the deed itself, it was the fear of not knowing how would I act, like a whimpering cowardly cur or would I face it with brave unbowed countenance.

Thus began the tale of the most dreadful challenge I faced. I should warn this is not for the faint hearted, close this page or forever suffer the consequences.

I had heard the tales of the brave knights of yore. The fabled warriors of the round table who went forth with a smile on their lips facing the most fearsome dragons and monsters. A quest from their Queen meant nothing more than a task to be simply carried out whatsoever the outcome to their own personal selves. Yet those tales did not build up my fortitude, I was but a simple commoner, yea the queen had personally asked me to take care of this small (hah!) problem. I too like the knights of old would gladly lay down my life for my queen, but what she was asking me was something infinitely worse than death.

She had summoned me to her chambers and asked if today I was ready for the one task I had never done. She said "I know you have been a faithful, loyal subject, a slave who has fulfilled my every wish, Brave Sir now I ask you the greatest sacrifice" I simply stared at her beautiful self and heard myself say "Yes My lady, whatever is thine desire".
She replied with an earnest smile “Good Sir, understand this. I do not ask you to do anything I have not done myself. Yes I do know that you know not of such things and this is an Olympian endeavor to you, but I feel true and confident about you".

I filled with pride at my fair Queen’s word, after all if she thought I was fit for this who was I to dispute.

She went on "Tonight I have to go far from the kingdom, I leave the entire future of this realm in your hands. Deep down in the dungeons await your undertaking, acquit yourself well and you will be amply rewarded” She looked deep in my eyes and said “beyond your wildest dreams”. Well I’m a pretty wild dreamer so could imagine the rewards but her next words were like splashes of cold icy water “Be aware that you have to keep your wits with you, this mission require 10 heads, 20 arms, eyes at the back of your head, a cool presence, organized thoughts, quick mind and swift tongue".Filled with trepidation at her words but unable to deny the request I simply held silent. She smiled at me pityingly as she added “Understand if you can last the day, you are safe; though known to sometimes attack at night, they are not nocturnal, but at the crack of dawn ready yourself anew for the battle”.

“I just ask you to last these two days and I will back before the moon touches the sky morrow night, so fair ye well good sir". I smiled bravely at her and asked if she had a few minutes before she left. On her affirmative answer, I walked with all my dignity to the other room, latched the door and burst into wracking sobs. God Why, Why me?

There I was alone, buffeted by circumstances; the world was not a pleasant place. Was I scared? Godammit it I was, Did I break? Did I back down? Nooo....

I readied myself and went down to face the monsters, I knew they were two of them, they hunted in ravenous pairs. I stood outside the barred door and tried to listen. My blood curdled at what I heard. I could have withstood the growling, snarling or even screaming but they were giggling!!!

They probably smelled my warm blood and knew I was near by, a tasty entrée for them. Oh God the Horror the absolute Horror!

But the deed had to be done, and I swore to myself that by all I had in me, I would do the best I could.
I took a deep breath and stepped inside and the monsters started shrieking "Papa, Papa..........”.

Pain Revisited

My last post generated a number of emails from friends/relatives commiserating with me and hoping for my quick recovery.
I thank everyone for their concern from the bottom of my heart, but to tell you all the truth I’m a wee bit embarrassed. My injuries are really trifling compared to what others have suffered and are suffering. I can imagine them reading and going “Cry baby”.

I just used the hurt shoulder as a reference point for my post without really trying to imply that it’s a devastating injury.
What I wanted to bring out was how a sickness impacts everyone, both the injured and their families. what I was seeking for - although I’m sure there have been reams of professional research on this - was to converse about how often the psychological aspects are ignored while we purely look at the physical facet.

In any case I’m quickly going to pen a new post about something entirely different so that you all realize that the injury has not incapacitated me from hounding and boring all with my attempts at writing.

I feel your Pain

A new day, A new Ramble.

I'm not old yet, but neither am I in the bloom of youth. Lately the body has finally started creaking. The latest to join the procession has been a rotator cuff tear and now for about 6 months I have not really been able to lift my arm without wincing. Although the frequent visits to the therapist and seeing others with dreadful injuries has put some perspective on the pain, but that has not stopped me from being both annoyed and annoying. Hence the raison d'être for this post - Pain and battling it.

I have a couple of dear friends who had debilitating pain which caused a sea change to their life style, they are much better now, and in a way the pain actually has helped them. They took positive proactive steps in controlling with admirable results. So outwardly it’s been a beneficial change but you need to look at their eyes when they talk about the pain to see the fear and dread which is now thankfully keeping them in the right path. Also it’s not been easy on their families to deal with a loved one in constant pain.

I recently met Bob Yarmy, a fellow pilot and a flight instructor; his story is one of immense tragedy and yet amazing resilience. Imagine a young handsome pilot, an aircraft builder, imagine his best friend (his twin brother), imagine a beautiful accomplished wife and a precocious child, imagine the world at your feet only to be shattered by an accident which result in amputation of both legs, death of your brother, followed by divorce and a losing custody battle which keeps you away from your child for 15 long years. Taking all in his stride, with immense determination he learned to walk and then fly again. Now he designs flight training courses, is back instructing and to top it all goes around kayaking deep in the ocean. What stuck me when conversing with him was that I could not detect any note of self pity and what I remember is him saying "What really helped was going to the rehabilitation center every day and seeing much more unfortunate people, I also had a good support group of friends & family and I realized I still had a lot going for me and lot to live for". Talking to a real person makes you realize the best medicine is a concoction of optimism, hope and the understanding support of people around you.

One of the greatest challenges of chronic pain/sickness is finding ways to live with others. I think loved ones have the most difficulty confronting pain. Your suffering becomes theirs, but in the face of constant suffering and their helplessness, dissatisfaction creeps in and then - maybe subconsciously - a little bit of resentment sets in. It could then trend towards judging instead of understanding, the judging in turn could lead to blame ("you did it to yourself", "you are not taking medication", "you are faking" and "the pain is in your head").

For the patient, now its easy to fall back to martyrdom and close shop, stay in your cocoon, this provides freedom from having to clarify, apologize, or feel guilty. You will no longer impose your torment on anybody else.

I guess what we really need is a common ground; a shared understanding of each other’s suffering. Pain is relative, and you can know and can experience only your pain, you may think you know what someone else’s pain feels like, but you can never really know. This is why it becomes difficult to empathize with others who are experiencing pain. Meanwhile the patient has to understand that everyone is anguished, both the patient and care giver are suffering and both need help from each other to keep up spirits. That feeling of mutual sympathy may be the best healer for all.

Of course this is my amateur understanding of pain psychology, it may be a little naïve and simplistic and I definitely want to hear other's take on this.

The Old Path

It was not love at first sight. It was not even love in the accepted sense. She could never have spent her life with me. She was from a world far removed from mine. Even though I always had and would have a certain tenderness for her. My heart did ache at the pain she went through. I rejoiced when she found happiness and I felt proud at the way she handled everything fate threw at her.

When I first saw her, she was a very young, I myself was no older. I was staying at my grandmother’s old farm house getting ready to start school after the summer. Oh what a glorious summer it was. Summers like that make life worth living. Everything was new and exiting to me. I walked all over the hills and explored the forests. I found an old path that became my own private trail. I kept it to myself and refused to share with anyone. It was my private world and all mine.
I was painfully shy and did not desire human interaction. I actually ran away whenever I saw someone approaching to avoid talking to them.
That day I just had breakfast. I was standing near the window to the backyard which led to a wide expanse of forest when I saw her. I was stuck by her walk. It was almost like a skipping dancing run, I was fascinated by the absolute joy she was having just walking. Everyone I had met seemed to busy doing something - a job to run, a place to go to, a workout to complete - but she was just walking back and forth and enjoying herself. I stared and stared and I guess she sensed it, She suddenly stopped and looked as I quickly hid behind the curtains, as I stood there she kept on searching me out with her eyes, I was a little irritated, after all she was in our backyard, she should be the one who was hiding, but as I later found out that’s the way she was - brave, extrovert, totally unafraid of anything or anyone.My grandmother came into the room and in her usual sing song tone went “don’t play with the curtains, what are you doing there?” I silently pointed to the intruder in our backyard. She glanced outside and laughed “Yes, our new neighbors, they moved in sometime last week, the little one is cute, maybe you could be friends with her, but I don’t want you bothering them till they are comfortable and settled in”. I nodded silently. I had no intention of meeting this brazen creature anyway.
A few days later I saw the whole family. The father had hair all over his face and a huge pot belly but seemed friendly in an impatient way; the mother was a small busy creature. The whole family had such a loving air around them.

The whole family helped out with dinner and household chores, they were constantly chattering and hugging each other. I thought “One of those modern liberated family”.
I would sometime hide behind the trees and watch them while the father wrestled with her and the shrieks of delight echoed all over. I watched her in the morning walking in our backyard like she owned the place. Somehow I always felt she knew I was watching.
Some time went by and one day I woke up early and went out, as soon as I saw her I started in a different direction, she in an amused fashion fell behind and followed, we never actually talked but I slowly started taking her to my secret path and showed her all over my usual haunts. The old tree stump which was my castle. The small cave where I hid my treasures; the marbles, the old brass button, the box of matches, and pictures of planes. The edge of the cliff, where I could spread my arms and pretend to fly. The little brook where I would sail my paper ships. This became our normal morning routine, she would follow me silently with her skipping walk as I showed her everything. I was happy; I had made my first friend. I had someone to share the old path with.
So the glorious summer rolled on, near the end of it my parents came back, my dad asked what I had been up to the past few months. My grandma laughed and said “well, he has a girlfriend, in his own backyard, the little rouge!” embarrassed I ran away to my room furious at her.
The next morning I got up feeling dreadful, with a sense of some impending doom. Frightened I walked out and heard my parents and grandma whispering “He is going to be devastated, he loved the whole family, lets have the remains moved out before he wakes up “
My dad whispered back “These are the facts of life, there are wicked beastly creatures out there, he needs to understand and learn”. While they argued I slowly tiptoed out and saw the dreadful truth. It was the father, his body mangled and torn, just lying there near the edge of the trees.
So the fact of living was death!
I did not see her for a few days, they mostly kept to their house, I saw her bringing food to her mother while she just lay in a corner. She did not come for our morning walks and once in a while I would catch a glimpse of her while she took care of her mother. It was obvious the mother could not get over the shock of her husband’s death, and was slipping away.
Soon it was my day to leave and as my dad loaded the jeep, I slipped out to see her for one last time. As I approached their house, the house that had seemed so full of joy and cheer, I saw her just standing outside, the visible tiredness and sadness in her face broke my heart, but even then I could not talk to her. I just walked away.
A few months later I was back for Christmas. I crossed the backyard at a run to go to their place, but the house was empty and looked like it had been that way for some time. I came back and the expression on my face made my granny cry “oh poor baby, I should have told you, the mother died a few days after you left, and your friend left after a little while”.
I went away again and years passed before I came back, it was a beautiful summer again, my granny fussed over me “you are so pale and thin, I will get good food into you, but you have to start walking the hills again to get your color back” I refused to go out though. I did not want to see my old trail, I dreaded going any place where I had walked with her, I missed my companion and oh her beautiful skipping walk. I just curled with my books and lived in other peoples’ worlds.
One particularly sunny day, I was debating whether I should stay in bed all day, when my grand mom knocked at my door and said “your girlfriend is back!”, I rushed out as my granny smiled kindly at me and whispered “Looks like she found someone, be happy for her”.
I crept out to the backyard and saw my grandma was right, there she was, a little grown up but still with the direct stare only she could have, behind her I saw two little smaller replicas of her, She proudly nudged them forward, So she had kids, I walked back and peeked at their old house and saw a strapping male there, so she had a husband. She did look happy and well.
Tears streamed down my grin as I walked up to her and chuckled “So you want to go for a walk?” it felt like she gave a little nod, and once again like those long lost summer days, I started down my old old path and she fell behind, this time with her little ones skipping excitedly behind with their bushy tails high in the air.
I knew then that there would always be someone to walk that path, for generations to come. Either mines’ or hers’, my first companion, my first love, - the brave, beautiful squirrel.

Hear You hear me

One of my favorite word is empathy. Empathy is defined as the capability to share and understand another’s emotions and feelings. I see empathic reasoning as recognizing that others are human and getting to know their point of view. Sadly we all seem to be lacking in something that's of such uttermost importance.

As I see it there are two main blocks to empathetic behaviors:
The first is  that our long tradition of adherence to science and quest for proof has led us to thinking that empathy is emotional and irrelevant to reasoning and the application of logic. While in actuality empathy gives us additional information and viewpoint, making sound judgment more likely.
The second and more insidious issue is where we think we listen but then avoid putting ourselves in anyone shoes because it’s usually inconvenient and sometimes downright uncomfortable. Its much easier to blithely ignore what anyone else is feeling then feel guilty and troubled by someone's pain or rationale. Put everyone in their box (you know Immigrants are felons, tightfisted Jews, Muslims are violent, African Americans are lazy, Dumb Blonde etc) and then refuse to look at the individuals.

You could be calling someone an arrogant snob for ignoring your repeated invitations to say join your Facebook network, but it could very well be the lack of computer skills which is holding them back. You could rant at someone else for not offering you a ride while she may be embarrassed at how unkempt her car is. I know someone who broke off a promising relationship because she was not happy with her own flabby skin and did not want to risk the guy being repulsed. So even though she liked the guy, she told him that she was looking for someone with a better job/career. The guy probably thought she was stuck-up gold digging what not.

We have to realize that people do not admit to their fears and inadequacies outright and will make any number of excuses. All of us have a lot going on in our lives. Our action or inaction may have absolutely nothing to do with you. Never be quick to judge and avoid thinking the world revolves around you.
Except for the truly depraved and warped souls, no one gets up in the morning thinking I'm going to hurt some one today. Practice your empathy and you may gain a much better understanding of those around you.

Lest someone thinks I'm promoting empathy as an altruistic and saintly thing, Hold On! You could be the most selfish and self serving person, a cutthroat competitor and empathy can still be your most powerful weapon; at work, in business and relationships. Whether its for selling, customer retention, handling complaints, conflict resolution, or a happier family life. Empathy helps in achieving and sustaining successful personal and business relationships. When we cultivate care and empathy, not only does our emotional health improve, but also our capacity to cope with the enormous challenges of life.

So how does it work? its very easy as long as you understand an important element of empathy, it requires active listening, not just hearing.
To hear someone means that you understand the words and the sentences. To listen means to understand and communicate. To actively listen means to actually appreciate someone else perspective. To acknowledge that their thoughts and contributions are as essential – if not more – than your own.

It’s very challenging to balance between contributing and having an ego while also be accepting and egoless, yet empathy springs from that very ability. To listen, one must engage. To engage, one has to have an ego. To truly listen is to acknowledge that another ego is present and as soon as you accept that you have empathy.

You guys Listening?

Injurious Charity

“Charity is injurious unless it helps the recipient to become independent of it.”  - J. Rockefeller

We felt the psychological aftershocks reverberating throughout the world as people heard and saw the news of the devastation in Haiti. The horror and sorrow lead to massive desire to do something. We saw the inevitable fund-raising events to help the victims. We see celebrities and statesman go about working on getting the help out. In my cynical moments I would say the involvement of people is pure hypocrisy and an attempt to salve their own consciences and feels good about their "charitable deeds".

Now lest anyone gets me wrong I fully support the effort - in spite of my personal doubts that anything such as pure charity or true altruism even exists. I agree they need some immediate help. I will even agree that every little bit helps, but just want to make sure that everyone understands one thing. It is definitely a "little bit". It is not even a drop in the ocean for what would be really required to rehabilitate Haiti.

The predicament is that Charity - no matter how well intentioned - cannot solve the poverty crisis. Poverty is caused by the unjust socioeconomic policies of successive governments which place profits before people. It cannot be vanquished by any quantity of charity but only through serious and systematic political change. Charity and fund raising is but a short term solution, which serves only to deflect attention from the fact that basic essential services (food, housing and clothing) should not have to depend on aid.

What I'm trying to say is that it requires a much more lasting commitment. It requires us to follow through and work on helping for years to come. That is where I reiterate we will fail, we will forget in a very very short time.

Instead on me rambling on, let's look at these two pictures to drive home what I'm arriving at.

Both are iconic images capturing the misery of a country. The first one needs no explanation and I am sure people tear up whenever they see it. The photographer Kevin Carter himself was haunted with the scene and committed suicide in 1994. I read somewhere that the chance of this girl surviving was less than 3 percent.

I'm sure we had lofty articles and fund-raising at that time for the people of Sudan, 17 years later people in Sudan are still dying. Darfur is creating thousand of such images without even any photographers to capture it now.

The second picture is of an Afghani girl which came out in National Geographic 84/85, although not as horrifying as the first one, her eyes really shows the desolation and hopelessness the Afghan people have suffered. 25 years later, the refugee problem continues, the women are still treated worse than animals. So what has all the talk and charity changed – Nada, Nothing.

And the same will happen to Haiti as soon as we feel we have done our "bit".