FAITH AND LAW

March 20th, 2010

Our XXI Century refutes anything that cannot be proved, or touched or measured… yet in the midst of this “I do not believe anything that can’t be seen or measured” we live with mobile phones, television, microwave ovens.. things that work with the invisible energy of waves that were only discovered and harnessed because people in the last century BELIEVED in them.

Just think… what triggered the Curie’s work in radioactivity?. What led to the radio? How can an unseen planet be discovered just because the orbit of the known one is not the expected one? What are expectations if not the tendrils of faith? Who imagined bouncing TV signals off satellites orbiting the earth? Who imagined man-made satellites circling the earth in the first place?

All of the new inventions and discoveries are the product of someone’s dream, intuition, or endeavor. The product of mathematical calculations, you might say, and you would be right. Yet, how can we strike off the initial spark, the conviction that led their work?

That initial spark is faith. Faith in its secular sense which is, of course, trust, confidence and hope. We live in a lay world. We have tried to erase all that seemed tinged by religion, belief; all that is meaningful in values, especially because this modern world of ours panics at the thought of being tainted by sects, religions and other groups that are not “progressive”.

However, no matter how progressive we are, the covenant of society is still trust, confidence: faith. We cannot function as a society without trust. We need to trust the bank, the utilities company, the baker, the butcher… and trust is faith.

We speak constantly of confidence, even of self-confidence. We speak of reliability, we speak of support… and all of these are facets of the same diamond: faith.

Like it or not, our civilization is based on faith. Faith and law, which is, in effect, the “hard copy” of faith. It is the written version of what keeps our world ticking and running. The rules by which we rule ourselves and the agreements which we reach and accept.

The law, my father said, was man’s greatest accomplishment. Law was what made the difference between a pack and a society. Law, equal for all, the same for everyone, and the same in every occasion. My father was a lawyer, but more than that, he believed in law and in the people who trusted the law, who had faith in the workings of society as set down in the laws.

How does this affect our lay society…the one that refuses to even mention faith? It makes us orphans, bereft of the guidance law, convention and tradition might contribute. How are we to function without faith, without trust, without confidence? Is this the crisis of our time… that of seeking what faith contributes while denying faith itself? We are wishing, willing to abhor customs and traditions, beliefs and conventions, but we have nothing with which to replace them. What will fill that void?

It was Napoleon who said “for every priest I cast out, I need to employ ten policemen”. Is this why we are living in a world that seeks to rule and regulate everything, from the contents of a jar of sandwich spread to the use of the Internet? Are we seeking to substitute faith and trust by rules and regulations – which are another facet of the same faith?

EL YORKSHIRE QUE ATACÓ

March 20th, 2010

Íbamos al kiosko por el periódico una mañana y veíamos en la acera de enfrente como un señor salía del kiosko leyendo el periódico, sin poner atención para nada al mundo que le rodeaba. Caminaba despacio, absorto en su lectura.

Por la misma acera, en dirección contraria, y con rumbo de colisión, iba una chiquilla aún adolescente con un cachorro de yorkshire, marrón y negro, minúsculo, correteando dos metros por delante de su dueña.

Se encontraron, el señor lector y el yorkshire bravucón. En realidad, se encontró el yorkshire con el zapato del lector, y atacó: se subió por el zapato y landrando un amenazante Yip yip yip!, asía la pernera del pantalón sobre el zapato sacudiendo la cabeza, buscando romperle el espinazo, como han matado desde tiempos ancestrales los perros a los gatos y a las liebres.

El señor lector casi se cae. La chica intentaba, sin éxito, tranquilizarlo, explicando que su perro no era peligroso. Creo que no lograba hacerse entender porque dado el tamaño del cachorro, el que corría peligro era la fiera beligerante. No creo que el señor lector haya sentido miedo ante el ataque.

Cuando logró deshacer la doble vuelta de correa del yorkshire al rededor de las piernas del lector, y desentrañar qué había sucedido, el agredido acarició al culpable, y con mucho tacto no se rió, ni del agresor ni de los apuros de su dueña.

Luego explicaba la víctima del feroz ataque: Yo no sabía qué sucedía. Sentía que me daba vueltas la correa, sentía el peso en el zapato y el zarandeo de la pernera del pantalón, pero entre el periódico que llevaba y el tamaño del agresor, no llegaba a ver qué era ni qué pretendía. Nunca pensé que ese yorkshire que no pesará ni un kilo pudiera concebir la idea de atacarme.

Eso viene a probar que el tamaño está en la mente, que uno es grande si así se siente, y el “mata-siete” no es verdad solo en los cuentos de hadas.

EL CHOW-CHOW QUE FUE DE VISITA Y VOLVIÓ GANADOR

March 8th, 2010

Era un cachorro precioso. Un cachorro crecido, de unos 8 meses. Había ido con su ama a ver un concurso, para pasar la tarde, en plan mirón.

Ahora hay más Chows por el mundo, entonces era bastante exótico… y su ama, francesa, alta, distinguida no era exótica pero llamaba la atención.

Se habían sentado en tierra, en el césped, a ver el desfile cuando se les acercó, en la mejor tradición del descubrimiento de una estrella en Hollywood, una de las autoridades del concurso a decirles que ese no era el sitio de los concursantes. Quedó atónito al saber que no habían inscrito al perro como concursante, se ocupó él mismo de buscar los papeles, ayudar a rellenarlos, presentarlos, y hacer que se trasladaran al “box” de participantes.

Contaba la dueña que había sido una jornada de lo más extraña, en la que tuvo que compartir su sandwich con el pobre Chow convertido en aprendiz de estrella, y compartir también su botella de agua. Me gustaba como describía cómo los dueños acicalaban a sus perros, persiguiendo rizos inoportunos, recortando mechones rebeldes, cepillando con acondicionadores para que brillaran más.. y como ella, que había ido sin un mal peine ni cepillo, se entretenía viendo el “behind the scene” pero sin participar.

Gran sorpresa y alegría, el Chow – Ian – se llamaba en honor a un irlandés, fue proclamado mejor de su raza (eso era fácil, solo había dos más y ya no tenían la lozanía de juventud), y el mejor del concurso.

Su ama nunca más volvió por los concursos. Decía que haber llegado y salido con dos copas era suficiente para una vida. Que no tentaría más la suerte… ni el aburrimiento de la espera entre pase y pase, y a la espera de las puntuaciones.

De todas formas, pasaron los organizadores rondándole, invitándola al participar en otros concursos. Ella nunca accedió, e Ian se retiró después de un gran comienzo. Nada menos que el mejor del concurso!

A SOCIETY OF LONERS

March 8th, 2010

Our society of creature comforts earned in hours of work, has not brought solace to the worst blight: loneliness. In this day of collective work (“team” is a more politically correct term), why do we feel alone? What kinks our minds make “social networks”, dating organizations, and chats necessary to seek company? Why can’t we relate to the people next door? Often, we don’t even know the people next door although we chat amicably with someone living in Japan.

Our work is often sedentary and solitary although performed in rooms full of people. When the workday is over should we not be presumably tired and in need of rest and solitude? What makes us dash out to the gym or ikebana class? Why do we take up ceramics or basket weaving? And why are we seeking new activities, and nearly always collective ones?

Today most of us work doing just a fraction almost anything, be it an assembly line, engineering drawings, or even booking flights or hotel accommodations. We work in teams, these are not “company”. They merely define the group involved on a single finished product. The members of the team are easily replaceable in their functions, which accentuates the bereft feeling of the human component, no matter how well worded the company policy might be.

These teams might be physically separated, and the work carried on in different locations, even in different cities or countries, and I think this only makes us feel lonelier since we lack the sense of accomplishment, the pride of seeing our finished work.

There is a clear difference between a friend and the person next to you in the trenches. Workmates, war buddies or fellow girl scouts need not be kindred spirits. When people are thrown together, either because the company seated them next to each other, or a flash flood caught them in the same ravine, find a manner to work together. Some even end up being best friends, others will be forever someone they shared an experience with, and nothing more.

Perhaps we seek other activities because we need a time to be with the people we choose. Unless we are of the lucky few working on what would otherwise be a hobby, we might just want to talk about something that is not work with someone we, and not the company, choose. Still, for this, we join groups and become part of another cell.

What is missing in our lives, in our society, when we do not listen to who is sitting next to us because we are calling someone in another town? What is missing, or what are we losing, in our lives when we are trying to race time arranging the future by phone while awaiting the train? Where are we when we walk down the street with our mind and attention on whatever is coming out of the phone? What compels us to take pictures practically of places we will not even see until we down-load them into our computer.

Have we lost the here and now? Is that what makes us forever walk the edge between the individual “I” and collective “we”? Is it all because we cannot decide, or have not the courage to make a stance and choose willingly and face the consequences of our choice? Is it because we don’t want to lose other opportunities and never seem to be able to let go of whatever we have in hand? Is it that we refuse to take the responsibility for our choices and our lives? Is this why we choose to live collectively while developing such concepts as “personal space”in order to insure we remain utterly alone?

We have walked into a trap of our own making. We live in a contradiction: a society of loners, and of unwilling and unhappy ones at that.

EL BRAD PITT DEL BARRIO

February 28th, 2010

El Brad Pitt del barrio es un Labrador negro de unos ocho meses. Ya querría Brad Pitt ser el Pipo de su barrio.

El animal es precioso, alegre, juguetón que pasea con los ufanos miembros de su familia humana. Bueno, la familia dice que sacan a Pipo a pasear, pero todos saben que es Pipo quien saca, por turnos, a toda la familia. Los saca por turnos para que le duren más los paseos – y también para que le dure más la familia. Un labrador es capaz de llevar a la extenuación a cualquiera.

El peligro está en su energía. En un arranque de alegría podría dislocarte el codo, o el hombro según cómo lleves la correa. Si te salta encima para saludar puede dejarte sentada en la acera, muy agradecida de disfrutar de su cariño pero también deseando un poco más de comedimiento. Ay! La juventud, con toda su vitalidad, la inconsciencia, la espontaneidad y alegría, dicen, es una enfermedad que se cura con el tiempo.

Hace dos días lo vi esperando pacientemente a su amo a la puerta del horno. Cuando le saludé, saltó y vino hacia mi, lo que hizo salir a la carrera a su amo gritándole a Pipo que se estuviera quieto y a mi para que no me asustara de que un rayo negro y brillante se me viniera encima. El dueño no tuvo tiempo para reconocerme y temió que yo me sintiera atacada.

Había sido yo la imprudente de saludar a un perro que obviamente cumplía órdenes de su amo y lo esperaba a la puerta del horno. Pobre Pipo! Tendrá que aprender a ser prudente para compensar las imprudencias de la gente.

HOW WE USE TIME

February 28th, 2010

I read once, and since then have heard it said on radio and television, that people (including a study on gorilas, which are not people but close kin), from the stone-age tribes onward through Egyptians, and medieval Europeans spent an average 6 hours a day looking for and obtaining food and shelter and “clothes” (included under shelter). That includes travelling to and from food gathering or hunting areas and erecting and repairing shelters.

That means 25% of a 24-hour day and something like 75% of the useful, daylight (sunlight) time. The remainder they spent socializing and resting. Lately I have heard that that figure continues to be true. That modern man spends 75% of his income (corresponding to the time available for work – ruled now by working hour regulations rather than daylight) on food, shelter (mortgage or rent) and clothing. That, at first sight would mean that we are not much better off now than the gorilas or the stone-age tribes were.

The figures stack up well, the statement seems to hold, but we all know that it’s not true, at least, not wholly correct. To extrapolate those figures to our day, we would have to throw in two-day weekends, bank holidays and paid vacations – which probably would wake us up with a start with the realization that we are much better off. But our feeling is that people might have lived harder lives physically, but were living in less hostile environments psychologically speaking.

How we love to gripe! Little thought is given to psychology or hostile environments when hunger looms, or when physical exhaustion dispels qualms only available to us living in comfort, if not affluence. My father used to say that there was a minimum of material wealth or comfort – roughly translating into food and shelter – under which people did not function as beings capable of creative thought, under which the only consideration was to obtain food and shelter. In my father’s view, only once this was assured could man take time to consider good and bad, the convenience or not, what could be rash or suitable, and to braid sense and sensibility into the fabric of his life.

Still, this “packing life full” sometimes brings us to such things as this: A good friend who gave up smoking once confided: “Before giving up smoking I was a reasonably bright man who, when asked a difficult question, lit a cigarette and produced a more or less intelligent answer. Now I am a poor devil who, when asked a difficult question, stands there with his mouth hanging open for thirty seconds while frantically trying to gather his thoughts into an acceptable reply.” Nobody questioned the thirty seconds spent lighting a cigarette, but now, when he has “nothing to do” (lighting the cigarette) those thirty seconds seem symptomatic of lack of wit.

Why? Maybe as a throw-back on the days when there was no time to lose, many things to do, many chores to attend to. The old “the devil finds work for idle hands”? No matter that our great-grandparents, used to physical work, would probably consider most of our lives as “idle”.

Maybe because we are now used to television and films where all hesitations are erased and people react instantly and in a suitable manner. Again, we are set up against fiction, and reality takes a beating.

Today our extra-curricular activities and hobbies allow us to project that part of ourselves that is constrained at work and exercise our taste and fancy – otherwise called “creativity” – in a manner which is pleasing to us and not disruptive for general run of organised work.

Is it only another way of not being alone with our thoughts? Is this sane? I have smy doubts.

EL PERRO DE CAZA QUE HEREDÓ UNA VENDETTA

February 20th, 2010

A doscientos metros de casa vive un perro de caza que ha heredado el rol de íntimo enemigo, de enemigo del alma. Ninguno, ni Karma ni Rolf – los dos perros – ni sus dueños saben por qué son enemigos.

Es más, Rolf es el segundo perro de ese nombre en esa cas. El anterior murió atropellado. Fue con este primer Rolf que se inició la desavenencia, sin que ninguno de los dueños hayan logrado desentrañar el por qué.

Los dos Rolf jamás coincidieron. El joven llegó a la casa cuando el otro había muerto. Los dos Rolf podrían ser un mismo animal. Son de la misma raza de caza, del mismo color canela y blanco, con las mismas manchas – las orejas marrones, el cuerpo blanco a motitas canela. Karma podía haber confundido al nuevo Rolf con su antiguo enemigo el alma, y así conseguir que siguiera la enemistad.

Habría instrucciones para el joven Rolf en su casa? Qué habrá dejado dicho el viejo Rolf para que el nuevo enarbole la misma bandera? Lo cierto es que es una enemistad heredada. Será como las vendettas sicilianas, o será la guerra de los cien años entre un perro de caza inglés y el otro un pseudo caniche?

CHANGES IN PERCEPTION

February 20th, 2010

Is this why childhood is no longer the happy and protective land I remember? The world indeed has changed, and while I have never been Polyanna I am shocked this change has made everything that was sweet become bitter. All the landmarks upside down.

Just as an example, let me mention that when I was a child the circus was considered a world in which the actors and artists were happy to work as acrobats and trapeze artists or clowns. Then the circus became a difficult world in which hard feelings, envies and hatreds ran freely while the artists strove not only to be great in their specialty, but cruel antagonists intent in their survival. The countryside was beautiful, sunny, the farmers led healthy lives. Now the emphasis is on its difficulties, the long hours of labour, the high costs, the mean rewards. And these are only two examples. It seems what was taken positively before, now is considered negatively. Neither is completely right.

It is not that I think all was sugar and roses and now it isn’t. I think things were pretty much as they are now, but the emphasis, of those living in those worlds, and especially of those looking into those worlds was totally different.

Is this applicable to childhood now? When I read interviews with young people of many walks of life, I often think young people are intent in giving themselves a traumatic childhood. It must mean an extra point or two when trying to call attention to themselves if they can plea psychological hardship, or whatever.

Still, thinking about the lives they live, maybe they have been cheated out of their childhood, the type of childhood that grants the personal resources needed to lead happy and fruitful lives. Maybe they are right in saying they have suffered traumatic childhoods, although the trauma and the drama is not what they claim. The trauma might be just that they have not had a childhood they can recognise as such.

EL DANÉS CAMPEÓN DE ESPAÑA

February 11th, 2010

Pocos perros son tan lindos como ese danés. alto, como un burro pequeño – lo que no es de extrañar, pues en Dinamarca, eran los perros los animales de tiro que llevaban los carritos cargados de cántaros de leche. Con una capa de gris terciopelo caminando lenta y ceremoniosamene al lado de su dueño.

Su dueño, ufano, cuenta que es el Campeón de España, que están descansando, pues llevan una temporada primavera-verano muy ajetreada. Han vuelto de Vigo y la semana próxima van a Zaragoza, de concurso en concurso, como las Mises. No se pueden perder muchas oportunidades porque todo puntúa, y uno no siempre está en su mejor momento. Se lamentaba el dueño de una ocasión que llegó el perro mareado a Barcelona, y claro, no tenía el mismo brío, y puntuó muy bajo.

El perro estaba feliz. Paseaba casi sin mirar por las retamas recién florecidas. El dueño contó que entre lo mucho que tienen que aprender los perros de concurso está el no distraerse, no dispersarse, mantenerse concentrado en su caminar, en el ángulo del cuello necesario para mejor lucir su cabeza. Permitir a los jueces verlo, mirarlo, tocarlo, sin rechistar.

No se sabe quien de los dos, amo o perro, está más concentrado en la carrera, ni quien más orgulloso. Hacen una buena pareja. Son socios en una empresa que de momento les lleva de éxito en éxito.

RESULTS OF SELF DECEPTION

February 11th, 2010

No wonder people do not feel quite happy or satisfied. How can be anyone be happy in a place in which, one way or another, they are not wholly present. Maybe it is a question of the parallel universes science fiction has evoked more than once.

Still, if frustration is here and now… can modifying the where and when help mitigate it?

My son once said that people are unhappy because they try to fix their past by mortgaging their future, and lose their present in the doing. His view, which makes sense to me, is that the present is the only real thing we have. The past is gone and little can be done to fix whatever we think we did wrong or wronged us. The future does not exist yet; but by ignoring the present, today, we can effectively spoil, not only the present but the future as well.

How can we enjoy the world we are so prone to ignore? How can we pretend to protect it? Is its protection just another gambit to gain control? Nothing can be protected if it is not controlled. Think of it: a canary is under full protection, and fully controlled, jailed, at mercy of when we choose to feed it or to take it out into the breeze. A baby is fully protected, and fully controlled. A child escapes our control and protection at times. Wild animals, if free, are beyond our control and protection. And we want to protect – control – the world?

Is it because we have been taught that adult behaviour means doing what is suitable and convenient? Is it because we have to be “reasonable” and nobody has bothered to define “reasonable”. How can we seek happiness in a world in which we don’t stop long enough to enjoy? Is it because we can’t stop because stopping is related to wasting time? Are we trying to postpone gratification as sensible thing to do?

We have deceived ourselves into thinking that an over-stuffed life, full of activities that do not really interest us, a radio tuned in all day, a television playing, the internet spewing keeps us abreast with the world and in the world… and all it really does is to make us feel lonelier, sadder and more helpless when we take stock of our lives.

This happens in all walks of life. A child’s day today is appalling. They have schedules that would ground top executives in any great firm. School is prolonged into extracurricular activities which go from sports to foreign language, music, art, karate and theatre… but that no longer are “enjoyable” because they become competitive and exacting.

The children today move in such a tight grid they can barely allow themselves to sneeze and blow their nose except when it is allowed, or they might miss their following connection. A rat race in every way worked out for the child’s future benefit. Surely his future will be better if he speaks English, French and/or Chinese, plays basket ball or is adept at roller skating, plays the violin or the piano. His future will surely be great… if he manages to get there. But he will have lost out on childhood. The funny (or sad) part is that the future is only reached through today.