Tag Archives: Milkman

This “Fish” Sees Water…Kinda…And It Is Not Always Cracked up To What It’s Supposed To Be!!!

Here is just one example of the total wrongness of something I tend to be automatically sure of: everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute centre of the universe; the realest, most vivid and important person in existence. We rarely think about this sort of natural, basic self-centredness because it’s so socially repulsive. But it’s pretty much the same for all of us. It is our default setting, hard-wired into our boards at birth. Think about it: there is no experience you have had that you are not the absolute centre of. The world as you experience it is there in front of YOU or behind YOU, to the left or right of YOU, on YOUR TV or YOUR monitor. And so on. Other people’s thoughts and feelings have to be communicated to you somehow, but your own are so immediate, urgent, real. (David Foster Wallace)

The above quote, from my last post, is the essence of the “spinning” that occurs with a fish that cannot see its water. However, a “fish” can learn to see water and my life is a story about this accomplishment.  Actually, I must confess this has not been an “accomplishment” as I was born this way and it has merely taken me half a century to find the confidence to accept and honor this lot in life.  My confidence was buoyed last year when I read…twice…the Booker-Prize winning novel by Anna Burns, “The Milkman” in which she introduced me to the notion of living “beyond the pale.” In my life beyond this pale…and yes it is the “pale” separating reality and something “beyond”…which I’m increasingly learning is not a catastrophe but is merely the endowment of what poet John Keats called “negative capability.”  (It could, though be a “catastrophe” and often is!) This stance has blessed/cursed me with the “observer” stance which Emily Dickinson alluded to when she noted, “Life is over there, on a shelf.”  It is no coincidence that Dickinson spent her life “cloistered” in her father’s attic and I myself have spent my life “cloistered” in some attic, some cerebral detachment of sorts.

But in this cloister of mine I have not escaped the predicament the David Foster Wallace noted in the quote provided above.  I, too, offer but a “spin” about the world and I, too, have tended to take it too seriously and demonstrated too often a tendency to impose it on others; as some wit noted, “Give a kid a hammer and everything is a nail.”  The ego has a difficult time ever acknowledging its machinations which are intrinsically a “spin” about the world and an attempt to make it wholly about itself.  When Humility begins to penetrate that hermetically-sealed chamber, the “spin” begins to rattle against the walls of the cage it has created and great is the “noise” to the owner of the ego…and sometimes to those looking on from the outside!

Let me close with a note about the “noise” which is clamoring in our modern world as our collective ego is under a related grave challenge.  Particularly in my country, the basic assumptions, the premises, the “water” that we “fish” cannot see, is being exposed.  In this situation, the part of our culture which most embodies this obfuscation is clinging obstinately to its ego and have found a leader who champions so vividly its cause.

In my next post, I am going to share about the “spinning” of one’s religious tradition and how that noble teachings can become merely an example of the aforementioned “kid with a hammer.”

Belonging, Identity, and Toko-pa Turner

I was a joiner in my youth and early adulthood. I was not a good one, able only to offer a half-hearted commitment to any opportunity I found to convince myself…and half-heartedly again, that I belonged, that I fit in.  This intense, and often desperate attempt never sufficed. I now realize that the more one must “try” to fit in the more likely it is that the efforts themselves will be off-putting to others.  If you feel that you do fit in, it is likely that you will do so, and that you will be so comfortable in this “chez nous” of yours that you will rarely, if ever, worry about “fitting in.”

But I’ve almost totally given up in this futile quest of fitting in and am finding peace as a result.  To borrow a term from Anna Burns’ Booker-Prize winning novel from last year, “The Milkman,” I am from beyond the pale and thus, in her terms, a “beyond the paler.”  And I’m happy that this full awareness did not dawn on me until the 7th decade of my life as now I have the maturity to not be intoxicated with the intrinsic alienation of this lot in life.  I know whole-heartedly and appreciatively that those “within the pale” are the backbone of this “reality” we live within.  Arrogance is a readily available to all of us, certainly those that lie beyond this pale and harbor some deep-seated wish that we didn’t.  Arrogance just belies a failure to appreciate that the only thing that any of us have, beyond or within the pale, is “being here.”; this is relevant to the imperative of Ram Dass decades ago, “Be here now.”  We are present in this mysterious maelstrom that we know as reality and it is important that we realize that this is true for all of us.  We have only “being here now” so briefly, and that is the commonality that we all share.  Regardless of how much we vehemently disagree or even loathe anyone in our life, they share with us this humble quality of being simply an entity that is nothing more than a “being” like the rest of us. It is in this simple, but Infinite Presence that we can find the unity which can point us in the direction of living together in harmony.  Here in this Sacred Space we stand naked together, unadorned by all of the pretenses, dogmas, adornments, accomplishments, and chicaneries that have given us the illusion of our separateness.

Here I share a quote from a writer I discovered last year, Toko-Pa Turner which sums up these thoughts so beautifully:

Our longing for community and purpose is so powerful that it can drive us to join groups, relationships, or systems of belief that, to our diminished or divided self, give the false impression of belonging. But places of false belonging grant us conditional membership, requiring us to cut parts of ourselves off in order to fit in. While false belonging can be useful and instructive for a time, the soul becomes restless when it reaches a glass ceiling, a restriction that prevents us from advancing. We may shrink back from this limitation for a time, but as we grow into our truth, the invisible boundary closes in on us and our devotion to the group mind weakens. Your rebellion is a sign of health. It is the way of nature to shatter and reconstitute. Anything or anyone who denies your impulse to grow must either be revolutionized or relinquished.
― Toko-pa Turner, Belonging: Remembering Ourselves Home