FREEDOM in Vienna

7 10 2014

photo 1 photo 2 Freedom in Vienna

 

 

Die Gedanken sind frei, wer kann sie erraten,
sie fliegen vorbei wie nächtliche Schatten.
Kein Mensch kann sie wissen, kein Jäger erschießen
mit Pulver und Blei: Die Gedanken sind frei!

Ich denke was ich will und was mich beglücket,
doch alles in der Still’, und wie es sich schicket.
Mein Wunsch und Begehren kann niemand verwehren,
es bleibet dabei: Die Gedanken sind frei!

Und sperrt man mich ein im finsteren Kerker,
das alles sind rein vergebliche Werke.
Denn meine Gedanken zerreißen die Schranken
und Mauern entzwei: Die Gedanken sind frei!

Drum will ich auf immer den Sorgen entsagen
und will mich auch nimmer mit Grillen mehr plagen.
Man kann ja im Herzen stets lachen und scherzen
und denken dabei: Die Gedanken sind frei!

Ich liebe den Wein, mein Mädchen vor allen,
sie tut mir allein am besten gefallen.
Ich sitz nicht alleine bei meinem Glas Weine,
mein Mädchen dabei: Die Gedanken sind frei!





An escape from FREEDOM: the men who don’t fit in

3 10 2014

“He characterizes the progress toward the overman as proceeding through three stages. First is the stage of the camel, where we renounce comfort and discipline ourselves harshly. Second is the stage of the lion, where we defiantly assert our independence. Third is the stage of the child, where we find a new innocence and creativity. Achieving this stage is like reaching the summit of a mountain: we can look down on everything around us and find lightness and laughter rather than seriousness and struggle. To become overmen, we must isolate ourselves from the mob.”

Thus Spake Zarathustra

“Every man must think after his own fashion; for on his own path he finds a truth, or a kind of truth, which helps him through life. But he must not give himself the rein; he must control himself; mere naked instinct does not become him.”

– Goethe

The Men Who Don’t Fit In

By Robert W. Service

There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain’s crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest.
If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they’re always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.
They say: “Could I find my proper groove,
What a deep mark I would make!”
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
Is only a fresh mistake.

And each forgets, as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who win in the lifelong race.
And each forgets that his youth has fled,
Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead,
In the glare of the truth at last.

He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
He has just done things by half.
Life’s been a jolly good joke on him,
And now is the time to laugh.
Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
He was never meant to win;
He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone;

He’s a man who won’t fit in.

photo-12

photo-11

 

 





FREEDOM flashing

25 09 2014

Freedom contains the mystery of the world. God wanted freedom, and from this came the tragedy of the world. – Nikolai Berdyaev

No one is free; even the birds are chained to the sky. – Bob Dylan 

 

Philomena – Mami, when am I going to be free to do whatever I want?

Mummy– What do you mean? What would you like to do that you don’t do already?

Philomena – I don’t get to choose anything. Not even what I eat.

Mummy – Are you kidding? You have so much more choice than I ever had as to what you eat.

Philomena – Maybe I have more choice than you but that doesn’t mean I can choose what I want. I don’t get to choose anything. I have to go to school. I have to eat pasta with cheese sauce even though it makes me gag  just smelling it.

Mummy – Once every few weeks they serve you pasta with cheese sauce.

Philomena – But I hate it. It makes me sick. And no one listens to me about it. I’ve asked politely a million times. It is not respectful not to listen. I am perfectly happy to eat the pasta but not the sauce. It is absolutely terrible to be a child sometimes. I can’t wait to grow up so that I can do whatever I want.

Mummy – Believe me Philomena, growing older doesn’t necessarily grant you the freedom to do whatever you want. You will always be fighting for your freedom (and the freedom of others) in one way or another—you will fight for the freedom to do what you want, live where you want, behave the way you want, love what you want, freedom to change the world around you, to make the world a better place, it is always a battle. Participating in that battle, that struggle, it’s what makes us human. Fortunately, what also makes us human is our imagination. The only place you are ever truly free is in your mind. Freedom is your creative force. And even that takes some practice. I promise you, your mind at age 7 is a whole lot freer than my mind at age 40.

http://keystotherain.net/music/ChimesofFreedom.mp3

photo-8





CREATIVITY: the power of resistance

24 09 2014

cover

resistance is invisible

resistance is insidious

resistance and procrastination

resistance and self-doubt

resistance and mating

resistance can be beaten





when science sets man FREE

6 09 2014

“I’m happy. It was a rough experience… but I knew one day I was going to be blessed to get out of prison” – Henry McCollum

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Voices_of_East_Harlem





FREEDOM: to change and spin your own heroic narrative

2 09 2014

“These are damaged people. They’ve done amazing things. And they’ve done it all, as far as I can see, as a result of their struggles with madness. None of them were sectioned. None received, or even sought, psychiatric help. Instead, their storytelling brains wove heroic narratives that explained away the collapse of their identities even as they were taking place. Their confabulations were so credible to them that they metamorphosed into different selves. And then, in their own small ways, they went on to change the world.” – Will Storr

http://aeon.co/magazine/psychology/how-a-hero-narrative-can-transform-the-self/

In October, Will Storr is teaching a course for writers on the science of storytelling, in London. Details are available here.





FREEDOM: Walking like Giants

27 08 2014

I used to walk like a giant on the land
Now I feel like a leaf floating in a stream
I wanna walk like a giant
I wanna walk like a giant on the land

Me and some of my friends
We were gonna save the world
We were trying to make it better
We were ready to save the world
But then the weather changed
And the white got stained
And it fell apart
And it breaks my heart

But think about how close we came
I wanna walk like a giant on the land
I wanna walk like a giant on the land

Tried to head for long and straight
We were riding on the desert wind
We were pulling in the spiritual
Riding on the desert wind
We could see it in the distance
Getting closer every minute
We saw the lights and spiritual shining
Getting closer every minute
Then we skipped the rails
And we started to fail
And we folded up
And it’s not enough

Think about how close we came
I wanna walk like a giant on the land
I wanna walk like a giant on the land

Whenever I see the big fire coming
Coming to burn down all my ideas
I try to hold on to my thinking
And remember how it feels
When I’m looking right in your eyes
And hearing your happy laughter
When I’m seeing your blue eyes shining
And hear your happy laughter
So the moment came
And the big sky rained
And it put out the fire
Except in my desire

When I think about how good it feels
I wanna walk like a giant on the land
I wanna walk like a giant on the land

I used to walk like a giant on the land
Now I feel like a leaf floating in a stream
I wanna walk like a giant
– Niel Young

http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giants_(Greek_mythology)





LOVE-Apologia

18 08 2014

For a long time neither of us speaks. He turns to me and gives me a bow so deep I think he is going to topple over. Straightening up again, he says, ‘I am sorry, for what we did to you. I am deeply sorry.’

‘Your apology is meaningless,’I say, taking a step back from him. ‘It’s worth nothing to me.’

His shoulders stiffen. I expect him to walk away from the pavilion. But he stands there, not moving.

‘We had no idea what my country did,’ he says.

[Tan Twang Eng, The Garden of Evening Mists]

 

The Apologyhttp://downloads.bbc.co.uk/podcasts/worldservice/whyfactor/whyfactor_20140711-1830a.mp3

my Chinese education

 

 

 

 

 

 

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/15/opinion/learning-to-forget-tibet-in-china.html?_r=

IMG_2464

 

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/14/opinion/nicholas-kristof-dont-dismiss-the-humanities.html





A Family Torn Apart

23 07 2014

“My mother is a daughter of Zion. One side of her family fled from Russian pogroms in the Pale of Settlement, the other was caught up in the rise of Nazism in the cauldron of 20th-century Europe… My father’s family belongs to the other camp. He was only a boy when the Irgun and Haganah came rolling into Jaffa on the waves of tanks and mortars… I have a daughter now who carries both bloodlines and must somehow learn to live at peace with the two sides of her heritage.” – Claire Hajaj

http://www.newsweek.com/2014/08/01/my-jewish-mother-my-palestinian-father-and-family-torn-apart-260422.html





LOVE = FORGIVENESS

6 06 2014

http://youtu.be/CeRLRlO7GFY





rock-mama on tour with an infant

1 06 2014
 
“You have to be 1000% on the side of humanity once you have a kid. You’re like rooting for the home team like you never have before.”
– Efrim Menuck

Violinist Jessica Moss and singer/guitarist Efrim Menuck are struggling to balance parenthood with making music in their internationally acclaimed Montreal-based band Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra. They are one of a growing number of bands to have accepted an infant/toddler into their touring life.

 

 

 





Are you your brother’s keeper?

11 04 2014
 
– Do people sometimes grow up resembling the ones they swore they never would? 
– I think the sad truth is perhaps we always do. I think, though, that one of the things the story [August: Osage County] provides, is it introduces a question. The question is: Do you have a choice? Are you your brother’s keeper? When does your responsibility to your family end, and when should your responsibility to yourself take over? – Tracy Letts
 
 
photo 
– The Art of Loving, Erich Fromm 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 




From “Offenders” to Philosophers

29 03 2014

Read about the extraordinary work that Nikki Cameron and the Low Moss Philosophy Club are doing to raise consciousness in prisons by teaching philosophy. Low Moss emphasise the Stoic idea that although we lack control over many aspects of our environment, we do have some choice over own thoughts, beliefs and actions. That although we may not control the past or the future, we can control the present. That although we cannot control what has already happened to us, we are still able to control how we respond to it.

Jules Evans (Philosophy for Life) writes about their work here:

http://philosophyforlife.org/further-thoughts-on-philosophy-in-prisons-from-a-rank-amateur/#sthash.lw5gOMxe.dpuf

 

stoicsm cheat sheet





Books For Breakfast w Richard Kilgarriff & Dr David Lewis

21 03 2014

photo 1

photo 2

photo 4

photo 5

http://bookomi.co.uk/category/books-for-breakfast/





An excavation

21 03 2014

photo (19)

re: stacks





Sacrificing Strawberries

4 03 2014

<p>Luna on Lent</p>

Luna Mummy what will you give up for LENT?!

Mummy – That’s a good question, I don’t think I’ve given up anything for lent in a VERY long time.

Philomena – How long exactly?

Mummy – I think  the last time was when I was 12 or 13.

Luna – I’m giving up strawberries. I LOVE strawberries, so I’m giving up strawberries.

Philomena – So what will YOU give up, Mummy?

Mummy – I’m not sure, what do you think I should give up?

Philomena – It has to be something you really love.

Mummy – Hmmmmm.

Luna – Like STRAWBERRIES.

Philomena – Or PANCAKES– I’m giving up pancakes.

Mummy: Hmmmmmm.

Luna – You could give up COFFEE? You always drink lots and lots of coffee.

Philomena – Or WINE? That would be a good one.

Mummy – Do I have to give up something I like to eat or drink — or could it be something else? There are lots of things I love.

Philomena – Oh, I KNOW! You love writing. Why don’t you give up WRITING for 40 days?!?!

Mummy – Wow.  Let me sleep on that idea. Do we have to tell each other what we give up? Is that part of it?

 





Sweetness should be gender-neutral

8 08 2013

Just read this article and in response to the Guardian’s request for comments, this is mine:

I want my daughters to be nice–VERY nice.

Although I was somewhat cognisant as a child about the power that comes from smiling (particularly in getting what I wanted from my parents), it wasn’t until I was 13 years old that I became fully aware of the power my smile could have on the outside world.

It was toward the end of the academic school year and I was using my smile, as well as my verbal skills, to convince my history teacher to accept an assignment that was 3 days overdue. I cannot remember what excuse I had up my sleeve on this particular occasion (as turning in assignments on time is something I have always struggled to do and I have more excuses than any other person I know) but whatever I did, worked. My teacher not only agreed to accept my late assignment but he also agreed not to take any points off for tardiness, so long as it remained “our little secret” (which it did until this very moment). Just as I was leaving the classroom, however, he stopped me, put his hand on my shoulder and looked sternly into my eyes. “You know, you aren’t always going to be able to use your smile to get away with things.” I couldn’t help but smile right back at him. He shook his head, rolled his eyes and walked back to his desk, smiling.

26 years after that conversation with my history teacher and I’m still smiling. I smile multiple times a day. Even when I am sad, stressed or angry, even when I am being serious, when I’m at a job interview, when I’m at a board meeting or giving a lecture, even when I’ve been called into my daughter’s school because she’s had a bad fall, even when a friend is crying in my arms of a broken heart—a smile will eventually creep up on me. This smile will provide perspective, a sense of calm and a sweetness, it will warm the moment; it will also infect whoever is in front of me.I was cute back then and I was sweet. I was a child after all—aren’t all children, irrespective of gender cute and sweet? And I had a killer smile. It worked like a charm and I got most things I wanted. But I was also smart, driven and curious about just about everything life had to offer. How in the world did we get to get to the point where we are questioning whether we want cute and sweet children who smile a lot?

Do I get a way with a lot of things other people don’t because of my smile?  Maybe. Do people with killer smiles generally get away with more in life? Who knows. Probably. All I know is that deep wrinkles are already setting in around the corners of my eyes but I’d choose these lines over frown lines any day.

Smiling is what makes us human. It softens us. It makes us even the toughest grown-up look sweet.

What an extraordinary trait: to be able to convey a message filled with positive energy without having to utter a single sound.

And the best part is that the moment you smile at someone they smile back. At least most of the time. We have all experienced the effect of a smile at some point in our lives and fortunately, we also have loads of scientific research for sceptics out there, demonstrating the effect that even a “fake” smile can have in provoking a sensation of happiness.

I think it is wrong to suggest that a smile is a female crutch. It is a human crutch and thank God we are all capable of smiling.

And yes, maybe some of us smile more than others but this is our gift not a curse.

I find it very strange that some people out there have come to peace with the idea of raising a child who doesn’t smile, but whatever, that is their own private matter. But it is abhorrent to use a girl with a frown wedged between her brows as a poster child for the feminist movement. It is also just plain ridiculous.

I want nothing more than my two daughters to feel empowered by their killer smiles and I want nothing more than for them to go through their entire life smiling—not as “if she is waitressing or pole-dancing or apologising for some vague but enormous infraction, like the very fact of her own existence” as Catherine Newman is so worried might be happening behind the smiling eyes of a child—but simply smiling.

And I want nothing more than for my daughters to use their killer smiles to infect people—as many people as possible in their lifetime—with happiness. Because that’s what it’s all about. They can have a rich intellectual and professional lives but without a capacity to muster up a carefree smile, without the capacity for kindness and generosity, a will to want to please others and to be accommodating, intellectual endeavours will always fall short of providing them with the happiness they deserve. Unlike Mrs Newman, I do want my daughters to wear their good nature like a gemstone—would much prefer that over any other material gems they may choose to adorn themselves with in the future.

I am certain that if I had sons I would want exactly the same for them.

Sweetness should be gender neutral.

IMG_2296





Hierarchy & Governance

7 01 2011

Philomena (4) in conversation w Luna (2):

P- You know, Luna, Mami is the boss. Then comes Papi but Papi says they are both the boss.
L- Yea.
P- When they go out, Mama-miel and Papa-miel (the grandparents) are the boss.
P- When none of them are home and the baby-sitter is here, well then she takes care of me and I take care of you. But I am the boss really. I am the boss. Okay Luna? I am the boss then. You understand that luna? Luna, Luna are you listening? LUNA I’M THE BOSS THEN OK?!
L- NO, MENA!! NNNNNO!!!!!





Happiness – A Man In His Prime

30 08 2010

Author: girlwithoutawatch

My husband turned 40 this year. So too did a bunch of our friends. Many threw hip parties in bars/restaurants, some hosted us them in exotic destinations abroad and some enjoyed quite more intimate dinners at home.  Although for the most part, the general mood at these events was relaxed and celebratory, some of the conversations I overheard among a number of my male friends made me think that perhaps there was a bit of melancholy in the air as well.  On a few of these occasions a particular question was raised that I found quite interesting and indicative of the mood of our peer group:

“What is—or rather, how would we define—a man in his prime?”

[Please forget for a moment, the fact that there is no such translatable term for a “woman” in her prime—and if there were, please forgive the fact that most men might suggest that these would be our early 20s years.”]

On one of these occasions, I suggested that a man in his prime is simply a “happy and contented” man.  As might be expected, this fomented a fierce debate over the varying ways in which each of us define happiness.  For one of my girlfriends (an artist), who has a super Zen-like personality (always seemingly content with where she is now), happiness equaled security and safety, in knowing that things would at least be as good as they are at this moment because in her opinion, she had a happy home, with two amazing children, she felt free to make choices based on a range of preferences (schools, medical care, food, travel, material items, etc.), and she was still very much attracted to her husband.

For her husband (an entrepreneur) on the other hand—happiness meant being able to continue to take on risk.  Quite the opposite of his wife, he equated risk with freedom; having such freedom made him happy.  In an ideal world, his confidence, gut instinct, creativity and experience, would allow him to continue to take on risk and this in turn would allow him upward economic mobility.  But there was never a guarantee that this would happen and in the past there had been some less successful endeavors.  So this friend, now at age 40, felt he was at a crossroads of sorts—the entrepreneurial spirit in him wanted to leave his current job to pursue something more fulfilling but the current job offered the financial security he and his family had grown accustomed.

For my husband, happiness meant having just enough financial security to be able to eventually change course or direction and pursue more risky, but potentially less profitable professional interests. Of course, exactly what that magic monetary number would be in order to provide “just enough” of a nest egg was absent from his answer.

And then there was me, who felt that the concept of having enough financial security was a constantly moving target, most likely weighted against the financial security that we observe among our peer group—and this measure would invariably limit our mobility and freedom.  From my perspective, we couldn’t rely on financial security alone as the stepping-stone to doing something more fulfilling—to finding greater happiness.

Most people would probably agree that the period in which a person begins to think about the notion of a man in his prime is somewhere towards the middle of ones working life—early 40s (approximately 20 years into ones career and 20 or so years before retirement).  It is during this period of one’s life that we begin to reflect on our achievements to date.  For most men I know, the weight of this achievement rests primarily upon financial successes in the work place.  And these career successes (or failures) invariably factor into their happiness equation.

Perhaps this is partly to do with the fact that men don’t seem to derive their confidence from achievements made in their private sphere in the same way that many women do.  Relative to women, men certainly don’t talk about the intimacies of their private lives—the unique relationships they have with their partners and/or children, the way in which they might successfully manage some household tasks.  My husband certainly relies almost exclusively on me for intimate information about our friends, which I acquire from evenings out alone with the wives.

Without the proper space to discuss achievements made in the private sphere, men are limited to talking or observing each other’s achievements in the public sphere alone. And up until this point in their lives, the public sphere is dominated by work-related discussions.  Women do not suffer from this issue to the same extent, in part because we have more freedom to observe each other’s achievements in the private as well as the public sphere—in fact, I often know very little about what many of my female friends do professionally because we tend to discuss our private lives with much more readiness, especially post children.

To help deal with this 40-something complex, I think it could help to split the way we perceive our lives into three phases:

The first phase beginning at birth and running through to the start of our career—we spend this period of time simply learning about ourselves and shaping our individual identities.  The second phase, say first twenty years of our working/career life, we spend building the infrastructure to support the aforementioned identity we developed during the first phase.  Then in the third phase, we would ideally use that identity (our interests, personality, spirit) and our infrastructure (information, wisdom, skills, access, social capital as well as financial capital) to influence things that lie beyond our immediate household.

This third phase basically involves more than taking on a new (“selfish”) hobby.  It means choosing to do something that is not driven by monetary gains alone.  I believe “a man in his prime”—or a woman in her prime for that matter—is someone who has been liberated from this stereotypical role of financial provider (or at least financial provider alone).  For this to happen, it is critical that we first factor in the range of variables that make up the quality of ones life at the household level, rather than the overall economic worth of the household, to help us become happier with where we are today, right now.  But figuring out how to use our skills to influence at least some aspect of the world around us, outside the our traditional work place, will make us feel part of something greater, more self-less; and this will inevitably help make us happier with where we are going and more connected to our future.  No time you say for all this?  Hogwash.  The more you do the more you do.





Calling all mothers

9 01 2010

Author: girlwithoutawatch

I think one of the most frustrating aspects of becoming a mother is that so much of what we really experience on a daily basis remains an untold story.

‘Happiness is only real when shared.’

This was the last sentence written in the journal of a young man who decided to explore the depths of solitude by way of excluding himself from society; the poor guy ended up dying alone in the wilderness of Alaska. During his time in the wild, he learned skills that he never thought were in his capacity; he gained an intimacy with his environment by observing and analyzing the behaviour of the rough country that surrounded him. During the two years he spent in isolation, there were moments of spectacular significance. Life expressed itself time and time again in completely unexpected ways—there were beautiful as well as brutal surprises and harsh lessons learned.

Unfortunately, however—without anyone there to experience these moments with him—such significant moments invariably lost much of their unique importance. Sadly for him, it was only at the end of his journey when he realized that happiness is only real when shared.

Of course motherhood does not equate to living on one’s own in the Alaskan wilderness. But there is often an extreme sense of isolation that comes from staying at home with one’s children. There are playgroups, meeting up with friends in the park or at the local café for cappuccinos and babyccinos, but most mums we know never manage to string more than a few sentences together before being distracted by a child falling or screaming or hitting or putting something dangerous or dirty in its mouth.

Then there are the husbands/partners, who are (for the most part) eager to hear about the trials and tribulations of the day, eager to hear about these so-called significant moments that we experience with the children.  What we often find is that recounting these moments isn’t easy at the end of a long day.

No, that’s not right. Recounting the moments themselves isn’t difficult but explaining their significance is a much harder task.

Our explanations require the time and the space to philosophise and to add context, in order to provide greater meaning to our seemingly routine activities and linkages to the goings-on of the world around us. Perhaps we begin to doubt our ability to do this when even reading an occasional newspaper seems to be a near-impossible achievement.

But I believe there are concepts that do not require linkages to current affairs or to contexts that are implicitly understood by our partners. Our daily rituals and adventures contain universal concepts that we all relate to and that we all question. If we can harness what we learn and what we think about on a day-to-day basis—all those thoughts we currently allow to be only fleeting—if we can use and link these ideas to more universal concepts, than perhaps our moments of happiness can more easily be shared with others inevitably making our own happiness feel more real.

This blog will be dedicated to the search for such a space–in my average every-day-ness. It will be my attempt of being-in-the-world.

I welcome anyone and everyone to be in this world with me and share anecdotes, thoughts, wishes, just about whatever they fancy.