Some (perhaps most; perhaps all) people are better and calmer than I am, and one of the manifestations of this superiority is to be able to stand back and partake in the wonder of ants: the choreographed movements, the relentless invasions, the thoughtless obedience to the collective. I am too small for that. I did not like my earlier experience with ants in the house. Here's more about ants and me, this time with literary affect:
It's early summer in Austin. The mercury in the thermometer reaches for the sky, where a fiery sun awaits the earth's annual kow tow, a bend at the equatorial hip that allows more of the energy generated in the thermonuclear furnace at the heart of solar system to reach, and stay, in the northernmost half of the big blue marble we call home. In response to this radiant abundance, an entomophobic man with insomniac tendencies contemplates his choices. Attempt to sleep with the heat and humidity, or flick a switch that will send sweet, cool air throughout his apartment, greatly increasing his comfort and his chances of sleep. Given to weakness, the man reaches for the switch. Then it happens:
Nothing. A fan stirs to life, but it's rotations are as impotent as the Mike Ditka without his little pill -- the fan merely circulates the same warm, damp air that initiated the man's attempt at electro-mechanico-chemical transformation of his micro-climate. For what followed, the reader will require little guidance from this writer, such is the quality of previous writers' invocations of nights in such conditions: fevered dreams on a damp pillow; time passing slowly; fans and ice water; bad memories of cheap Hong Kong hostels.
Having reported this failure to my apartment manager the next morning, I was filled with expectations of a quick fix. I returned home from work, however, and the apartment remained haunted by air so thick one could swear that gravity had gone perpendicular; progress across the floor seemed as labored as a climb up the stairs. But then appeared my knight on his white horse; the a/c technician in his white panel van. After a brief hello, it was up to the roof with him, and then, just ten minutes later, a return from on high. Success, he announced. So what had happened?
Ants. So very many ants that their little dead bodies had blocked the switch on my rooftop a/c unit. And then my knight told me a story: the electrical current in the a/c unit apparently gets the ants "high." Unable to control themselves, they continue to seek out the current, even as they climb over the growing mountain of fallen comrades. The stoned ants eventually meet a charge so pure it paralyzes them, their ecstasy preventing them from moving away from the current; their nervous systems, overloaded, shut down and back to karmic wheel they go, leaving a physical manifestation that contributes to the accretion of bodies that will eventually prevent the a/c from working.
Perhaps I am over-emphasizing the ants. Surely, you ask, around the same time, didn't a two-inch roach share your pillow in the night? Why the focus on ants when that roach ruined a good nights sleep more directly than the poor, addicted ants?
Call me a Leninist, but in my little red book collective power remains greater than individual bravery. Yes, the roach that shared my pillow was audacious, and anything that can live in sewer lines is a formidable adversary. And while roaches will outlive humans, I do not see them directly overthrowing us. But the ants - the ants may not just outlast us, but actively destroy us. For instance, by forming super-colonies of acid-flinging crazy ants.
A myth? A result of the fevered dreams on a damp pillow? No, dear readers: the truth. Consider Christmas Island. According to this story from the Austrailian, the ants spray formic acid to blind and paralyze native crabs, leaving them to dehydrate and starve to death. It's threatening the crab's survival, and the fantastic spectacle of 50 millions crabs' annual migration from the rain forest to the shore. Organized adversaries, capable of using chemical warfare to undermine their adversaries? What is to be done?
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Interview with ... And Mao Makes Five bassist Anders Helgen (part I)
Interview with ... And Mao Makes Five bassist Anders Helgen (part I)
Based on my review of their new book, "And Mao Makes Five: Punk Rock, Politics, and Career Advice From What We Hoped Would Be the Cutting Edge," MMF member Anders Helgun contacted me and graciously agreed to be interviewed by Kicking Up a Fuss. Here is part I:
KUF: Let's start with a little bit about you - What do you do now?
AH: As little as possible, really. Preferably at home. Actually, preferably on the couch in the living room at home.
KUF: Is there a name for that profession?
AH: If it's not too politically incorrect, I'd call it a bum.
KUF: Anything you'd like to share with the class about how income is generated on the couch in the living room at home?
AH: Not really, no. Certainly not if law enforcement has access to your blog (laughs).
KUF: We seem to have started off on the wrong foot. How about something a little less contemporary - How did you come up with the name "And Mao Makes Five"?
AH: It's the name of a book. I mean, not our book, an old book, from 1978, by Raymond Lotta. At the time, this is 1981, we knew very little about what had happened or was happening in China. We loved the Gang of Four, the band, and we knew that there was a political grouping of some kind in China called the Gang of Four. We knew that the Gang of Four, both the band and the Chinese group, that both Gangs were associated with revolution. We didn't know much, but we knew we wanted to make revolution. Anyway, there used to be a radical bookstore on the West Bank, near the U [University of Minnesota]. A couple of us were there one day, and Ceac [MMF drummer Cecilia Bjorstrom] found this book called "And Mao Makes Five." Some kind of defense of the True Revolution in China, Mao and the Gang of Four versus Deng Xiaoping. So, I guess we were like, that'd be a cool name for a band: radical, an homage to the Gang(s) of Four.
KUF: The Gang of Four are associated with the Cultural Revolution, and the Cultural Revolution is pretty reviled ...
AH: Yeah, if we'd become famous, it'd be a public relations problem. Like being in a band called Anthrax in 2001.
KUF: Yet you named the book after the band that was named after the people who led the Cultural Revolution.
AH: Very meta - and we're in a meta-age, no? I don't what else we would have named the book, because that failed band experience is what brought the four of us together. I guess we could have consulted a brand consultant, renamed ourselves Altria or Novartis or something.
KUF: Why did you decide to write a book?
AH: Because blogs are lame, and you can't make money off them?
KUF: I'm sensing hostility . . .
AH: Basically, we've all kind of stayed in touch, and a couple of years ago, we were like, "whoa, soon it'll be 25 years since we formed the band. What the hell happened? What does it all mean?" It's our midlife crisis, but instead of a red Corvette, we made a book.
KUF: Has the book helped with the midlife crisis?
AH: Not yet - it hasn't made any money.
KUF: Not to bring up a delicate topic, but through a process of, perhaps gradually, not spending all your time on your couch, you might find a number of ways to make money ...
AH: I will get off the couch to make revolution, not money.
KUF: So you're, what, holding a couch-in for world revolution?
AH: Sometimes I think - can't the fascists take over Spain again and I could join the resistance, and die an honorable death fighting for something good and pure? This death by a thousand cuts stuff, where you do good by attending endless meetings, or pretend to do good by blogging to people who already agree with you, it's not me. I was born in the wrong time. But there's no alternative to the meetings - walking in to my local Citibank branch and offing a bunch of low-level mandarins before being gunned down myself is not death with honor. It's not revolutionary. It's not even interesting.
KUF: Isn't that progress of a sort, to replace the need for violent systemic change with the possibility of peaceful evolution ...
AH: Certainly, because chaos has proven an unstable platform on which to build the New Society. To take the Cultural Revolution, a lot of people involved in it, especially in the early stages, they really were radicals, more radical, I think, than the people in the streets during the Prague Spring, for instance. But the PLA [People's Liberation Army] got involved, and there really was chaos. A lot of the chaos came from above, most of the killing came from above, from the army and government trying to stop something radical from happening and threatening their power base, but it ended up with chaos.
KUF: Creative chaos?
AH: No, not really. After the summer of 1967, there were really only glimpses of anything creative happening. The rest was a show, and it was a cruel and rather useless show. Not that I give a shit what happened to Jung Chang [author of Wild Swans] and her privileged, reactionary family, but it ended up being a period of stagnation, there was a poisonous corruption within most institutions, and it set the stage for the boring re-hash of 19th century England that China is today: sweatshops, expropriated peasants, sovereignty over Hong Kong, the struggle for suffrage, Taiwan playing the role of Ireland, the whole nine yards. Well, that's not right, because there is no empire. I guess China is slavishly copying only 19th century British domestic politics. Undoubtedly it won't end until the Party members have permanent, hereditary representation in a House of Lords.
Anyway, I think the original question was whether the current political situation doesn't represent progress, an improvement over what came before, and I think it is. Only it isn't. What I mean is, sure, peaceful change is better than blood in the streets; having the vote is better than people dying for the right to vote. But there is just this huge gap between what is possible - the kind of wonderful changes that could happen peacefully, and what's actually considered to be possible. Look, really smart, radical people say, "this could happen" or "a better future might look like this." But in reality, the political choices seriously under consideration are remarkably narrow.
KUF: Does the narrowness of political possibility tell us that people have a kind of false consciousness?
AH: I don't think so, I think people are really, actually feeling satisfied with how things are, which just makes me crazy. If I felt that people were living in some sort of bubble, my life could have a goal: to pierce the bubble. Once that happened, they'd see what's what and human society would march forward to the radiant future. That would make me a happier man. You'd ask: "Why are you off the couch today, Mr. Helgen" and I'd say, "Well, Comrade, I am off the couch today because I have to demystify the minds of the masses. It's important work because I'm clearing the path to the radiant future." But I think people are actually satisfied, and it makes me want to put my fist through a wall.
KUF: Is that a parochial perspective -- it seems you are speaking specifically of the U.S.
AH: That's a good point. I am speaking mainly of the U.S. There's at least one thing George Bush and I agree on, and that's that this [the U.S.] is the most important country in the world. We're a model for people all over the world.
If you are looking for seams in the teflon fabric of the current world order, you can find them. In Bolivia, there might be real and important change, fueled by an active, democratic movement. I don't think much that's interesting is happening in Venezuela, although some good may come of Chavez's posturing. The World Social Forum highlights that there is local resistance and innovation across the globe.
KUF: That sounds vaguely optimistic?
AH: It is and it isn't. There is always resistance. At the height of Stalin's power, there was resistance, even organized resistance within the USSR. But resistance isn't power. Remember, And Mao Makes Five was a resistance to Reaganism, and it's ended up with me on the couch. In certain sad individuals, being part of a failed social movement can breed cynicism and apathy.
KUF: Better to have loved and lost?
A: Absolutely, absolutely. And as much as they've been coopted by advertising, cynicism and apathy are probably still better than capitulation and success. I'm not kidding myself about the couch, it's not the seat, as it were, of a new revolutionary movement. But doing nothing doesn't mean I'm not having any effect. My inertia may help slow the momentum toward the complete homogenization of the natural and human world.
Based on my review of their new book, "And Mao Makes Five: Punk Rock, Politics, and Career Advice From What We Hoped Would Be the Cutting Edge," MMF member Anders Helgun contacted me and graciously agreed to be interviewed by Kicking Up a Fuss. Here is part I:
KUF: Let's start with a little bit about you - What do you do now?
AH: As little as possible, really. Preferably at home. Actually, preferably on the couch in the living room at home.
KUF: Is there a name for that profession?
AH: If it's not too politically incorrect, I'd call it a bum.
KUF: Anything you'd like to share with the class about how income is generated on the couch in the living room at home?
AH: Not really, no. Certainly not if law enforcement has access to your blog (laughs).
KUF: We seem to have started off on the wrong foot. How about something a little less contemporary - How did you come up with the name "And Mao Makes Five"?
AH: It's the name of a book. I mean, not our book, an old book, from 1978, by Raymond Lotta. At the time, this is 1981, we knew very little about what had happened or was happening in China. We loved the Gang of Four, the band, and we knew that there was a political grouping of some kind in China called the Gang of Four. We knew that the Gang of Four, both the band and the Chinese group, that both Gangs were associated with revolution. We didn't know much, but we knew we wanted to make revolution. Anyway, there used to be a radical bookstore on the West Bank, near the U [University of Minnesota]. A couple of us were there one day, and Ceac [MMF drummer Cecilia Bjorstrom] found this book called "And Mao Makes Five." Some kind of defense of the True Revolution in China, Mao and the Gang of Four versus Deng Xiaoping. So, I guess we were like, that'd be a cool name for a band: radical, an homage to the Gang(s) of Four.
KUF: The Gang of Four are associated with the Cultural Revolution, and the Cultural Revolution is pretty reviled ...
AH: Yeah, if we'd become famous, it'd be a public relations problem. Like being in a band called Anthrax in 2001.
KUF: Yet you named the book after the band that was named after the people who led the Cultural Revolution.
AH: Very meta - and we're in a meta-age, no? I don't what else we would have named the book, because that failed band experience is what brought the four of us together. I guess we could have consulted a brand consultant, renamed ourselves Altria or Novartis or something.
KUF: Why did you decide to write a book?
AH: Because blogs are lame, and you can't make money off them?
KUF: I'm sensing hostility . . .
AH: Basically, we've all kind of stayed in touch, and a couple of years ago, we were like, "whoa, soon it'll be 25 years since we formed the band. What the hell happened? What does it all mean?" It's our midlife crisis, but instead of a red Corvette, we made a book.
KUF: Has the book helped with the midlife crisis?
AH: Not yet - it hasn't made any money.
KUF: Not to bring up a delicate topic, but through a process of, perhaps gradually, not spending all your time on your couch, you might find a number of ways to make money ...
AH: I will get off the couch to make revolution, not money.
KUF: So you're, what, holding a couch-in for world revolution?
AH: Sometimes I think - can't the fascists take over Spain again and I could join the resistance, and die an honorable death fighting for something good and pure? This death by a thousand cuts stuff, where you do good by attending endless meetings, or pretend to do good by blogging to people who already agree with you, it's not me. I was born in the wrong time. But there's no alternative to the meetings - walking in to my local Citibank branch and offing a bunch of low-level mandarins before being gunned down myself is not death with honor. It's not revolutionary. It's not even interesting.
KUF: Isn't that progress of a sort, to replace the need for violent systemic change with the possibility of peaceful evolution ...
AH: Certainly, because chaos has proven an unstable platform on which to build the New Society. To take the Cultural Revolution, a lot of people involved in it, especially in the early stages, they really were radicals, more radical, I think, than the people in the streets during the Prague Spring, for instance. But the PLA [People's Liberation Army] got involved, and there really was chaos. A lot of the chaos came from above, most of the killing came from above, from the army and government trying to stop something radical from happening and threatening their power base, but it ended up with chaos.
KUF: Creative chaos?
AH: No, not really. After the summer of 1967, there were really only glimpses of anything creative happening. The rest was a show, and it was a cruel and rather useless show. Not that I give a shit what happened to Jung Chang [author of Wild Swans] and her privileged, reactionary family, but it ended up being a period of stagnation, there was a poisonous corruption within most institutions, and it set the stage for the boring re-hash of 19th century England that China is today: sweatshops, expropriated peasants, sovereignty over Hong Kong, the struggle for suffrage, Taiwan playing the role of Ireland, the whole nine yards. Well, that's not right, because there is no empire. I guess China is slavishly copying only 19th century British domestic politics. Undoubtedly it won't end until the Party members have permanent, hereditary representation in a House of Lords.
Anyway, I think the original question was whether the current political situation doesn't represent progress, an improvement over what came before, and I think it is. Only it isn't. What I mean is, sure, peaceful change is better than blood in the streets; having the vote is better than people dying for the right to vote. But there is just this huge gap between what is possible - the kind of wonderful changes that could happen peacefully, and what's actually considered to be possible. Look, really smart, radical people say, "this could happen" or "a better future might look like this." But in reality, the political choices seriously under consideration are remarkably narrow.
KUF: Does the narrowness of political possibility tell us that people have a kind of false consciousness?
AH: I don't think so, I think people are really, actually feeling satisfied with how things are, which just makes me crazy. If I felt that people were living in some sort of bubble, my life could have a goal: to pierce the bubble. Once that happened, they'd see what's what and human society would march forward to the radiant future. That would make me a happier man. You'd ask: "Why are you off the couch today, Mr. Helgen" and I'd say, "Well, Comrade, I am off the couch today because I have to demystify the minds of the masses. It's important work because I'm clearing the path to the radiant future." But I think people are actually satisfied, and it makes me want to put my fist through a wall.
KUF: Is that a parochial perspective -- it seems you are speaking specifically of the U.S.
AH: That's a good point. I am speaking mainly of the U.S. There's at least one thing George Bush and I agree on, and that's that this [the U.S.] is the most important country in the world. We're a model for people all over the world.
If you are looking for seams in the teflon fabric of the current world order, you can find them. In Bolivia, there might be real and important change, fueled by an active, democratic movement. I don't think much that's interesting is happening in Venezuela, although some good may come of Chavez's posturing. The World Social Forum highlights that there is local resistance and innovation across the globe.
KUF: That sounds vaguely optimistic?
AH: It is and it isn't. There is always resistance. At the height of Stalin's power, there was resistance, even organized resistance within the USSR. But resistance isn't power. Remember, And Mao Makes Five was a resistance to Reaganism, and it's ended up with me on the couch. In certain sad individuals, being part of a failed social movement can breed cynicism and apathy.
KUF: Better to have loved and lost?
A: Absolutely, absolutely. And as much as they've been coopted by advertising, cynicism and apathy are probably still better than capitulation and success. I'm not kidding myself about the couch, it's not the seat, as it were, of a new revolutionary movement. But doing nothing doesn't mean I'm not having any effect. My inertia may help slow the momentum toward the complete homogenization of the natural and human world.
Friday, March 16, 2007
. . . And Mao Makes Five
What I'm Reading:
... And Mao Makes Five: Punk Rock, Politics, and Career Advice From What We Hoped Would Be the Cutting Edge.
... And Mao Makes Five is the story of an early 1980s Minneapolis punk rock band. Co-written by the band's four members, the book mines the vast territory between youthful idealism and middle-aged accommodation. Unsurprisingly, the book leaves the reader with more questions than answers about such a vast and personal subject, but the project is infused with enough passion, insight, and (black) humor that you're left wanting to buy the MMF's Greatest Hits.
But no need to rush off to iTunes: "The closest we came to making it," confides the lead singer, "is when somebody from Prince's entourage came up to us after a show (we were the second of three warm up bands at an all-ages benefit for some charity) and said "Prince really loved your cover of [the Rolling Stone's] Paint it Black." Only problem was, a different band had played the song. And even that wasn't much of a chance -- the other band never made it, either. And they had a lot more talent."
The band's name was evidence of its ambition: to build on the musical and political legacy of legendary British band the Gang of Four. A lofty goal, completely unachieved. As a result, the band's members spend the following 25 years figuring what to do with their ambition, their idealism, in short, their lives. Much of the musing has that bittersweet "Reality Bites" self-parody. Is it selling out to work at Barnes and Noble? The guitarist goes through his mental checklist: "Working at soulless multinational. Check. Undermining community and environment through huge box store. Check. But I love books. And can it count as selling out when I make nothing? Can I undo the damage through employee theft? If so, is it more revolutionary to steal "The Making of the English Working Class" than, say, an issue of Blender?"
Ultimately, though, the book seems headed for a rather bleak end. "Today, every progressive act immediately becomes part of a marketing plan. In fact, advertising agencies have time to sit around and think of faux-revolutionary acts, to which we all immediately subscribe, not because we're stupid, but because we are desperate to feel that we're part of something bigger, and more meaningful, than our small, short lives." As befits any band, the darkest assessment comes from bassist: "We now live in a world where the gestures that seem most authentic are backward-looking and destructive, such as fundamentalist movements. Action itself seems antithetical to survival, because everything we do uses resources and contributes to climate change. If we're really killing the planet, can any band be revolutionary when the act of creating or consuming music undermines the material bases for human life?" I'm not quite through the book, so maybe the World Social Forum will appear to lift everyones' spirits . . .
... And Mao Makes Five: Punk Rock, Politics, and Career Advice From What We Hoped Would Be the Cutting Edge.
... And Mao Makes Five is the story of an early 1980s Minneapolis punk rock band. Co-written by the band's four members, the book mines the vast territory between youthful idealism and middle-aged accommodation. Unsurprisingly, the book leaves the reader with more questions than answers about such a vast and personal subject, but the project is infused with enough passion, insight, and (black) humor that you're left wanting to buy the MMF's Greatest Hits.
But no need to rush off to iTunes: "The closest we came to making it," confides the lead singer, "is when somebody from Prince's entourage came up to us after a show (we were the second of three warm up bands at an all-ages benefit for some charity) and said "Prince really loved your cover of [the Rolling Stone's] Paint it Black." Only problem was, a different band had played the song. And even that wasn't much of a chance -- the other band never made it, either. And they had a lot more talent."
The band's name was evidence of its ambition: to build on the musical and political legacy of legendary British band the Gang of Four. A lofty goal, completely unachieved. As a result, the band's members spend the following 25 years figuring what to do with their ambition, their idealism, in short, their lives. Much of the musing has that bittersweet "Reality Bites" self-parody. Is it selling out to work at Barnes and Noble? The guitarist goes through his mental checklist: "Working at soulless multinational. Check. Undermining community and environment through huge box store. Check. But I love books. And can it count as selling out when I make nothing? Can I undo the damage through employee theft? If so, is it more revolutionary to steal "The Making of the English Working Class" than, say, an issue of Blender?"
Ultimately, though, the book seems headed for a rather bleak end. "Today, every progressive act immediately becomes part of a marketing plan. In fact, advertising agencies have time to sit around and think of faux-revolutionary acts, to which we all immediately subscribe, not because we're stupid, but because we are desperate to feel that we're part of something bigger, and more meaningful, than our small, short lives." As befits any band, the darkest assessment comes from bassist: "We now live in a world where the gestures that seem most authentic are backward-looking and destructive, such as fundamentalist movements. Action itself seems antithetical to survival, because everything we do uses resources and contributes to climate change. If we're really killing the planet, can any band be revolutionary when the act of creating or consuming music undermines the material bases for human life?" I'm not quite through the book, so maybe the World Social Forum will appear to lift everyones' spirits . . .
Monday, January 22, 2007
Don't Fear the Reaper
I have a birthday ritual. Every year on my birthday, I go to the gym. I perform the same exercises each year, recording the results and creating a year-to-year record of my inevitable decline. Some might say it shows of my fear of aging rather better than my physical abilities, and there might be some truth to what some might say. And however self-flagellating, it does have the salutary effect of pushing me to the gym in the weeks leading up the Big Test.
This year, circumstances are forcing me to modify the ritual. This year, the game isn't "can I still do this or that," it's "can I remember where I put my exercise record." And the answer is, "no." Which just goes to show that no matter how much you prepare yourself, you won't be ready when the time comes. Or at least, I won't. When the Reaper appears, I am likely to be doing the same thing I am doing when my friends arrive to pick me up to go out: looking for my keys and wallet, and wondering when I am going to create a system so that I can find them without turning the apartment inside out.
This year, circumstances are forcing me to modify the ritual. This year, the game isn't "can I still do this or that," it's "can I remember where I put my exercise record." And the answer is, "no." Which just goes to show that no matter how much you prepare yourself, you won't be ready when the time comes. Or at least, I won't. When the Reaper appears, I am likely to be doing the same thing I am doing when my friends arrive to pick me up to go out: looking for my keys and wallet, and wondering when I am going to create a system so that I can find them without turning the apartment inside out.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Life is Sweet (even if the ants don't know it)
I have ants in my bathroom. Not just a few scout ants, intrepidly braving the space between the floss and the facial moisturizer to determine if there is anything of value on the counter. No, there are ants, plural and many. It’s the kind of thing where I wake up, look in the sink, and cannot count the ants because, well, because there are too many ants to count. I clean relentlessly, at least relative to the pre-ant schedule. When I have a tissue at hand, I squash individuals. I have used ant traps, to no avail; the ants sashay in and out of the traps, but there are always more ants the next day.
I have a tiny apartment; the kitchen is maybe three (human) steps from the bathroom. I have ants in the bathroom but not the kitchen, a situation beyond my comprehension, and apparently beyond the comprehension of the ants as well. Surely, the kitchen is the greener pasture. I have alerted the ants to their folly, but they do not budge.
I mock the ants relentlessly for choosing the bathroom: “I guess the toothpaste tastes a lot better than the ice cream in the kitchen -- which is ten feet away.” Or: “How about I buy you all ‘World’s Stupidest Ant’ t-shirts to commemorate your failure to infest a room with actual food?”
Nothing changes: they stay around the bathroom sink, and won’t leave on account of poison ¬– literal, or the aural venom my wicked words deliver.
So, I have ants in my bathroom. And ants, by my experience, are poor house guests and worse pets. Despite their collective intelligence, as individuals they can’t seem to learn simple tricks like fetching a ball or rolling over.
Failing to eject the trespassers, I try to look on the bright side. Lemonade from lemons and all that. If the ants won’t do anything for me, perhaps I can learn from the ants?
With this shift in perspectives, the ants are not a problem, but an allegory: Aren’t we all a little like ants? At times, don’t we all partake in the ant’s folly? We infest our figurative bathrooms, having less pleasure and more difficulty than if we moved to the kitchen a short distance away?
Distance, the ants might say, is not a fixed thing; our preconceptions trap us. Another person, looking at us, might think it’s the easiest thing in the world to change; but as finite beings, caught in our daily life, we lack the perspective to make a change that would quite simple –if only we saw the alternative.
I have a tiny apartment; the kitchen is maybe three (human) steps from the bathroom. I have ants in the bathroom but not the kitchen, a situation beyond my comprehension, and apparently beyond the comprehension of the ants as well. Surely, the kitchen is the greener pasture. I have alerted the ants to their folly, but they do not budge.
I mock the ants relentlessly for choosing the bathroom: “I guess the toothpaste tastes a lot better than the ice cream in the kitchen -- which is ten feet away.” Or: “How about I buy you all ‘World’s Stupidest Ant’ t-shirts to commemorate your failure to infest a room with actual food?”
Nothing changes: they stay around the bathroom sink, and won’t leave on account of poison ¬– literal, or the aural venom my wicked words deliver.
So, I have ants in my bathroom. And ants, by my experience, are poor house guests and worse pets. Despite their collective intelligence, as individuals they can’t seem to learn simple tricks like fetching a ball or rolling over.
Failing to eject the trespassers, I try to look on the bright side. Lemonade from lemons and all that. If the ants won’t do anything for me, perhaps I can learn from the ants?
With this shift in perspectives, the ants are not a problem, but an allegory: Aren’t we all a little like ants? At times, don’t we all partake in the ant’s folly? We infest our figurative bathrooms, having less pleasure and more difficulty than if we moved to the kitchen a short distance away?
Distance, the ants might say, is not a fixed thing; our preconceptions trap us. Another person, looking at us, might think it’s the easiest thing in the world to change; but as finite beings, caught in our daily life, we lack the perspective to make a change that would quite simple –if only we saw the alternative.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Original Sin
This will be a blog. Not a blog like no other, but a blog like many others. I hope, nonetheless, that it will amuse.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)