gibbs rules

i watch NCIS ... it's not my favorite show, but it is on the comfort list.  i have other shows i definitely like more; mostly with protagonists who are more moody or clearly broken than this show.  this is a feel good, team work, do the right thing, what ever it takes kind of american show.  at the center of it is leroy jethro gibbs and the set of rules that have become known as gibbs rules.

gibbs rules are not unique, most american kids grew up hearing some subset of these from our fathers, coaches, uncles and grand fathers.  some of them come directly from john wayne who taught us to "never apologize mister, it's a sign of weakness", stays on the list of most men; although the better of them break this rule when needed.

having a personal set of rules is part of getting older.  it's a sign of maturity that you have learned so many lessons you need to write them down, or are willing to share them with others.  a personal list may have come with hard lessons, but the lessons are not shared, just the rules.  everyone needs to learn their own lessons, but when they do that's when they might remember someone saying words they didn't really understand at the time.  rules are just words until you have the context to put them in.  some people might be able to follow rules without the lesson, but i need to feel the bruises before i learn the lesson.

in an effort to remember and share, here is my personal list of rules:

1. family first
2. secrets are not secret if anyone knows
3. everybody lies
4. balance requires flexibility
5. to remember it, write it down
6. don't assume, check; then confirm
7. listen, hear, think then talk
8. when in doubt; don't
9. never go anywhere without a knife
10. make a mess, clean it up
11. do what you are, use your strenghts
12. team, corp, god, country
13. it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission
14. bend rules, don't break them
15. swim across a riptide
16. don't apologize; it's a sign of weakness
17. when you are sorry, fix it 
18. if it doesn't hurt, it's not worth the effort
19. you want it, you carry it
20. wanting it is not needing it
21. you need less than you packed
22. carry on, or be left behind
23. slow is smooth, smooth is fast
24. you don't need to to outrun the bear, just the other guy
25. when the map doesn't match the mountain, believe the mountain
26. never swim alone
27. lead, follow or get out of the way
28. promises made are promises kept
29. what is measured improves
30. delegate, trust, then monitor
31. hire, train and get out of the way
32. see one, do one, teach one
33. elegance is engineering without extras
34. nothing lasts forever, enjoy it while it does
35. always be ready to walk away
36. when the ride ends, get off
37. shake hands when the game is over
38. there is always someone better, work harder
39. easy is boring, hard almost never is
40. just good enough usually isn't
41. bad things happen, wear a helmet
42. if paying for it takes longer than the enjoyment, its probably not worth it
43. you don't know enough, keep learning
44. you are going to be wrong, get over it
45. when you're wrong, don't be the last to realize it
46. when you see a contradiction, check your assumptions
47. simple is best, correct is better
48. fear helps you focus, keep moving
49. happiness comes from inside
50. its all about the love

this list is neither complete or finished.  i am hoping to keep learning my lessons and growing the list when new bumps teach me things.  some of these lessons go back to a very early age, some are newer... all are part of me now.  i own the rules, because i have the memories, the scars or bruises, that back them up.

as i type this i am thinking about standing in the kitchen and holding e back from the stove.  i was taking bread out and he wanted to help.  i told him it was hot ... he didn't listen... i stood back and watched him reach out to the door again... the shocked look on his face said it all, he had just learned to not touch the hot stove.  his eyes accused me of burning him and is said, "i told you not to do it, did you learn a lesson?" ... i don't think he even remembers this moment of my sideways parenting.  i wonder if he has a rule that applies?

i mentioned that gibbs is not my favorite character, but a number of my rules are close to his.  one of mine is a direct copy, including the number.  after quoting it to angel too many times to remember, she has just begun to remember it.  now is not the time to change it.

gibbs rules are part of his teaching of staff.  i am not sure how many of my rules any my staff have picked up over the years.  what is more important is that they have rules of their own.  everyone's rules are their own, or should be if they are going to be actually appreciated.

these are mine, if you want your own, remember rule #5.

hacky thoughts

i was sitting in an airplane a few weeks ago, thinking how much i wanted to write.  i have been missing the process, the effort, of casting my thoughts outwards.  i had just had an interesting conversation with the lead flight attendant, the majority of which i have already forgotten.  as i sat there, i considered the coming lose of the thoughts embedded within that conversation.  i knew they would slip away, left to float in the clouds over the great wall of life.  i wondered if the next time we bumped into each other we would even remember that we had met, that we had shared the conversation and smiles it evoked.  was the banter worth having, worth trying to save in any form, even just a memory, or should it be allowed to be lost in the wind.

i have not been writing at all.  it has not been intentional, it just has not come.  my process of writing is to have a random thought and to feel it bounce around inside my head until i get a chance to let it out.  before throwing it out there, i wonder if i could expose the thought to my inner circle.  these are the people who i make the effort to share with.  they are the ones that when i am not with them, i take the time to tell them what i am doing.  they are the ones i imagine around a table enjoying unstructured randomness together.  my circle is not surprised by the randomness, they see it come towards them and they step up and kick the thought in a new direction.

this inner circle is not elitist or ceremonial.  it's not difficult to join, you just help keep the thoughts floating through the air, adding your own spin as you take a turn.  we are like an slacker collection of oddity on the quad, or the relaxed skaters hanging out in the park below trinity church.  people come and go, they join or leave the group without structure or formality.  it's all about keeping the ball in the air and being nimble enough to react to the new direction of a moving thought.  when the thought does hit the ground, there is a laugh, a bit of teasing and someone helpfully adds a new thought and throws it back into the mix.

but what does a player do when there is no circle.  sitting alone watching other jets zip by at the combined speed of modern travel, wondering if there is someone over there looking out their window with their own thoughts, considering what would happen if you had the chance to stand together and share.  randomness comes, but no one is there throw in with.  you might be standing among a group and consider if they would appreciate it when you reached into a bag to take out a colorful package of thoughts.  would they hack in, or stand there wondering why one would want to play?  writing is my attempt to keep that circle going, when time and space keep it apart.

lately, i have not been writing because i have been too busy; which is a convenient lie covered by truth.  i have been busy, but the therapy value of massaging thoughts usually gets prioritized.  the honest reason i have not be writing is that i don't know what i want to share.  i am blocked by an anxiety of the clock.  i remember being in the playground and rather than playing, i was watching for the streetlights to come on.  this was our neighborhood's sign that it was time to go home.  when the streetlights came on, we would burst towards our bikes as the game came to an abrupt end regardless of score.  i have not been playing, because i am watching the streetlights.  i am in the park at the top of caswell ave, it's almost dark but the lights have not come on, the rules say i should be in the game, but i know it's almost time to race.  i have been focused on the ending, because of my inner clock's ticking.

in the mean time, the game is being played around me.  i have been felt my turns for randomness come and go.  i have thought about sharing and have simply let them pass.  the lights have not yet come on, and the game is not ready to end.  playground rules say these moments matter most, playgrounds do not have clocks for a good reason.  having the ability to play, and seeing friends send that thought back through the air is worth ignoring the anxiety of formality.  now is not the time to take yourself out of the game and watch the lights.  the game will end, but for now it's time to hack in and remember that the circle matters.

that flight attendent came back to my seat as i was considering the germ of these thoughts.  she might have thought she was asking about my tea cup sitting alone, untouched, when she asked, "are you done?".  that was the question i have been considering without really knowing it.

i looked up at her and smiled as i replied, "no, i am not".

open door

there are times when you have no other option than to sit with someone you have few other chances to sit with and make small talk. these times are the moments of adulthood that you realize you are an adult. they are the moments that as children you sat on the side and watched adults accomplish seemingly without effort. small talk is about little subjects, but sometimes real interactions happen during these conversations. if you are careful, you might hear something that matters.

i was sitting in an airport with two staff members. we had finished the agenda of the trip and just needed to get on a plane and get home. most of the senior managers in KL would not sit with staff members in this setting. not only would it most likely have been acceptable for me to sit away from the staff and do my own thing, it's highly possible they would have wanted me sit on the other side of the room. being american, deeply believing in egalitarism, pushed me to sit with them and engage in small-talk. i might have wanted to continue reading the book on "relentless capitalism", but instead i talked about micro-sociology.

we came to a point on the open-door policy i have in the office. as each new employee joins our company, they are brought to my office on their first day so i accomplish three tasks, i:

1. welcome them to the company
2. give them a team shirt (we do a new design/color each year)
3. explain my open door policy, and ask them to come back to see me if they need something

one of the staff on the trip with me is a senior contributor who is just moving into a manager role. i have known him for years now, and have watched him grow from a very junior staff member to a emerging leader. he is a standard quiet and respectful asian kid. it was a bit scary when he said, "can i be honest and tell you something?". honesty, rather than distanced politeness, is less than common here than in the US, so my interest was piqued.

he said, "sometimes people might be afraid to come to your office. they are not sure if you are busy, or in a bad mood, so they do not go." there was a pained look on his face while he said it. i could sense he was outside his comfort-zone by telling me this. the asian training to never upset an elder or someone in a position of authority was challenging his new found american group ethic. i sensed this conversation was only happening because of the week he had just spent immersed with a large team of vocal and decidedly less than shy amercians.

i took a beat trying to decide how to respond to this. i have heard it before, a sizable group of the staff do not feel comfortable coming into my office for any reason. they feel as though those who do come in are being treated as favorites and are given special consideration because they get to talk to me one on one. i have been told this on the side, by those who do come to talk to me. usually they say it with a pained look of someone who has experienced peer pressure or abuse.

i asked the young manager i was sitting next to, trying to count the number of times he had come into my office in the 3 years of service and ending with a very low number, why is it my fault that people don't feel comfortable coming in to see me? i meet every single new hire, and tell them the same thing. "come talk to me anytime, i am here to help if you have an issue, or to talk if you want to." some do, most don't. i have asked people to wait while i am finishing something, but i meet with everyone who comes in. if they are not sure if i am busy or in the wrong state of mind, they can ask my assistant, she seems to read me pretty well.

for the ones that do come in and talk, i end up knowing them and having a better idea of what is happening in their lives, both work and away. i recently thanked two staff members who came in together. i remember saying, "thanks for talking to me about this, i am having a tough day and helping you with this will end up being the best part of my day". i am busy most days, i have a tendency to show frustrations; but being here to help is what i consider about half of my job.

everyone is told the same thing, but some hear it and and others don't. i started to think about those who do come in. there is a trend, non-malaysians come more frequently than those born here. those who have gone to school off-shore come more frequently than those who have not. working on a team that i directly manage helps, so does being younger, and being from one of the local ethnic groups seems to lower your likelihood of coming in, while being on another seems to raise it. all of these have been true for years, and all of them are equally true for our attrition rates. or maybe its that people who do come in tend to leave less than those who do not.

so here it is. i have an open door policy, but i can not force them to walk through it. either you trust what i am telling you and come in, or you don't. that is not on me, that is on you. i know you are not used to authority figures doing what they promise you, but hey this could be your chance to see that it can happen. i have an idea:

come in and see if it's true. if it is, go back out that open door and tell others. forget about trust, try some actual proof.

saying nothing

i am not sure if you have noticed, but i have been very quiet lately. i have not been writing. i have not wanted to write, or when i did want to i did not have anything i was willing to say out loud. this blog began as a safe and quiet place for me to put thoughts; over time it has morphed into something else. this private space has become my most public and enduring method of sharing ideas, and that has changed the thoughts i am willing to share. then again, all forms of sharing have changed for me over the past few years.

when i first started writing i created a few rules:

• no names would ever be used, this is about me and my ideas, never about friends
• i would not discuss anything work related
• i would not write a diary or food blog
• i would not comments on the actions of others, most importantly family

i started this looking for an outlet for the ideas what i questioned and wanted to understand better. the context would be close to mathematician who writes equations on whiteboards to build logical models of a complex world. i attempting to do the same and needed a place to put the formulas.

at the same time, i was building an openly public side in both work and life. i was attempting to connect with people who shared very few commonalities. coming to malaysia limited my access to middle aged, irish catholic, liberal arts majors who have the ability to quote complete scenes from movies that feature dan aykroyd. building anything new comes with making mistakes, and being in a brand new environment adds to the opportunity to make even more. the one i made most often was believing that i could be open with people.

i found that openness is not always a good thing. even, or most especially, with those close enough to be trusted. opening the veil allows others to see inside. the lesson learned was that those openings could be shared with others. unless you are ready to share something with everyone, you need to keep yourself shielded by opaque covers. the downside to this is the realization that the burqa obstructs the wearers vision even more than the vision of the eyes trying to be kept out.

this brings me back to my writing. i started this as semi-private way to discuss semi-private thoughts in a semi-anonymous way. these were the thoughts i would previously have shared with loved ones in the privacy of home. but, living far away limited the access to this safe outlet. the last time i had felt this type of need was in college, when i carried notebooks with the same kind of writing. those notebooks were labeled “reflections on malthus”, and also focused on the fast learning of strange ideas i was collecting by spending more than 20K USD per year. money spent to be forced to read, write and think, something i was now doing for free.

craving to have someone listen to you, while you are far away and disconnected, is a strange feeling. but the ability to control the conversation and complete a thought before someone tells you that you’re “being silly” is a powerful drug for someone in recovery. even more so when you realize the reason you are in recovery is that you had burst a seam from the pressure of not exercising this freedom in the first place.

so why have i not been writing? as usual, it’s basically a mix of three things:

1. i have been too busy to exercise in any form
2. i have not had subjects bubbling to the surface, waiting to be discussed
3. i have not felt comfortable with the semi-privacy i have built

someone wise once said, “if you don’t have anything worth saying, don’t say anything at all”. that didn’t make much sense to me then, but lately it has been spot on. when i came close to saying anything, i found i second-guessed myself. normally when i am unsure of the way to go, i crash forward just to see if i was right. lately it has been the mute on the other side of my conscience that has been telling me that “less is more”.

but, this week is different. i am on the beach with the kids, i have a list of titles i want to share, i am close to breaking two of the 4 rules i built when i started. i miss the process of sharing thoughts, and am reminded that veils are like locks on doors; they only keep the honest man out.

saying nothing does not stop the ideas from coming. if is for me to decide for myself that i am “being silly”; and its for others to decide if they want to listen.

saying nothing

it’s been months since i have published. the time has passed and i have had random moments and thoughts, but they have passed without being considered. i have been busy, i have written but allowed the words to be lost in a crash and unrecovered when restarting, i have gotten close and then reconsidered the desire to hit continue. something has stopped me from writing; i can’t seem to commit to the process. i need to figure out what, because my writing had become more than just a thing to do in a café.

i was given some advice last year. the advice was that my writing was too long. i needed to keep it short and get to the point. the advice was professional, and made sense coming from someone who read all my emails on a blackberry, but it has impacted this writing also. i no longer have the time to sit and craft a long message that no one is going to read. i enjoy the process, but it feels like a waste. i feel the muse moving away, pushed because she is impatient. she wants to get to the point, but it was never about getting to the point; it was seeing where the journey would take us. the muse has been driven away by the boredom and frustration of waiting and i remain on the wandering path.

i read a book a few weeks ago on a plane. the book started as a discussion of why talk therapy is a better solution to alternative psychological states than drugs. the basic premise was that talking allows people in need to get in touch with the deeper cause of their issues. when patients come in to discuss a recent tragedy, they tend to also discuss long ago events. they spend time passing through their lives one painful memory at a time. the author was advocating a culture of listening rather than medicating as a solution to finding solutions.

beginning to write was a way to talk things out. at a time when i was experiencing so many new things, and reconsidering many old, i found digital words to be therapeutic. capturing the moment, thinking through the entire thought, felt right. too many moments had simply passed away and were fading over time. it felt empowering to stop and remember, to realize that new moments were happening and would not just fade as easily into the past. events could be shared, if not immediately then someday in the future when someone took the time to listen.

but part of writing is about trust. trusting yourself to let go and allow yourself to open up, and trusting your readers to listen to your words and not filter then through their preconceptions. we all have cognitive structure bias, those thought patterns that allow us to skim along and make fast judgments in a chaotic world. we hear what we expect to hear, see what we expect to see and add or subtract as needed to fit the world into our comfortable pre-conceived forms.

the issues start when you realize that your readers do not have the same bias as your own. i had a college professor who did an exhibit the semester after i took his art appreciation class. i went to the exhibit with a friend and we stood in front of the work displaying willows on a snow covered field. my friend commented that the work was just about white trees, but i sensed something different. the professor had lost his wife and daughter in a car accident a year before, and as i looked at the center trees, i saw the blackness of the deep forest behind. the work was about the dark depth and the importance of the individual trees, two that i sensed to be missing from the stand on that cold winter day after a new snowfall.

other people’s biases impact our work, they stop them from seeing the truth, and after a while you wonder if there is any reason to keep talking. if they are just going to read their lives into the work, why do you keep making the effort? if you do work you may not publish; no risk of going public ruining it. you need to learn to stack your art in the corner and let it wait for a difference audience.

maybe i have been avoiding writing because i had nothing to say, or maybe because i didn’t trust myself to open up enough to make the process worthwhile. but it could also be that the thoughts are not ready to be added to the cornered pile.

then again, the real issue could be that sitting and doing nothing is easier than working on something that would be read through filters of bias.

/***********************

there is an old irish saying: "say nothing, till you hear more". sometimes, less really is more.

************************/

leaning perfect

i had a date with a strange {almost} chinese girl last night. we have been trying to get together for months. we kept scheduling, but one thing or another came up. we would discuss what we were going to do, i would go to her office to draw up a plan, later we would bump into each other in a DVD shop and the dates would change. we finally spent some real time together and although i really enjoyed myself, it was just not the night that i had hoped for (although it was better than i had hoped). the need for things to be perfect got in the way, at the last minute we pulled back and decided to get back together today and decide what to do next. every encounter leaves a permanent mark on us, so i would rather wait to make sure this one is the best it can be.


the night started by sitting on the couch and waiting for her to get ready. i was a few minutes late, and i thought she would be all set; but she decided to change at the last minute. she had friends sitting around on the couch, and the moments of politely sitting while they discussed betty and veronica cartoons in a rojak of english and chinese was surreal. i never really read the archie comics, i was more of a novella reader as a child, but here were a group of adults that clearly enjoyed the art and substance of a classically amercian comic. (note: veronica has the dark hair, and she "is" the hot one)


she finally called me into her room. she was smaller than i remembered her. but she had a strength and was fully in control of the situation. she talked for a few minutes as she began to work. i assumed it was to put me at ease when she opened by asking if i was worried, and used the word virgin as a friendly taunt. i thought that she might enjoy watching big guys who are used to being in control come to her and defer all control to her. i watched as she sized me up while we talked and noticed as she shifted her approach after quickly profiling me. she said she could tell i was not a square and wanted to make sure i was okay with the pain to come.


i was, i told her i was fully in her control. she needed to lead and i would simply relax and enjoy the experience. she seemed surprised by this possibly thinking i was just being stoic. maybe she was right, she is a professional and has done this many times. when she began to clean me up, and then rub some lotion on my skin i asked a question, which made her smile. she answered me with a bit of edge and asked if i was having second thoughts. second thoughts were behind me, i was committed to this. i was just hoping the experience would be something close to what i hoped for.


that was when her boyfriend came in, she had mentioned him as we had talked. he sat down and smiled at us. clearly he was part of the family, no different than "boy" who had been floating in and out of the studio as she had been getting me ready. by this time i was lying down on a bed in the middle of a brightly lit room, stretched out in a crucifix like pose with alcohol being repeatedly rubbed on my arm. she asked if i would take off my shirt, i told her i was comfortable if she was; again she was skeptically surprised at how comfortable i was for a virgin.


we spent three hours together. she brought the session to a close by admitting her frustration. she had been trying to make things just perfect, but decided it was time to stop so she could go home and reconsider the approach. i had thought things were great, but clearly she saw something i did not, and given she was the professional and this was my first time, i was more than happy to go with her vision.


it has taken months for me to get this far; years actually. there is no reason to push and accept something less than perfect. this will be something i need to carry with me for the rest of my life. once my leaning perfectionist is happy with her work, i will proudly be a different person. i will have the marks to prove it, marks i will either show or hide based on the situation, but this is something i will need to except and enjoy for the a long time.


we are getting back together this afternoon. there is a promise of two new designs, one iban and another maori. i feel a bit like a large piece of white marble with the little artist standing in front of me envisioning the sculpture within. i have a shaved arm, with exposed white skin showing the shadows of yesterdays free hand drawings. i have an artist who cares enough to get it right; to expose the dark lines hidden beneath the white skin. lines that only she can see until she brings them from where they are hiding within.


the fact that she spent three hours re-drawing lines on my body, while discussing relationships, addiction, parental expectations, teaching styles, bondage and personal hygiene... well, don't let her know that some of her customers might come for the conversation as much as the art-work.


in borneo, it's all about the conversations and the permanent marks it leaves.

asian openness

i have been having a running debate with a friend for the past few days; and with myself for much longer.  the debate centers on the  relative levels of cultural openness that the asian and western life allows... or is it expects.  let's set the stage here by having me stipulate, i try not believe one way or the other is correct.  but, hope we can admit that having grown up in one it is hard to understand the other.

this thought has been front and center for me for the past few weeks.  it was sparked by a chance meeting in a parking garage.  i walked up to an auto-pay machine that had a family standing around it waiting for the elevator.  the 6 year-old son stood in front of the machine pretending to push buttons.  you could see the desire to actually use the machine.  the painful suppression of those urges was clearly visible to a father of boys with much less restraint.  i smiled at him and handed him my card to put into the machine.  he burst into a smile and looked at his mother for permission.  i said to him, "go ahead, it's fine" 

when we were done paying my fee, i turned and handed him a ringget for his help.  his mother, a pretty chinese woman, reached into her bag to hand me something in return.  i thought i might be receiving a card and an offer for a future coffee.  that was destroyed when she said, "you should try my product, it is a juice that will help you lose weight". 

the first time i was publicly told i was fat was years ago in the US.  i was in boston, shopping for running shoes in a store owned by a famous marathoner.  i had just won a 10K race, and was quite happy with my fitness level.  the shoe guy looked at me and suggested i give up my nike air-max and try a new balance saying, "these are very popular with heavier runners".  

who the hell was he talking too?  wait, it was me.

the juice lady had just taken this to a whole new level.   sure, the shoe guy knew i was trying to be fit and the juice lady could have been confused by the bag of nachos i was taking home for dinner during conference calls.  but even by deliberately open-western standards, telling a complete stranger they are fat is considered rude in most of the world.

i have come to anticipate this over the past few years.  i have been asked by women i barely know if i want to "see if we work", if we do i can get them a green card to the US.  i was asked by a neighbor one morning at 8 AM while riding down the elevator clearly dressed for a run (shorts, t-shirt and a water bottle on my belt), if i was headed to the pub.  when asked why she thought that she replied, "well, you are white, i just assumed".  

i was asked on a first date what it was like to be a "sex-addict".  i put my fork down on my salad plate and stared into the woman's questioning gaze.  i hesitantly asked, "do i seem like a sex addict to you?"  images of wilt chamberlin and david duchovny floating in my head.  i watched her expression change to confusion.  she slowly replied, "well, all mat salleh are... aren't they?"

it would be one thing if this meant that all conversations can just be direct and open.  they can not, in fact, much here is kept hidden.  it's just that mat salleh are fat, drunk, sex addicts who have no feelings and can asked for money or employment permits with no previous connection. 

it is okay to gossip about people if they are seen together, but you can not ask a married person a question about their spouse.  it's okay for people to share salary and bonus information, but when someone resigns they consider the new employer's name P&C.  it appears to be standard to escalate an issue to a manager, and then become upset if the manager acts on the information.

i have sometimes wondered if it's considered acceptable to lie, as long as the person you are talking to knows your lying.  i wanted to ask someone, but i wasn't sure if they would tell me the truth.

i was talking to a friend the other day.  he was telling me that he is amazed by western parents.  we treat our children as friends, and accept that they have free will and desires of their own.  he told me his parents would not accept his getting an apartment and having his long-term girlfriend sleep over.  this is not a high school or college student.  it's a professional who travels internationally for work and has real responsibility in his life.  

if you can not be open with the people who are closest to you, why would you be open with anyone?  this is like making love with someone, striping away all barriers, sharing the most intimate parts of yourself to form a connection with them; then listening to them go into the bathroom, close the door you barely realize exists and clicking the lock to keep you out.  this small sound can be deafening, because it locks away any trust you thought had been opened.

if asked they might say, "it's just a small matter".  but it's not, not to someone that struggles to remove their own barriers.  hearing the click of the lock, watching the practiced blankness of guarded expression, or having someone tell you something that simply fails the test of "plausible deniability" is common place here.

my father taught his kids, "you can ask any question, but you need to be able to deal with the answer".  this is a lesson that is clearly not part of the culture.  but he also taught us  to respect distance while accepting people for who they are.  this is a lesson i would not survive here without...

maybe i need to bring my father here and let him loose.  that would be an interesting experiment.

/**********************************************

short footnote: 

i did ask the juice lady if she thought this was acceptable behavior, she handed me a second flyer with before and after pictures of her in a bikini.  she told me the product had helped her and her husband both loose weight.  i told her she might be able to soften the pitch if she started with the picture of her in a bikini, both before and after were very nice.

she stopped as she huddled her clan into the waiting elevator.  she smiled at me, pointed to her number and suggested we could discuss it over coffee.

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past lives

as things happen in your life, as you meet people, as you experience new places or walk through a city you are constantly putting the people, places and events into context based on your past experiences. as i have been here in asia i have met people who believe in many things that i was told as a child do not exist. growing up irish catholic in the US, there were many things i was told that existed, but would never be able to see or touch, i just needed to believe. there were other things that i was told where simple figments of the imagination, which i should not be tricked by and that should never be trusted no matter how real they appeared.

i have come to see some of these things in a new light. both the things i was told to believe and those i was told not to have come into question. this is not uncommon as you experience a new culture, meet new people. what is new is the complete acceptance of these ideas. i have always been flexible and accepting of differing points of view. it may come from my pleasure at taking the counter point in any discussion where the other person is sure they are right. the pleasure is even more intense if the other person opens believing there is no validity in the opposite point of view.

it may also come from a movie shown in science class in 6th grade (is that standard 6 here?). the movie showed two people on a rotating disk, picture a merry-go-round without the horses, where one throws a ball to the other. from the viewpoint of someone standing on the side, the ball goes straight while the riders move around. when they placed the camera from the viewpoint of the rider throwing the ball, the ball appears to wildly curve to the side.

this simple experiment was meant to show the rotation of the earth and to explain a bit of physics to a group of irish catholic boys who may have otherwise believed an unmoving hand moved the ball to the side. for me it proved that point of view had much to do with the interpretation of the events.

when an old friend contacts you out of the blue, and the timing adds extra impact to over events that are happening in your life, do you believe it’s a coincidence or is somehow related? if you meet someone, and realize you have met them before, is the connection part of that chance set of events or something larger? when you are with someone you barely know, and you feel comfortable beyond all reasonable explanation, does it throw up a wall of doubt and guarded protection, or does it bring a sense of relaxation and warmth?

the point of view for the viewer of course is related to prior events of the viewer. more surprisingly, as i am exposed to asia and it’s people, i am coming to believe that the hindus had something in the belief in past lives. this teaching is not part of catholic doctrine, but i was told of past lives first my by devote grandmother. nana taught me that if you were not clearly good or bad in life, you would be sent back to “try again”. clearly, coming back would only be useful if some of the past were left as echoes you could hear when you listened to yourself. this, in the western context would be your conscience; your inner voice of past experience, reminding you why things are right or wrong.

if i believe nana, it is not just the past lives of this life, but those of other lives that are affecting us. it is not just the person who you loved a few years ago you are remembering and missing, but the one you loved in another time and another place. past lives from this life do impact you, they do come to mind, they do help us to remember what is important or right for us. but the echoes of the “past past” are there also. the feelings can be there if you are open to sensing the flows, listening to your voice and accepting the validity of what you sense is right. just like the ball thrower, sometimes the sense that something unseen is affecting events, is real. life is like physics, unknown energy is flowing through and around us. the gravity of time and space, the light of life, the heat of relationships are with us always.

we just need to accept and believe.

what is beauty?

have you ever tried to explain beauty? what we think is beautiful is so individualistic, each and every one of us can view a work of art, a building, a color or a person and be affected by it in ways that are different from someone else. this is one of the things that make the world an interesting place. our ability to appreciate things differently is a core element to who we are, what a boring world it would be if we all agreed on the idea of beauty. but there are also things, people or concepts that seem to be transcendent. beauty comes in many forms, and form is one of the main elements of what is beautiful.

as i write this, i am sitting next to an asian garden; the water fountain is simply beautiful. the center urn has water pouring gently into the basin; the four pedestals on the corners are wood with plaster forms cast as flowers which are back lit from the inside. the light gently illuminates the surrounding area. each pedestal has a planter on top holding a plant with is moving in the breeze. would anyone look at this and see it as anything but a beautiful setting? possibly.

beauty for me is a complex form which appears simple, or elegant in design. the elements which make up the whole are complementary, they do not appear to be at odds with one another, and they help the viewer to understand or see the object without causing one element to appear out of place or opposing to the nature of the thing.

i also like repetition of form. when a simple element is repeated, making the design easier to anticipant, i seem to be more comfortable with the object more quickly. i can view the object from one small area and not be shocked to see the next area, it appears comfortable and familiar to me. objects which do not have this composition are constantly being reevaluated as you see them from new sides or angles.

these personal preferences mean that i like simple clean architecture with the layers of frank lloyd-wright, but am less taken by gothic architecture. mandelbrot art is complex and elegant to me, where as salvador dali is hard to be comforted by, as though constructed to make interpretation difficult. both are complex but the latter has intentional complexity, the former is simple parts multiplied and repeated. louis armstrong or elle fitzgerald are warm and inviting where modern fusion can be almost uncomfortable for me to listen to. a bright red sky of a sunset, with a gentle breeze on the skin is much more enjoyable than the harsh wind-blown morning of the stormy day which follows.

this brings us to beauty in people. what makes someone beautiful? it is much, much more than physical beauty. when you meet someone, you see the public face, the formal outer most layer of that person. if the meeting is part of a scheduled event, most likely the presentment will be the most polished and scrubbed face they have. they will have taken special care to look good, will be on their best behavior and will be using the formal conversational arts that we learn to make people like us. this is not who the person is, it’s who they want people to think they are. if that is the case, can you decide based on this if the person is beautiful? is this surface, carefully constructed, presentation a fair representation of the person?

over time, as you spend time with people, the public face becomes stripped away. layer by layer the person is exposed. some people are more or less forth coming with this exposure. i have a person who i was very close to, who sometimes i think i never really knew. the face shown to the world, was infrequently the true face, the face without the make up used to mask any emotional wrinkles that come with age or stress through life.

for people, beauty to me is still an appreciation of simplicity, openness, ease of understanding. a beautiful person is someone who is truthful, with who they are; even to themselves. they are hopeful and confident. they know where they are going in life and are happy to have someone fun along for their journey. they may have a history of broken travel plans, but they are resilient to the pains of travel and know how to see things in the best possible light. they also realize that everyone else is also on a journey, some are rushed, some just want to sit in the airport lounge and rest, and some are standing trying to find a map and to decide where to move next. a beautiful person would take the time to help these others, would talk to some who looked like they needed a friend.

beautiful people are much more than skin deep, they are beautiful all the way down to their core. the first beautiful person i knew in my life was my grandmother, she was not a classic beauty, but she was a person who lived a proud and purposeful life. she cared for her children and grandchildren, she had friends who meant something to her, and she had a career that was more than a mundane job which she did because she had to. she had pride in herself and her life. nana was one of the most beautiful people i have ever known.

beauty is happiness, compassion, empathy, forgiveness, strength, confidence and openness. it is not the number of wrinkles on your face. the shape of your body parts might come into it both for the first meeting and for how you feel about yourself, but that is not who someone is. we will all be 90 someday; if we are lucky. by then, we will be wrinkled and saggy for sure. i hope to still be active, i hope you are too, but we will not be super models. the beautiful parts of us can still be there though if we care for them and make sure we work to keep them as fit as we have our physical bodies.

social contract

i watched a few strange interactions over the past week that have lead me to ask, what is our responsibility to others who have passed through our lives, when they show up at our door step later. the over riding question is, when someone we cared about at one time shows up and asks for help, forgiveness or simply our attention, what are we obligated to do?

what if a person who was hurt deeply by a former love is asked to forgive the person and accept them back into their lives. you can imagine the stage setting; the regretful person made mistakes and after a long contemplation period now realizes the error of their ways. the fact that apologies have been a standard element of the relationship for years, with formerly unfulfilled promises of correction, is somewhat lost in the newest round of assurance. would any level of guarantee motivate one to turn their back on the clean break and potential cheerful future that new relationships could bring?

this person has hurt us in the past, and is fully capable of doing it again. we have loved the person, still love them probably. when is the time to close your heart to them and stop believing that our love will be enough to change them? when will moving on not feel like a betrayal of the obviously weak willed person, yourself and the loved ones who are in the middle.

what if a single person were confronted with need from with two former lovers on the same day? each comes hoping for a place to stay, temporarily of course, as a bridge while they are recovering from being ejected from their homes for real or suspected ill doing. in this case, neither of the culprits had done anything hurtful to the requested, not recently anyway. any evil doing was done to others, and although the effects had washed over the person they were now seeking shelter from, there was never any direct intent to hurt that person.

does one need to choose between these two sorry souls, who were supposedly wrongly accused of the crimes they were being punished for? the fact that proof was readily available can be discounted. the crimes were not directed at you, does it matter that crimes were committed? there is a person in need, a friend, someone you cared for in the past. when do you decide that the best thing for them is to suffer the punishment, humiliation and sorrow that will come from having to fully face the impact of their actions?

what if there was never any crime, real or imagined. you simply had a person who touched your life in a gentle and quick way. sometime in the future they drift back into your sphere of reality, either by chance or choice. this would be someone who was never really a part of your life in a meaningful way, but who could have been if timing or circumstances were different. one day they are in front of you, a chance meeting, an unexpected sms, a phone call with a voice that jars you from your comfortable reality to one where you remember an almost forgotten friend.

when this happens and they ask you for your help, your time or your attention what are you to do? the social contract would say you must return the attention you are given, be kind and generous with your time. but what if others have now entered your life, or if you are simply comfortable with your situation as it exists and you do not want to muddy the waters by adding more feet splashing in the puddles.

in all of these cases there is someone standing in front of you hoping for you to show interest, compassion or empathy for their situation. they may need you because there is no where else to turn, they may simply want you because they know you are someone who will not say no, they may not truly understand what they are asking for or why.

a common refrain is “everyone lies”. when do you need to over look that and continue to help those who ask you for it? does it ever matter, even if you know someone is lying to you, or possibly even to themselves, do you have the right to say no to someone who asks you for something?

my choice to answer all of these questions is to say, if the person has the ability, not the intent, the simple ability to hurt me or those i care about, especially if they have proven on more than one occasion that they are willing to do it, then the social contract is void and self preservation comes into play. no one has the right to hurt others and use our own good nature or feelings to manipulate us into either allowing it or to become an accomplice.

other people just reenter our lives at times that accepting them would be in one way or another uncomfortable to us. honest and good people will understand when we tell them why we can not help them. other times we simply need to understand that as adults we need to do things that are uncomfortable. that’s what life is, making tough choices.