Greetings,
I am sitting here this morning in a food court at Logan airport contemplating the bits of flotsam and jetsam of life.
Well, to be honest, I do this a lot.
The human experience is always a fascinating bundle of serendipitous events that are sometimes connecting, and other times just a bunch of co-inquidinks.
When I was a kid, I played in the Little League, always loved that name, and sometimes I still feel like I am in the Little League, but I digress.
I wasn't very good as a ball player at that age, and only marginally improved as I got larger and played in the Larger League in high school.
My problem was that I couldn't catch the ball when it was hit to me. However, one time while I was playing left field, another appropriate place for me, the ball came and with a hand up the ball suddenly jumped into my glove.
Stunned, I looked into my hand to see the ball there and not somewhere at my feet. What miracle of cosmic forces had deemed it right for my hand to have been in the right place at the right time?
Certainly it was some synergy of divine will.
Pondering this at age 12, I broke myself out of this meditation to look up to see the other kids running, shouting, and otherwise trying to get my attention.
What to do next?
Life is really all about the handoff. I have learned this little tidbit of life's processes on many occasions. It is not that you do something right or wrong, accidental or not, but what you do next.
Not really knowing what to do next with the ball, I grabbed it and threw it in the direction of the dugout where I was sure someone else would know what to do with it.
Not the best handoff, but one that was successful in that now someone else had the ball and my small heroics, which for me was still making my heart beat wildly with the thought I had actually done something significant to the game, was filling my head with pride and fear.
God knows, I might have to do it again.
As a historian, also in the Little League, I read a lot. I was struck recently by a passage in a book on the Pacific War (WWII against the Japanese). The fatalism of the Japanese when the generals and admirals knew the war was lost, but they continued to fight anyway, sacrificing a great majority of their generation in battles that had no meaning except in the honor of not having given up, because, frankly, they didn't know how to surrender, a handoff to their nation's people that would have avoided greater disasters ahead for them.
But they were believing hard in the myth of their divine providence and their invincibility, even when it had been shown that they had none. It was all they had in their bag of beliefs.
It is difficult for me to admire that mentality. Because, expecting to lose, experienced men made mistakes that junior officers would not have. They marched into battle, or sailed, as the case may be, with the idea that they had already been beaten, thus their actions reflected those of doomed men, instead of those with the courage to make decisions that were aggressive with the idea they could win for the moment.
Very un-bushido of such a bushido warrior country.
Their hand off was even less heroic than my own.
Their gods of war and personal sacrifice failed them and their belief in those gods had failed.
Doomed, they blundered forward committing national suicide as the perverse manifestations of their empty ambitions.
The collected wisdom of their ideas were awash with failure, assuming they had failed before the battle had even begun, and unable to manage the deeper meaning of that failure they thought death in battle the only way out.
Who knows, there may still be some ancient Japanese soldier lurking in the jungles of the Philippines, holding out against the sweep of history as it lurches forward.
What happens when a society loses its belief system, the faith in the ideas that underpin its daily progress? Not good things.
But it is that way for individuals too. What happens next? Do we give up in the face of failure, handing the ball off carelessly to the next without the wisdom of what we have done or accomplished? And, how do we judge failure to begin with?
Good question, Tim. Go to the head of the class.
My own feeling is that I despise negativity, either the self-righteous who predict doom at every turn, or the careless weakness of those who have given up to their own nihilistic world and want everyone to be sucked down the rabbit hole with them.
While I fight my delaying action against illnesses, that has in some cases it has been a significant battle that has almost taken me down, I have maintained my inner sense that I am still going to live and laugh another day.
I do not feel the doom of defeat, because my expectation is not that I have lost, like those poor Japanese who surrendered not to their enemies but to the failure of their beliefs. My expectation is that life is what it will be. I have lived longer than god intended, saved a few times by medical intervention, so I am hanging around knowing, like we all should, that life is a terminal experience, and I am enjoying it the best I can when I can. There is really nothing wrong with having a little fun from time to time. I see so many people that forget that.
For those people that keep me in their prayers, thoughts, and otherwise think positive things about me and anyone else in their lives, who may need some human kindness, that is the real handoff we give in life, to connect ourselves to one another, maintaining the tribe, the sacrifices we make to sustain the tribe, and the belief that our actions today through faith, philosophy, and friendship, leaves some mark on those that we pass along to the next generation, should they be willing to learn it.
some random thinking, tim
I am sitting here this morning in a food court at Logan airport contemplating the bits of flotsam and jetsam of life.
Well, to be honest, I do this a lot.
The human experience is always a fascinating bundle of serendipitous events that are sometimes connecting, and other times just a bunch of co-inquidinks.
When I was a kid, I played in the Little League, always loved that name, and sometimes I still feel like I am in the Little League, but I digress.
I wasn't very good as a ball player at that age, and only marginally improved as I got larger and played in the Larger League in high school.
My problem was that I couldn't catch the ball when it was hit to me. However, one time while I was playing left field, another appropriate place for me, the ball came and with a hand up the ball suddenly jumped into my glove.
Stunned, I looked into my hand to see the ball there and not somewhere at my feet. What miracle of cosmic forces had deemed it right for my hand to have been in the right place at the right time?
Certainly it was some synergy of divine will.
Pondering this at age 12, I broke myself out of this meditation to look up to see the other kids running, shouting, and otherwise trying to get my attention.
What to do next?
Life is really all about the handoff. I have learned this little tidbit of life's processes on many occasions. It is not that you do something right or wrong, accidental or not, but what you do next.
Not really knowing what to do next with the ball, I grabbed it and threw it in the direction of the dugout where I was sure someone else would know what to do with it.
Not the best handoff, but one that was successful in that now someone else had the ball and my small heroics, which for me was still making my heart beat wildly with the thought I had actually done something significant to the game, was filling my head with pride and fear.
God knows, I might have to do it again.
As a historian, also in the Little League, I read a lot. I was struck recently by a passage in a book on the Pacific War (WWII against the Japanese). The fatalism of the Japanese when the generals and admirals knew the war was lost, but they continued to fight anyway, sacrificing a great majority of their generation in battles that had no meaning except in the honor of not having given up, because, frankly, they didn't know how to surrender, a handoff to their nation's people that would have avoided greater disasters ahead for them.
But they were believing hard in the myth of their divine providence and their invincibility, even when it had been shown that they had none. It was all they had in their bag of beliefs.
It is difficult for me to admire that mentality. Because, expecting to lose, experienced men made mistakes that junior officers would not have. They marched into battle, or sailed, as the case may be, with the idea that they had already been beaten, thus their actions reflected those of doomed men, instead of those with the courage to make decisions that were aggressive with the idea they could win for the moment.
Very un-bushido of such a bushido warrior country.
Their hand off was even less heroic than my own.
Their gods of war and personal sacrifice failed them and their belief in those gods had failed.
Doomed, they blundered forward committing national suicide as the perverse manifestations of their empty ambitions.
The collected wisdom of their ideas were awash with failure, assuming they had failed before the battle had even begun, and unable to manage the deeper meaning of that failure they thought death in battle the only way out.
Who knows, there may still be some ancient Japanese soldier lurking in the jungles of the Philippines, holding out against the sweep of history as it lurches forward.
What happens when a society loses its belief system, the faith in the ideas that underpin its daily progress? Not good things.
But it is that way for individuals too. What happens next? Do we give up in the face of failure, handing the ball off carelessly to the next without the wisdom of what we have done or accomplished? And, how do we judge failure to begin with?
Good question, Tim. Go to the head of the class.
My own feeling is that I despise negativity, either the self-righteous who predict doom at every turn, or the careless weakness of those who have given up to their own nihilistic world and want everyone to be sucked down the rabbit hole with them.
While I fight my delaying action against illnesses, that has in some cases it has been a significant battle that has almost taken me down, I have maintained my inner sense that I am still going to live and laugh another day.
I do not feel the doom of defeat, because my expectation is not that I have lost, like those poor Japanese who surrendered not to their enemies but to the failure of their beliefs. My expectation is that life is what it will be. I have lived longer than god intended, saved a few times by medical intervention, so I am hanging around knowing, like we all should, that life is a terminal experience, and I am enjoying it the best I can when I can. There is really nothing wrong with having a little fun from time to time. I see so many people that forget that.
For those people that keep me in their prayers, thoughts, and otherwise think positive things about me and anyone else in their lives, who may need some human kindness, that is the real handoff we give in life, to connect ourselves to one another, maintaining the tribe, the sacrifices we make to sustain the tribe, and the belief that our actions today through faith, philosophy, and friendship, leaves some mark on those that we pass along to the next generation, should they be willing to learn it.
some random thinking, tim
I have seen too many people give up when the their lives seem too bleak, especially when it comes to illness. One thing I learned from watching my family member's experiences surviving cancer is just what you teach-that a person's attitude has just as much effect on healing as any treatment. We can also find life's serendipitous moments as long as we move forward with faith.
ReplyDeleteYou should read my dear friend Connie's article about aging with hope, and what she does to enjoy the process. The two of you seem like kindred spirits. http://goo.gl/SLgxfG
thank you for such a kind response, and yes, reading article now. tim
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