Spirit of the Mist

"To see a world in a Grain of Sand,
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour."

William Blake (1757-1827)

This is a sacred place of great mystery and spirituality for over ten thousand years. I am but only one of millions over the centuries that have come to witness this spectacular force of nature born of water and rock. A steady stream of cold water runs down my chest forcing me to grasp in short elevated breaths as the mist surrounds me in a white shroud of moisture. Wind drives raindrops against my exposed face unable to see in alabaster blindness, I shift my footing to regain balance. The roar of a million lions would be lost like a falling leaf in a great forest as the tidal wave of sound that assaults the senses. The earth quivers from the power of billions of tons crashing from the sky to ground below. For the briefest of moments we collectively discover how insignificant our life is within the context of this surreal world, humbled by a scale that is difficult to comprehend, yielding to a power that is immeasurable in one’s mind. All my concerns, worries and thoughts erode from the soul in presence of the sublime.

Never before have I been able to find such spirituality with nature while standing shoulder to shoulder in a crowd of hundreds. Assessing the sublime beauty of nature in the past has always been a solitary endeavor requiring silence and reflection as it systematically revealed itself in an intimacy of a new lover. Seldom can I recall the spirituality of nature being so literal and bold, untamed as it screamed to your soul to listen as you have never listened before. As if it was a sign of divine intervention the grey day broke the exact moment before the object of our journey was revealed to our timid eyes. The fog surrounding everything begins to glow with an angelic softness and light. The roar intensifies as it shakes the flesh, while the wind howls with rich organic breath of the essence of all life. Bodies shift and clamor to steady themselves against each other as the footing bounces and bucks like a wild mare. Nothing in life could prepare me for the vision that emerges from the glowing cloud of mist as I try to comprehend the wispy transparent spirits that dance in the fog like jesters swirling on the air in the court of the king. Each gust of water laden air makes the snowy spirits spin in pirouettes as I wipe the dew from my brow. Each of us is covered in a thin blue plastic veil which bellows and balloons around us like a legion of monks huddled before the mouth of a hurricane.

Suddenly the cloud of mist parts revealing a wall of water falling from the sky hundreds of feet above, as a slight sliver of blue sky trace the top of the cascading torrents of water with white cottony clouds dances with soft misty fog blending into a glowing frame in which to view this majestic fury. The scene is completely devoid of color with the exception of the pale stripe of azure sky and the foam green trace of water being refracted in the sunlight. The view is as inspiring as furious, heavenly as destructive, seductive as demanding. My mind reels as I turn my headed only to discover that the wall of water encompasses my entire view in all directions, as the narrow gap we entered from disappears behind the ubiquitous cloud of mist. It is as close to a vision of the gates of heaven I have ever imagined, glowing angelic white, powerfully defensive preventing all but the pure from entering. As the mist washes over me, I feel my sadness, my isolation, my pain subside and be cleansed from my thoughts. Calmness fills me as I deeply inhale the spirit laden mist from this sacred place, allowing me to once again feel joy in the presence of such incredible reverence. It has been a long time since I felt connected to the world, having drifted in a meaningless wasteland of false hope for which there was little comfort. The cold mist had slaps my soul to awaken from a pathetic destructive trance which had been suffocating my mind.

Returning to shore with the balance of the worshipers bathed in enthusiastic glee, I am at once drained but renewed by the short experience up the river. Images of sublime beauty, heavenly power and swirling clouds of mist dancing before my eyes, fills my mind. Discovering this idyllic place, we find ourselves filled with a yearning to linger here, where time has no start or end, but is constant and beauty overwhelms. I have been touched by the spirit of a greater power and it has rendered me tranquil and renewed to set forth with vigor. In the days since my experience at the falls, I have reflected on the sheer power and beauty frequently which in some unique way I am changed. My soul has seen an earthly rendition of the gates of heaven guarded by the spirit of the mist finding comfort in her majestic beauty and to this end I can see her majestic beauty is all I see.

Horseshoe Falls, Niagare, Canada Photo by Mr. Blue

"There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature - the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after the winter."

Rachel Carson

Drawing of Lots

“We ranged through, no food could we get,
Confined there for a long time, nothing for to eat,
Till we cast lots to see who should die,
Which made our ship’s crew for sorrow to cry.

The lots were drawn, one man was to die,
For his wife and poor children most bitterly did cry,
To kill him says the captain, or take away his breath,
But to starve with hunger is a deplorable death.

Then his messmates they killed him and cut off his head,
And all the ship’s crew from the body did feed,
And at eight different times lots amongst them were drawn,

For to keep them from starving that’s the way they went on.”

The future is uncertain as darkness obscures the path of salvation. A general has blindly marched his army into the killing fields where death is unavoidable. Now the decision of who shall survive if any waits. All the sorrow and regret of leadership will not change the slaughter that is to befall. The destructive economy is finally at the door and even the most promising future will not be spared on the sword of indifference. Almost twenty five years of contributions to society and the environment is now a victim of circumstances. I now must decide how to dismantle the most talented staff of individuals I have ever assembled. Tell me if I should cut off my right or left arm, is an eye more important than a leg. Any action carries the present risk of bleeding to death. How do you choose which of your children should die by the sword? I have shared my life with all of them. I have watched their families grow, I have watched them marry, I have comforted them when they have grieved loss, I have been their teacher and they have been mine. I have asked them to climb mountains and they did. How can I possibly choose? Whatever happens I shall forever be scarred by the senselessness of it all and the guilt that my judgments brought us to this point? Logic has lost reason in the carnage; all I can think of is the drawing of lots.

Since the time of the bible in the book of Proverbs: "The lot causeth contentions to cease, and parteth between the mighty." Drawing of lots is a lottery in which participants blindly choose objects (such as stones, straws, coins, or dice) in order to make a random decision. It is won by luck, akin to tossing a coin. The Hebrew bible makes a number of references to lots. Although the masses were forbidden by Jewish law to cast lots for divination – which was the prerogative of the priests, God's authorities on earth were allowed to use lottery devices to guide judgments. Thus the chief priest carried sacred stones inside his breastplate, through which he sensed divine intentions. The stones gave God's answer, determined when the 'Yes' or the 'No' stone was drawn out. King David consulted this oracular medium before going into battle: when the 'Yes' stone appeared, forecasting his victory over the Philistines, he set off on the warpath.

“Although the early fathers of the Christian church were vigorously opposed to divination by lots, sometimes excommunicating those who practiced it, this did not stop the Church itself using this method for decision-making. Some devout Christians continued to use lottery when faced with some of life's most difficult decisions. Whether or not divine intervention is invoked as the mechanism through which the casting of lots leads to decisions, the method has been recognized for millennia as a way of ensuring fairness in deciding difficult matters. In the past, the results of drawing lots were considered to reflect divine guidance. Today the results are more likely to be regarded as reflecting the play of chance. Lotteries to decide which citizens shall risk their lives in defense of their countries have been accepted as a fair, democratic solution to a problem of difficult choices. Lots for the 1917 military draft in the United States were drawn in public, in the presence of the President and other dignitaries, by a blindfolded Secretary of State.”

In the knowledge that human judgments are fallible, drawing of lots is also used to test the validity of opinions. There remains considerable ambivalence about casting lots as a risk-limiting and democratic device for dealing with uncertainty. Some clues to the reasons for this can be discerned in the condemnation of lottery by religious authorities as 'unlawful,' 'sinister,' 'invoking demons and evil spirits,' 'usurpation of God's prerogative'. In fact, the history of lottery for divination is the history of the surrender of decision-making to the control of authorities.

At this moment is time I can no longer see God’s hand guiding what is right. I can’t find divine intervention coming for salvation. I am left alone and cold with a deep bitterness that my dreams will die with the sword. I am left with only the possibility of drawing lots. I can see no good which will come from this; there is no personal growth to be achieved. There is no justice in rewarding those outside our company that have not made the same personal sacrifices for the good of society. I am watching this new economy consuming the pure of heart, the well intentioned, the idealist, the humanist, only to leave the greedy, the cheap, the heartless, and the cruel to guide our destiny. Because I chose no to comprise our ethics, values, inspirations; to not generate revenue at any cost, to invest freely in the causes that will make this world heal itself, I am left with the blood of the innocent on my hands.

"Yet ah! why should they know their fate,
Since sorrow never comes too late,
And happiness too swiftly flies?
Thought would destroy their paradise.
No more; where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to be wise."

Thomas Gray

"Fate rules the affairs of mankind with no recognizable order."

Seneca (5 BC - 65 AD)

Breath Is Enough

"I draw sweet air
Deeply and long,
As pure as prayer,
As sweet as song.
Where lilies glow
And roses wreath,
Heart-joy I know
Is just to breathe.

Aye, so I think
By shore or sea,
As deep I drink
Of purity.
This brave machine,
Bare to the buff,
I keep ice-clean,
Breath is enough.

From mountain stream
To covert cool
The world, I deem,
Is wonderful;
The great, the small,
The smooth, the rough,
I love it all,--
Breath is enough."

Robert William Service

Tragedy of the Commons

“Relationships of trust depend on our willingness to look not only to our own interests, but also the interests of others.”

Peter Farquharson

Observations of human behavior indicate that a fundamental universal law appears to regulate societal aspirations when it comes to most elemental values. It is difficult to discern if society is capable of reaching past these self imposed limitations in order to achieve a greater good. In simple terms, individuals for the most part will follow the path of least resistance and choose the lowest common denominator when making decisions. The term Lowest Common Denominator is used figuratively to refer to the "lowest"—least useful, least advanced, or similar member of a class which is common to things that relate to members of that class. The source of this human tendency is likely a combination of both genetics and environment, or what is referred to as “nature or nurture”. Donald Hebb is said to have once answered a journalist's question of "which, nature or nurture, contributes more to personality?" by asking in response, "which contributes more to the area of a rectangle, its length or its width?" Unfortunately the public’s predilection to the lowest common denominator regardless of the catalyst is an ominous indicator of the future decline of our society. After considerable thought, I have determined that much of my personal negativity concerning humanity and its inability to act collectively to solve serious social issues, has its origins in this basic human tendency.

As of recently, I have been fascinated with the concept of “The Tragedy of the Commons” which is an influential article written by Garrett Hardin and first published in the journal Science in 1968. “The article describes a dilemma in which multiple individuals acting independently in their own self-interest can ultimately destroy a shared limited resource even when it is clear that it is not in anyone's long term interest for this to happen. Central to Hardin's article is a metaphor of herders sharing a common parcel of land (the commons), on which they are all entitled to let their cows graze. In Hardin's view, it is in each herder's interest to put as many cows as possible onto the land, even if the commons are damaged as a result. The herder receives all of the benefits from the additional cows, while the damage to the commons is shared by the entire group. If all herders make this individually rational decision, however, the commons are destroyed and all herders suffer.

The metaphor illustrates the argument that free access and unrestricted demand for a finite resource ultimately dooms the resource through over-exploitation. This occurs because the benefits of exploitation accrue to individuals or groups, each of whom is motivated to maximize use of the resource to the point in which they become reliant on it, while the costs of the exploitation are borne by all those to whom the resource is available (which may be a wider class of individuals than those who are exploiting it). This, in turn, causes demand for the resource to increase, which causes the problem to snowball to the point that the resource is exhausted. The rate at which exhaustion of the resource is realized depends primarily on three factors: the number of users wanting to consume the commons, the consumptiveness of their uses, and the relative robustness of the commons.”

Inherent is this discussion is the individual’s inability of see a collective outcome which achieves a higher social benefit over the marginal self interests of the easy decision. The characteristic behaviors of self interest, narcissism, cynicism and vanity are thus spread throughout contemporary society as a method to promote consumerism. Such attitudes are perhaps not the most pleasant or productive phenomena but they may still open up interesting avenues for discussion, particularly with regards to the issue of self-interest and pursuit of happiness in individual relationships. Are these attitudes deviant reactions or safety valves that stop individuals from collectively confronting the real issues that affect their lives? Are they part of a generalized malaise that has infected western culture? Either way we have achieved a society with the greatest personal wealth in the history of mankind and yet happiness seems so elusive to majority of us.

We can explore the concept of self interest in more detail in order to understands it’s destructive impact on individual achievement or the lack there of. There is little need to investigate at any length the doctrine of individual happiness and self-interest as advanced by Hobbes, Locke, Hume, Hutcheson, and Bentham. They believed in general that the criteria of human action were pleasure and pain; that human wants were insatiable; that for the most part every­one sought his own happiness above everything else; that work was not pleasurable; and that no one would work except as a necessity. They questioned the ability of material wealth to bring happiness.

The pursuit of self-interest has been the basis of economic theory since Adam Smith in his “An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations” (1776) emphasized the force of vanity in motivating human action. However he believed that self interest made men strive for more than they need simply to secure the approval of their fellows. It assumes nature uses these characteristics of man to inspire him to labor. In the end man produces useful things for the benefit of others. Smith was consistent in sponsoring the principle that nature can and will direct the selfish actions of men toward the social good. An all-pervading force somehow correlates all the individual pursuits of self-interest into patterns that are socially beneficial.

I disagree with the basic premise that self interest results in beneficial social patterns. The principal of the “Guiding Hand” in economic theory suggests that open markets will self regulate providing a social boundary. This naïve concept of invisible market forces has been discredited in our most recent economic meltdown where self interest in the form of greed, narcissism, cynicism and vanity has exhibited no self regulation. In fact governmental deregulation fuelled the excess as limits to amount of financial leverage were relaxed. The whole idea that self-interest is a powerful motivating factor in individuals exerting additional effort is overly generous as a human condition. To the contrary individual self interest is likely to take the path of minimal investment or the lowest common denominator, unless you subscribe to Sigmund Freud theory that all self interest is motivated by sex. I’m inclined to believe that more than the economic premise.

Society is confined more by personal experiences establishing the foundation for self interest than anything else. In the discussion of “nature verse nurture” where we debate if genetics or life experiences have at greater influence on personal behaviors, I think it is clear that experience is the winner. Look at how often personal experiences reflect our current relationships. There is a strong tendency to settle for the easy answer rather than seeking a higher ideal. I was amazed in a recent survey where couples who were married over twenty years were asked if they could do it all over again would they marry their same spouse. Over 45% of the women indicated they would have not married the same person. Almost half of the respondents were sufficiently dissatisfied with their personal relationships that given another chance they opted to trade their husband in. What does that tell us about self interest as a motivating factor in higher achievement or personal gain? Seventy five percent of men interestingly enough would remarry their spouse; however I not would attribute this to increased satisfaction or self interested achievement but rather excessive compliancy and overt laziness. Men are generally much less apt to analysis interpersonal relationships as long as their basis needs of food, shelter, sports and sex are met, again a condition of laziness. Think about this statement on individual expectations when it comes our self-interest and personal relationships. We are willing to settle for less than to work for more. As a general rule we are willing to accept our parent’s societal position rather than achieving a higher status, unless it is given to us with little effort or discomfort. This tendency can best be seen in middle aged women where the fear of being alone will drive them to poorly conceived and mediocre decisions which would never have been acceptable earlier in life, highly reluctant of risking a better future against the laws of probability.

This not to say that women are the only ones that settle, I think we all do by and large, including myself. How often have we overlooked critical flaws in our relationships in order not to rock the boat, compliancy is easy. We all can list the characteristics we will ignore. The excessive signs of alcoholism, the propensity for gambling, the emotion abuse, the lack of financial responsibility, the underachievement in the workplace, the limited investment of emotions are all indications that society will pursue self-interests only to the degree that is requires little from us. We make these decisions by choosing the lesser of two evils instead of challenging ourselves that there is a better option not yet explored.

How many employees opt to play solitaire while on the clock instead of investing spare time into personal achievement? We choose not to improve our abilities but rather justify our actions because we are under compensated and under appreciated. Yet, the concept of self-interest continues to permeate most organizations. For example, the organized appeal to the ‘selfish gene’, advancing their self-interest and wanting to ‘be themselves’ at work.
As am employer I am fully cognizant of the enormous amount of time wasted by individuals while surfing the internet, paying personal bills and mindless chatter with boyfriends, spouses and relatives. It is difficult to appreciate that if all that wasted energy was harnessed into productive work or creative innovation, what that would mean to the profitability of the organization. Eventually that success would raise individual standards as the company became more capable of rewarding their employees. Given the most difficult economy in 80 years and a frantic call to arms for increase efficiency and vigilance, I have seen little change in behavior. The pervasive opinion of doing just enough to get by continues to dominate the workforce culture. I’m sure that my employees would just retort that I’m in fact pursuing my own self-interest in making them more productive so that I have to work less. If that was truly the case I’m capable of making three times the income and significantly less stress as an independent consultant instead of chief executive.

As illustrated above, there is little societal benefit in individuals acting in their own self-interest and possibility even less in terms of personal achievement in relationships. Is there any way to challenge the self-interest which pervades contemporary organizations and individual relationships? Are we destine to a radical return to ‘objectivism’ and the luxurious wallowing in self-interest? Even I have fallen into the deep self interest of cynicism to which I find is intensifying daily. I have no answers or solutions to correct my own failed self interests and am even less able to consider anyone else. I guess I should heed the advice of an old friend whose motto was “f…k it”.

“If you limit your choices only to what seems possible or reasonable, you disconnect yourself from what you truly want, and all that is left is a compromise.”

Robert Fritz

Eclipse of Reason

“He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

Friedrich Nietzsche

Exiting the office I pull open the door to the hall to find a solitary butterfly frantically seeking a familiar environment as its wings beat furiously against the stale air of corridor with no ventilation. Mesmerized I watch unable to decide what to do, captivated by the poetic movement I watch the dieing moment of something remarkable and beautiful. The hall is devoid of any recognizable refuse in which each of us can seek comfort. Graceful pirouettes are silhouetted against the battleship grey drab interior of the hallway as panic increases in the frightened winged insect. Concerned that I might injury this fragile butterfly I decide to ignore its plight after staring listlessly for an extended period as pity swallows me. As helpless as the trapped butterfly, I turn my back retreating into the false sanctuary of my office. The image continues to haunt me as I wonder if the butterfly was able to escape the confines of the barren cold hall, while knowing that its fate was sealed the moment I turned my back on it. As the door snaps shut with a deliberate finality my mind recites a phase buried in the subconscious since childhood “There But for the Grace of God go I”.

This simple witness of desperation in the reality of hopelessness was the perfect idiom to one of the most disheartening personal repudiations I have endured in over thirty years of business. The residual effect won’t be understood for many years to come, as I restructure my views of the world that surrounds me. The sense of disbelief is debilitating as I find it hard to accept, so let me try to explain. We have a client that I have worked on and off for in excess of thirty years, always attempting to bring value to our relationship. In considering the needs of the client we saw and opportunity to expand their mission by understanding of how sustainability could be implemented in their business model. Recognizing that they did not have the resources to invest in the future we voluntary donated our time and effort to create the vision and the consensus to adopt this very forward plan of environmental leadership. Our personal investment was in the thousands of dollars because it was the right thing to do. After presentations to the board, president and complete acceptance of the direction, we identified a funding program unknown to the owner. We then invested more of our time at modest cost to them to write a grant in which they received almost a million dollars to implement the program we devised.

Elated at our success we were informed that according to procurement policy they where required to request public bids for the implementation of the grant program. Somewhat disappointed we understood the process and responded to their request for proposals which required another substantial investment of time. Being short-listed with three other firms for the project we prepared for an interview investing more of time and energy. To our surprise we received a call from the procurement officer notifying us that the selection committee was unable to make a decision and requested that we provide our best and lowest offer by 9:00 the following morning. Ignoring the fact that the process they requested is know in the industry as bid shopping which is illegal in many states, we worked late into the night trying to option out as much of the services we were providing as possible without negatively impacting the quality of the product we were attempting to deliver. Throwing caution to the wind we pared our original proposal to the bare minimum and reduced our fee basis by thirty percent.

Four days later we received a call that we were not selected for the project because we were still a couple of thousand dollars higher than the other firm on a one million dollar project. So after spending thousands and thousands of dollars on their behalf to create a project, have it approved, find the funding source, and acquire the grant funding, we were not selected because of a cost spread of a couple of thousand dollars. This single act of betrayal by a client is by far the most brutal disregard to value I have ever experienced in over thirty years of professional service and it will forever change my naive approach based on the inherent morality of public institutions being able to understand the value proposition. The most disheartening concept is that this action is not unique, but is a common business practice of our new economy, a false belief that a few dollars stripped from a thoughtful planning process will benefit the greater good. In reality short sighted planning ends up costing the institution hundreds of thousands if not millions of dollars in the long run, but it is impossibility for bureaucrats to conceive the relative value of money over time. As a society we are removing the basis underpinning of our economy, when we will forego value for economic decisions purely based on cost. Why not concede that the greatest economic force in the world is not longer willing to invest in its future. Is there any question why China and India are manufacturing empires as we continue to fool ourselves into believing that our nation in not past its pinnacle of greatness and is on the verge of eminent collapse.

My cynical opinion of society’s inability to act toward a collective good has been bolstered today and is becoming a repeating theme of my alienation from society. I was trying to determine a title to this blog post and stumbled on the title “Eclipse of Reason”. Just to kill some time I queried the title on the internet and was riveted by what came up on the screen and how relevant is was to my understanding of what is happening in this new economy or with society in general, although I had a difficult time placing my sentiments into words.

In 1946, Max Horkheimer wrote a book called “Eclipse of Reason” which was influenced by Nazi power in Germany. He was outlining how the Nazis were able to make their agenda appear "reasonable", but was also issuing a warning against this happening again. Horkheimer believed that the ills of modern society are caused by the misuse and misunderstanding of reason. If people use true reason to critique their societies, they will be able to identify and solve their problems.

“Eclipse of Reason deals with the concept of "reason" within the history of Western philosophy. Horkheimer defines true reason as rationality. He details the difference between objective and subjective reason and states that we have moved from objective to subjective. Objective reason deals with universal truths that dictate that an action is either right or wrong. Subjective reason takes into account the situation and social norms. Actions that produce the best situation for the individual are "reasonable" according to subjective reason. The movement from one type of reason to the other occurred when thought could no longer accommodate these objective truths or when it judged them to be delusions. Under subjective reason, concepts lose their meaning. All concepts must be strictly functional to be reasonable. Because subjective reason rules, the ideals of a society, for example democratic ideals, become dependent on the "interests" of the people instead of being dependent on objective truths.”

In order to understand Horkheimer’s premise we need to define both Objective and Subjective reasoning. “Objective Reasoning - Of or pertaining to an object; contained in, or having the nature or position of, an object; outward; external; extrinsic; -- an epithet applied to whatever is exterior to the mind, or which is simply an object of thought or feeling, and opposed to subjective. Objective means that which belongs to, or proceeds from, the object known, and not from the subject knowing, and thus denotes what is real, in opposition to that which is ideal -- what exists in nature, in contrast to what exists merely in the thought of the individual.” As explained by Sir. W. Hamilton. In other words Objective Reasoning is Objective is something that deals with or is learned because of another object, not your own experience.

On the other hand, “Subjective Reasoning – is defined as especially, pertaining to, or derived from, one's own consciousness, in distinction from external observation; relating to the mind, or intellectual world, in distinction from the outward or material excessively occupied with, or brooding over, one's own internal states.” Or in simple terms Subjective Reasoning is something that deals with or is learned by your own experience because you are the subject. Society has clearly shifted from objective to subjective reasoning and this is an ominous turn when subjective reason is dependent on the "interests" of the people instead of being dependent on objective truths. In terms of my experience the committee selected the other firm on the subjective belief that they would save some money as opposed to the objective truth that such a decision is going to cost much more in the long term. This decision was made with little regard to the fact that the other firm had no investment in the project which equates to less commitment to success, has little understanding of the project program which requires the owner to pay the other firm to get up to speed on the background information and has rewarded the concept of less critical thought toward solving the technical issues which always increases operational costs.

In this new economy the “interests” of the people are distilled to an over simplistic policy of least cost as professed by the financial accountants which run everything into long term failure though quarterly accounting which is devoid of projecting long term value. Think of the stupidity of this philosophy in practical application. Why change the oil in your car, when you can save $19.99 this week. Why take your high blood pressure medication, when you can save $2.50 today. Somehow we have decided that screwing everyone out of a few dollars will benefit us, when in reality we are undermining the value of loyalty in business relationships. Our next contact with this owner will be devoid of added value and will focus on the only principal they understand which is screwing them out of money at every possible opportunity. It is a truly sad testament to how far our once powerful business model has fallen. More concerning is how hard a landing society is going to receive unless we change our direction. Just try to compete with $2.00 a day labor from Indonesia especially if we discount quality. We can cry and bitch all we want about the trade deficit but don’t ask the individual to change their spending habits and buy American made goods what cost more.

Society has entered a new economy in which it values only the bottom line at the complete disregard for cost-benefit or added value. Honestly this mentality will destroy this nation and forever change the balance of commerce overseas. It is sad how quickly the world has declined and how acceptable this practice of lowest expectations has become. This post may be construed as sour grapes or a bruised ego, which has incited this negative rant, but look around and see the ideals that once were held so dearly now lie bleeding in the street.

I found an affinity with that small butterfly desperately confined by a reality larger than itself, in its attempts to seek a solution in an impenetrable situation. Unwilling to recognize the brutality of a sparse future in which nothing you can do will alter the outcome. Today both the butterfly and I toil in obscurity against a system than does not care and will not morn our passing. For an entire life I have held the fervent belief that if enough people screamed loud enough society would hear. It has become apparent that humanity is deaf, dumb and blind, unable to lift itself above the rising tide of benign apathy which will soon drown us all. As the old customer service joke goes “Today is not your day, and tomorrow doesn’t look good either.”

"To predict the behavior of ordinary people in advance, you only have to assume that they will always try to escape a disagreeable situation with the smallest possible expenditure of intelligence."

Friedrich Nietzsche

Suspended in Time

"To be alone is to be different, to be different is to be alone."

Suzanne Gordon

Frozen Love

You may not be as strong as me
And I may not care to teach you
It may be hard to keep up with me
But I'll always be able to reach you

And if you go forward, I'll meet you there
And if you climb up through the cold freezing air
Look down below you; search out above
And cry out to life for a frozen love

Life gave me you; the change was made
And there's no beginning over
You are not happy, but what is love?
Fate gave you me for a lover...

And if you go forward, I'll meet you there
And if you climb up through the cold freezing air
Look down below you; search out above
And cry out to life for a frozen love

Stevie Nicks, Linsey Buckingham 1973

That Which Remains

“The fragrance always remains in the hand that gives the rose.”

Heda Bejar

The brilliant white light which illuminated everything is gone. Drifting into consciousness my eyes are a fixed on a handful of sparkling specks of brightness in the still night sky. Through the black silhouette of a sheltering oak tree I trace the pattern of dots as the big dipper emerges from my foggy mind like a series of pinholes punched into cool flat gray cardboard. The silence is consuming as there is no breeze to animate this solemn moment of passage. Against the dark tattered foliage is an intermittent yellow beacon of the first firefly of the summer. As it lazily drifts in and out of the arching boughs I slowly follow its assent from tree to tree in search of another firefly to complete the union. Where are the clouds of fireflies of my childhood which filled the meadows in a dancing choreography of abundance? Waves of shimmering sparks lost in the sultry heat of a summer dusk. No longer the ambassadors of nigh center stage beckoning us to take pause in the waning day, but now hiding in the dark shadows to few in number to reveal themselves in the ever expanding recesses.

I slowly realize that the pain is gone leaving a comforting sensation of warmth as I lie in a sanguine puddle of blood which trickles down my chest searching for earth from a small hole in my heart as I lie naked under the stars. The thick salty taste of blood in my mouth is familiar as it congeals on once hopeful lips. The chill of the evening floats over my skin but I do not shutter as numbness rebukes any sensation. For the moment all feelings and desires have been replaced with the ambivalence of simultaneous conflicted feelings toward life. I can not determine if I am grateful of survival or regretful of not perishing in the light. Appreciative the brutalizing chaos of toxic thunderstorms of rogue emotions have abated leaving an exhausted soul without the will to measure gain or loss. Lying motionless with no pain there is no need to discover the extent of disfiguring mental and physical wounds that invariability exist. Future disabilities have no relevance in this restful state of disconnection and isolation; there will be adequate time to hide the scars under a pall of normalcy and blinding routine. In the aftermath there is no one willing to help shoulder the suffering of loss so it will be hidden deep in a black hole where the demons play, where a past world of light and love are trapped by the inescapable gravity of darkness. Naked before the ebony curtain of closure, emotions have nowhere to cling, like a smooth granite surface the seeds of fragrant summer flowers can not germinate falling helpless to the ground. Seeds destine never to germinate in the fertile ground of aspiration. Seeds of dreams that once held the promise of a future of spiritual discovery while quenching flames of self denial, seeds of limitless possibilities will never support life.

Hanging on the pregnant dewy air is the charred scent of Pinyon long after the burning embers have given their warmth to the hungry land leaving only undetectable residual ash from once was a vibrant embodiment of life. Returning to dust its story of existence forgotten, its struggle for life unrewarded, the Pinyon will leave no mark other than meager trace elements it deposits on a cold mantle of soil which has no memory. Like the Pinyon my struggles, triumphs, loves, losses and memories will accompany me to the grave leaving the rest of the world knowing no different. In my foggy ravished mind the clarity of it all is so dreadfully apparent, nature does not care. Nature can not care favoring one action over another; it operates blindly to the equality all and the pretence of none. We all exist as a collection of our experiences, hopes and dreams wishing to find meaning in the random violence of indifference, but in the end even those fragile mental processions will be taken from us as the last struggling breath escapes our cold lips. The lesson we must learn is that tomorrow is not ours and can never be, so we must throw caution to the wind and capture every kiss, every embracing caress, and every opportunity to love regardless of the consequences of unknown probabilities. Endeavor to expose our soul to excesses of bliss and to debilitating suffering of pain, only then will fate assure us that maybe one of those fragile memories will fall to the ground to be cherished up a loved one before death erases them from the chronically apathetic record of existence.

Clutched in a drawn fist is a small charred image of yesterday which I can recognize without looking at. Its edges are worn and familiar where they are not burned. It is the only procession that remains from before the light. My fingers tremble as they caress the smiling figure of beauty incarnate as if the power in my touch could invigorate life into restoring an era of captivation. The wistful face in the photo did not make it to the other side with me, swept away by the storm unable to share in that which remains. An ocean of tears is beginning to ebb as I search my mind for chards of broken memories that I may have overlooked in the conflagration. Like fine sand these visions of the past will slowly seep from between my fingers as the erosion of time washes away what remains until it is uncertain if it ever existed at all. Nothing will prevent the once vibrant colors to fade until the indistinct stains evoke no meaning, seldom visited in the cluttered junkyard of abandon paths. The weight on my chest is heavy but is no longer crushing as I exhale deeply allowing my thoughts to wander aimlessly amidst scrapbook of the all too few fleeting encounters with happiness. Time permits perspective to evolve, but time can not be allowed to distance the feelings. Questions which were so abundant are unimportant as I attempt to heal in confines of desolation.

Fearful to move knowing that pain is still hidden below the placid surface of calm, there is little need to disturb this comforting void of solicitude. At the crossroads what lies before, the path remains highly uncertain as a forceful disregard for tomorrow is omnipresent. This mortal struggle to capture that which is impossible to capture, has exacted a horrific toll on the stamina required to move forward especially when a soft blanket of exhaustion is numbing the pain like a burning spoon of heroin raging through my veins. Lying so still that my own breathing keeps rhythm with a muted fragile heartbeat, I understand will need to stand erect and decide which path to choose. Aware that each new movement may reveal the prospect of searing pain hiding slightly below the façade of normalcy, it will be a long time of repeated motion before the agony will seek a new sanctuary to take root. Physical and emotional trauma can alter the foundation of perspective as new patterns reroute themselves around damaged pathways. Even in this relative state of inertia, the new patterns are emerging, some darkly foreboding while others are filled with possibility of restoration. Unfortunately those pathways continue to remain in the future and the future does not care. The future is as unattainable as the as restoration of the past, so I am investing little energy in the consequences of what is to be and instead be present in the moment with only that which remains.

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.”

Nelson Mandela (1918 - )

Acquisition of Influence

“He who wishes to exert a useful influence must be careful to insult nothing. Let him not be troubled by what seems absurd, but concentrate his energies to the creation of what is good. He must not demolish, but build. He must raise temples where mankind may come and partake of the purest pleasure.”

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749 - 1832)

The stage is arranged as if it was a presidential debate, flowing silk curtains drop from the ceiling in billowy cascades as the green stage lights paint a theatrical illusion to the floating platform. Mounds of green tropical plants decorate the foreground as a single glass lectern rises from the center like alter in an ancient place of worship. Flanking the stage is two drive-in size projections screens which explode the event as if staring into a microscope. Massive association logos glowing on the screens suggest power and influence as the soft light washes over 800 eager spectators arranged neatly at circular linen covered tables festoon with glassware and plates. A din of frivolity echo in the expansive ballroom as the sounds of dinnerware mix with idle conversation, while every table is filling as waiters dressed in black tuxedos scurry about in a silent choreography of restrained movement. Many different languages can be heard in gentle whispers as the spectators have traveled from around the world to partake in this exchange of knowledge and celebration of achievement.

At a slightly larger table with a small reserved sign, I sit silently as individuals drift by smiling and offering kind gratitude of the opulence of the banquet. A black on black pin striped suit I acquired on a trip to Chicago has recently been tailored so that it fits perfectly over a crisp white cotton shirt and a stunning yellow and black patterned tie which adorns my emotionless expression. The executive director next to me leans over and whispers in my ear, “you should try to eat something, it always helps me.” Smiling I push a few chards of romaine lettuce around the plate in a concealed attempt to satisfy his concerns. I have lost an interest in cuisine lately as I nod at the dean of a prestigious Canadian university sitting across from me. Someone taps me on the shoulder and introduces a stunning slender young lady dressed in a simple ebony evening gown with long black glistening hair that gently arcs toward her cleavage as she leans over to explain the basis of her research into the physiological response of humans when viewing natural environments. Her eyes deeply search my face as if holds a secret she is seeking while her voice slightly stammers from nervousness as a river of appreciation flows for the association which has brought her from Chile to accept an award. My mind is wandering as I am distracted by the detachment I feel for the activity swirling around me, unable to focus on what she is saying and I stare into her soft appreciative face which calms my own butterflies. Standing to thank her she cradles my hand with both of her warm hands in a familiar caring touch which lingers longer than I would have expected. With a disarming beautiful smile she turns and disappears into the crowd. I search my mind for her name but have already forgotten it as I realize it is possible I might never meet this person again.

My shallow daydream is interrupted by a slight nervous tremor in my hand as I watch someone glide up the stairs of the podium to address the crowd. I’ve become tolerant of the physical toll this level of travel and stress imposed on the body. The sound of glass twinkling lessens as a spotlight appears over the lectern. A distinguished colleague with a Bostonian accent addresses the crowd with a style that demonstrates a long history of standing before large crowds. My mind wanders not really listening to the speaker as I search the crowd for a face, a particular face which could personally share in the upcoming moment of adulation, but I know I will not find that face staring back at me. My spirits sadden as I ask myself why do I push so hard, what is the personal purpose for spending an entire life on the road at the expense of just about everything. I begin to fall into a hole of despair having spent now 30 years of my life chasing this elusive concept without any feelings of advancement or significant achievement. A few words from the speaker catch my interest because he is now working outside the script, into the realm of improvisation. I am always fascinated with the ability to work on the high wire without a net, the realm of high danger, my realm of speaking off the cuff. “Our master of ceremonies is a five time award winner and has won so many awards at this banquet that we felt we could prevent that occurring again if we made him a judge and kept him onstage…..I think we succeeded.”

A smile breaks my stoic facade as I find the comment quite amusing. A creatively crafted bit of restrained Bostonian humor which fits the moment perfectly. It is a skill acquired over long periods of time to be able to work a large crowd so that they find you both engaging and personable. Before long I once again begin scanning the crowd for a familiar face only to discover the stunning lady with black hair is met a few minutes ago is staring at me from a few tables back. As I attempt to return a smile she disappears in an explosion of white light as a spotlight singles me out from the audience. The words of the speaker climb to a credenda as he concludes with “Please welcome a dear friend, a valued colleague, and our next chairman….Mr. Blue”

As if I was turning on a switch, my mind is swept clear of any thoughts, only feeling I possess is a slight nervousness as I stroll through the tables toward the stage watching myself on the two huge flanking screens. The sight of yourself twenty feet tall in stereo could be intimidating to most, but I am fascinated with the muted color patterns as I approach the stage. Adding a slight bounce of energy in my gait, I jog up the steps to the lectern as the crowd continues its applause. Embarrassed by the reception I hold my hands up to silence the rolling thunder of clapping. All of a sudden there is a silent anticipation of the moment as I wait for what seems like a short eternity allowing it to build. At that precise moment I am completely alone and naked before a crowd of my peers, unable to hide in the shadows, unable to conceal the insecurities and flaws that I am composed of.

The origin of my nervousness is that most all of this ceremony is completely scripted in a binder that sits atop the podium. It contains over 60 pages of descriptions, names, companies, categories and explanations. My entire professional speaking career I have formed a general opinion of how I was going to deliver a speech and just ran with it, allowing a feel of the crowd and my rising emotions steer the content of the dialogue. Today is a steep departure from my typical routine; I will be expected to execute this event with precision, a precision that includes (insert joke here). This is a degree of structure I am unfamiliar with and it serves to destabilize my sense of confidence. After welcoming the crowd I joke “Anyone that knows me understands that I am an outline the lines type of person, and they have me heavily scripted today.” Holding up the binder to show the crowd I conclude with “we’ll just have to see how well this is going to go” as a polite laugh rolls across the hall.

The list of acknowledgements run on for ever as I have each individual stand when their name is called, the organizing committee, the host local committee, the board of trustees, the executive committee, the conference committee, the association staff, distinguished delegates from around the world and finally the awards committee judges. It is common practice in providing a keynote address to open with a joke, especially for a master of ceremony, so I explain the background of how I have been the force in pushing a number of controversial policies and agenda directions in the organization which has resulted in a split in some of the membership. It is my opinion that a professional organization is not breaking new ground if there is not a vigorous debate that brings members for from the sidelines; this is the edge where new ways replace old ways as the paradigm shifts. I continue, “Just for this conference I was informed that I get a special new name tag which indicates my new status in this organization.” Reaching from under the lectern I pull out a hunting target with a lanyard which I slowly place over my head allowing it to hang over my chest. The crowd roars in laughter as I model my new nametag. Squeezing as much out of the prop I continue “and for some unknown reason the staff tells me its works the best if I allow it to hang from my back, something about better visibility.” Turn the hunting target around so that it hangs off my back I turn facing away from the crowd exposing the target to all as cat calls fill the hall. The gag is a complete success as I use a divisive issue to create as sense of community.

As each award recipient steps onto the stage they are a mixed bag of raw emotion, running from fear, to elation, to confusion, to overwhelmed, but they all have a single trait that unifies the experience which an extreme humility that they are on stage with me. You can see the admiration in the eyes and feel it in the handshake. How have I acquired such a degree of influence? Will I fulfill the expectations which clear ride on my leadership? Can I build a legacy of vision that will translate into action and become an agent for change? Have I ascended too far above my rudimentary skills of public persuasion to be effective? I am filled with doubt and insecurity, not out of fear of failure, for I have failed to many times to count, but fearful of letting an entire industry down that has invested their faith in my ability. In order to manage their expectations I again joke with the crowd “I just wanted to thank our past chairman for raising the bar so high in this organization that it is impossible for me to clear it.”

By some odd stoke of fate I will become chairman of two separate North American organizations at the same time one with a two year term and the other a five year term. Two entire industries one under attack and seeking to reinvent themselves in order to evade becoming totally irrelevant and the other that is gaining relevance and credibility while growing 40% in the worst market in 80 years, have staked their future on my leadership. Most disturbing is that it comes at a time when emotionally I have achieved my greatest level of ambiance and distain for the ability of society to correct the damage occurring in the world. Society has reached the tipping point of environmental degradation that I’m not sure we can impact the impending cataclysm. As the Neil Young song goes “And there ain't nothin' like a friend who can tell you you're just pissin' in the wind.” Is it my role to tell the world that they are just pissing in the wind? I struggle deeply with the fact that my inspiration and motivation for continuing to invest in the world has been abruptly eliminated. I have built my world on a foundation of childish dreams and fallacies that could never be achieved and like the sand castle on the beach the rising tide of reality has swept it away leaving only indifference and detachment. The desire to check out of society and spend the remainder of my life in a self absorbed escape to some distant isolated beach where I can indulge in self gratification of contributing nothing but fulfilling a hedonistic exploration of myself, is real. Why not buy a boat and consume as large a carbon footprint as possible, is not this the reward of capitalism, is this not my personal reward in having won the game of financial security. Would anyone really care if I disappeared from their life, or is my value really defined by their continued financial security? I am at a terribly confused crossroad in which deciding on what path to take is quite meaningless.

What an ironic circumstance that at the point where I have finally acquired significant influence to effectuate change that is real, my motivation and will is almost not existent. I am highly disillusioned by the fundamentals of human behavior. Society as a general rule never seeks to achieve what is possible but rather settles for mediocrity and the most convenient solution. This extends to all phase of societal behavior, we settle in our relationships, we settle in working for some else instead of starting our own business, we settle for the soma of network television instead of volunteering for change, we settle for like status friends so we can spend the empty hours discussing other people’s lives. It was said that mediocre minds talk about people, enlightened minds talk about new events, and brilliant minds talk about ideas. What does that tell us about a society which is addicted to reality television and electronic social networking? I am most recently a fatalist that wishes to find comfort my childish dreams, but understands that seeking the possible is doomed for failure when the rest of the equation desires to settle for a false sense of security induced by our own disregard for the future. When individuals realize their mistake, this window of opportunity will have closed leaving us a future which much less fulfilling than we had dreamed. Am I to gain a sense of glee in reciting to everyone, see I told you so, I find that prospect very sad.

I have now been on stage for almost 90 minutes, my mistakes and flubs are probably more apparent in my mind than in the audiences. A couple of mispronunciations, a name or two skipped, a few extended pauses as I try to find my place in the text, a few forgetful moments to wait for the photographer to snap a picture of me with the award winner. Not bad for my first scripted banquet. The past chairman sneaks up to the podium to hand me a glass of water as my voice begin to get raspy. I have become comfortable in the spotlight and the experience has drained me of most of my emotional energy. I conclude with a small joke as the executive director get up to promote the next conference in Canada. In his polished familiar way he pumps the crowd into a second round of applause as I bow and exit the stage. I once again flip the switch in my mind and I turn off the amplified enthusiasm and passion as my minds drifts back to emotionless detachment. Scanning the crowd I again look for a face than will never appear as a touch of emptiness washes over me but the question remains, what will be accomplished with this new acquisition of influence?

“Do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers. Pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you shall be the miracle.”

Phillips Brooks (1835 - 1893)

Where Dreams Go To Die

On loess bluffs high above the plain
towers a statuesque oak with no memory
as wind whispers patterns on placid water
songbirds sing of hope in azure skies

Dreams tethered with love drift on sultry breezes
chasing willowy clouds to summer’s soft shoulder
caressed by sheltering limbs they become prisoners
no longer seeking fulfillment of childish wishes

Desperately seeking inspiration in fleeting daylight
my love’s caring hands grow cold to the touch
as painful eyes betray longing in a broken heart
yet tears fall to be devoured by parched earth

Immersed in endless beauty of nature’s undeterred wealth
with little reason to struggle against destiny’s will
for sadness of loss can never scream loud enough
to free dreams from its solemn resting place

Cruel is unintended consequences of circumstance
where forces of time are blind to unrealized ecstasy
obscuring the grace of endless compassion
with indifference to the promise of tomorrow

Unbounded love shall not secure freedom
for stormy night fade silently from view
as rain kiss crimson lips of passion
knowing dawn will steal heaven’s joy

Beauty abounds for final embrace burns
as dreams dies fearing the approaching sunset
on loess bluffs high above the plain
mourned by a statuesque oak with no memory

Mr. Blue

Cape of Spring

In lavender field of dreams lost
Wild winds beckon my love
Golden mane dances on sunlight
Boundless hunger in radiant eyes

In saffron meadow of time abandon
Silken perfume caresses my love
Oaks bow across newborn green
Tireless joy on silent lips

In burgundy claret of hope revealed
Fragrant bounty nourishes my love
Alluring glances over vanilla linen
Weightless melody of words unspoken

In sanguine velvet of desire found
Creamy skin envelops my love
Opal smile whispers breathless
Ceaseless beauty of supple curves

In ebony darkness of solitude sought
Ardent limbs cradles my love
Trembling hearts find wings
Endless ecstasy in moment shared

Mr. Blue

Black is the Color of the Day

"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling into at night."

Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 - 1950)

Black is the color of objects that do not emit or reflect light in any part of the visible spectrum; they absorb all such frequencies of light. Black means darkness, doubt, ignorance, uncertainty, or the negation of color. Black is a mysterious color associated with power, elegance, formality, death, evil, and mystery. Black is the color of grief.

In Cherokee culture each of the four cardinal directions was associated with a color and inherent meaning. Blue represented north which meant cold, defeat and trouble. White was south representing warmth, peace and happiness. Red was east, the color of the Sacred Fire, blood, and success. West was black the color meaning problems and death. West symbolizes the setting sun, the end of light, the satiation of warmth, the process of dying.

For someone struggling with a deepening spiral of depression which continues to find no bottom, no lessening in intensity, I have found the express elevator to hell. It’s called a solitary three days in a cheap airport hotel room in Minneapolis during an overcast dark rainy cold weekend after a long painful winter. To effectively contrast my misery the hotel is part water park filled with young families of beautiful innocent, curious children and doting pretty mothers with their bubble toes, red painted toenails and partially revealed tattoos adorning alluring glimpses of flesh as they stretch and bend. For them it is all about a world of constant hope and dreams about the future, a connection to tomorrow which I have never experienced. My sole focus on career has left me with no children and what has been growing into a gapping hollow void which can’t be diverted or distracted by the needs of a child. This great contrast of direction and purpose between me and the sea of young families I’m immersed in further accelerates my decent into lifeless chaos. I am invisible, a haunted spirit wandering the corridors unseen, unimportant. Occasionally I will catch the exquisite angelic face of a small child staring at me in the elevator, asking with their soulful eyes why are you sad, as I avert my gaze to prevent a tear from escaping to my cheek.

Until recently I would play a little game each day to discover the color of the day. It was a simple trivial exercise most people would find childish, but which gave me an immense sense of pleasure and connection to the day, a reason to stay fully engaged in the moment, not to drift to yesterday or tomorrow. It was a personal intimacy that had great individual meaning, a little precious secret about the world which no one else was allowed to know. A secret garden tended only for me where I could sit in my mind and feel the sun and smell the perfumed flowers. For what seems like an eternity the only color of the day has been black or the absence of color, just another missing handhold on my decent into hell.

In the sullen blandness of the below standard room I stare out on a brutal indifference to humanity, a sterile concrete parking garage and a scattered collection of dispirited nondescript low utility structures devoid of architectural adornment. Even a grey rain can’t wash the visual violence from the scene as it swirls with a toxic oily film from the hemorrhaged bleeding vehicles that litter my view. Coldness creeps from the window to numb my skin. Time has stopped as red digital clock is frozen. In the deafening silence of the night each small creak and groan of the structure slams my head like a hammer tormenting my attempts to sort through this emotional haze. To unfit to sleep, but yet to lethargic to move, I wait feeling my heartbeat in a listless stupor. The night is caught on a hook not allowing it to move closer to dawn.

Depression is a new experience for me for which its symptoms I find curious. I would have expected the dull confused mental debate and listless apathy, but the overwhelming sense of abandonment and betrayal for no apparent reason is debilitating. My chest feels like it is bound by leather straps so tightly than my breath is shallow, almost suffocating me in a constant reminder of the pressing weight on my soul. Subconsciously I reach to my heart trying to claw away the invisible restraints which confine me. I am surprised by the unbending nature of the torment which barely ceases for brief moments before resuming with increasing intensity. Accompanying the complete loss of appetite is a dramatic shedding of weight. Food has always been an important medicine to cure the ailment of continuous travel and I’m amazed at how complete my repulsion of food is right now, another missing handhold of security.

I have recently developed a slight tremor in my left hand an apparent causality of the degeneration of my nervous system due to the tidal wave of anxiety and stress overwhelming brain function. It is probably a survival response where the extremities are sacrificed to preserve core function, the stockpiling of precious reserves in preparation for a prolonged conflict. After hours of careful observation I have come to the conclusion that there is no collation between the rhythm of the tremor and the pounding of the low grade migraines that are now my constant companion. It is funny how the mind occupies itself during the sleepless hours of the long night.

My mind is trapped in a loop replaying happier times in attempt to discover the path back to that moment in time lost. Images of pain and pleasure flash in my cortex in a surreal mosaic of my life experiences transformed into an evil madness. I’m irritable and quick to anger but cautious to keep mired in despair and sorrow, not allowing anger to gain a foothold. Anger can build into a raging conflagration of resentment and retribution which will burn and consume everything in sight leaving only a bitter residual ash that was once was a beautiful existence. I try hard to contain my despair to only sorrow, not daring to expose the burning flames of anger to be fanned by the winds of chaos and resentment.

I am being summoned to perform another act of group exorcism, restoring their faith in the ability of humanity to deviate from its path of natural destruction. This time it’s a crowd of two hundred gathered awaiting me in the undisputed shrine of consumerism and the citadel of corporate economy, the Mall of America. I walk past the amusement park and the looming murals of sexy vibrant models seducing us with perfect round partially exposed breasts and pouty full red lips. Past the billboards of pubescent bare chest males sporting washboard stomachs, past the overtly sexual manikins with erect plastic nipples, toward the great hall in center of this false church of idol worship. The images festooning every surface are alien creatures from another planet, because none of the mass of humanity milling through the corridors resembles these gods of fashion. I sit quietly gathering my demons into a small cage and summon all the clarity and strength I can, as the speaker reads a long list on my accomplishments. As I arise to take the podium and clip on the microphone, my baggage remains in a heap off stage. I take a deep breath and clear my mind as my voice fills the hall. My words flow like silk decorating the hall in a tantalizing vision of the future, my voice paints a picture of powerful self determination and empowerment as I remain centered and focused as the faces of the crowd convey understanding and solidarity in the message. For ninety minutes I captivate the on lookers, converting their ignorance and forging it into action. The rock star lives. As quickly as it began, it is over as the crowd rises to their feet and provides a sustained ovation of appreciation. I slowly turn and bow leaving the spotlight to return to my cage of demons that have been confined much too long and resume my downward path into darkness.

Black is the color of objects that do not emit or reflect light in any part of the visible spectrum. Black means darkness, doubt, ignorance, uncertainty, and the negation of color. As it was yesterday, as it is today and as it will probably be tomorrow, black is the color of the day.

Mirrors on the ceiling, the pink champagne on ice
And she said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device'
And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast

Last thing I remember, I was running for the door
I had to find the passage back to the place I was before
'Relax' said the night man, we are programmed to receive.
You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave."

Hotel California by The Eagles

"The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis."

Dante Alighieri (1265 - 1321)

What If?

“Depression is the inability to construct a future.”

Rollo May

Caught unprepared, the slap stung my cheek probably because it was so unexpected. I guess it was an attempt to awake me from this darkness which haunts me. Just pick yourself up, walk it off, its time to cowboy up. Your despair and loss is not unique, you are barely average at best, this shit happens to people everyday. If you want to compare scars look at this. My demons are stronger and bigger than yours. Get use to fact that you are powerless, inept, and drowning in self pity, that’s just the way it’s going to be, so swallow and take your medicine. The words bite me, striping me naked. I’ve always dreaded the precursor “You probably don’t want to hear this, but” because it’s always been an invitation to level a shotgun at my view of reality. It has now become apparent to those around me that I have reached a wall which I can’t surmount. Call it burn out, depression, midlife crisis, or whatever I can no longer conceal it behind a stoic resolve, I can no longer turn it into anger and use it to clear the next hurtle. For the first time in my life I cannot find the pleasure in spring for I am frozen in a winter of blue unable to move forward.

The essence of my self destruction sends me spiraling down a black hole of apathy, a marriage between nightmares and headaches. Some days it's just not worth chewing through the restraints as I bleed like the stream, pouring sorrow into the ocean. It is like I am standing in a room without any doors. The room is plain white and its only distinguishing feature is its corners. Believing that every corner contains the answers I seek, I claw at them feverously. However, the answers I seek can not be answered by the questions I ask and the corners only torment me. Silently I hope to find the answer, but my hope is fading as I stand in this white room with no doors, no longer wanting a way out. I am assaulted by the clichés just breathe, just put one foot in front of the other, take one step at a time, tomorrow will be better, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it’s the darkest before the dawn, things will get better, but ringing in my ears the clichés are of an ancient dialect that I don’t understand. Do not try to take my sorrow from me; it is the only thing that comforts me right now.

What if your fears and dreams existed in the same place?
What if to get to heaven you had to brave hell?
What if everything you ever wanted cost you everything you ever achieved?
Would you still?

Breathe No More

When we two parted

In silence and tears,

Half broken-hearted

To sever for years,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold,

Colder thy kiss;

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning

Sunk chill on my brow—

It felt like the warning

Of what I feel now.

Why wert thou so dear?

They know not I knew thee,

Who knew thee too well:—

Long, long shall I rue thee,

Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met

—In silence I grieve

That thy heart could forget,

Thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee

After long years,

How should I greet thee?

—With silence and tears.

Lord Byron

Houston...We Have a Problem!

“There is no greater sorrow
Than to be mindful of the happy time
In misery.”

Dante Alighieri (1265 – 1321)
The Divine Comedy

There is a point in time in all exploration missions where uncertainty commands your undivided attention and the success of the mission hangs in the balance. Decisions can no longer be obtained from the operations manual. This is called uncharted territory, a theater of the unexpected. In rocket science they call the event a “flame out” when one stage of a booster rocket is expended and no longer provide a function to the completion of the mission. It becomes a liability exerting drag on the vessel, distorting the trajectory, creating an obstacle to other equipment. Though a planned sequence the spent rocket stage is jettisoned and the next phase of the mission begins. After flame out danger of failure is high, for the thousands of pounds of useless junk must be detached to ensure that the vessel can continue in its manifest journey.

Approaching the milestone of thirty years of trajectory in my career, I have achieved a total flame out. As it is with all engineered systems catastrophic collapse never occurs in a failure of a single system but is the occurrence of multiple failures in related subsystems that become a perfect storm culminating in a catastrophic failure. In my case the small system failures are fairly apparent. It is an industry procurement system that consistently either significantly undervalues or totally ignores capability and experience, allowing unqualified and ill-equipped companies to undertake contracts with a tacit acceptance of underachievement. The result is a continued proliferation of decades old ineffective solutions that have created the environmental crisis we are confronted with. The procurement industry insulates itself by promoting accountant and managers to positions of authority, until they achieve maximum incompetence. They measure progress in the most inept distillation of the concept of capitalism, the absolute short term triple bottom line without incorporation of any long term impacts or considering the costs of extraction of natural resources from the system. Even the most prudent of financial accounting which is operational costs has been abandon for the cheap, bottom dollar; trim the budget at all cost mentality by our procurement industry. This is the primary obstacle to the introduction of innovation and creativity within the system. Unless you can produce a disruptive technology, a technology which is so clearly more effective and efficient that it overcomes the great risk of adoption by the atrophied decision makers, it is dismissed without consideration. More importantly if it does peak an interest due to its amazing potential, you must be able to immediately deliver the new solution below the existing cost model. It becomes a death sentence attempting to deliver a new technology in a competitive pricing scenario against some Chinese factory which has been pumping out cheap, antiquated products using slave labor wages and amortized machinery.

The system failure in the green industry is equally disheartening and also contributes to my lethargic ambivalence to the future. The manufacturing industry has finally gotten the message after three decades of pounding them with a sledge hammer. “Green” products are now the primary focus of just about all industries that wish to remain competitive, as they appoint sustainability officers and investigate the environmental costs of their products and production facilities. Unfortunately the path of least resistance is not reinventing their products or production processes, but rather “green washing”, telling the consumer some half truths or out right lies about how the company’s commitment of sustainability exceeds all others while continuing to operate under the same destructive methodology. I am appalled at how simplistic the general public has become to advertizing claims. Just tell me seven times and I will believe anything you tell me without questioning its source. An example is the artificial turf industry’s claims of environmental benefits, are we so stupid to believe that installing synthetic turf helps the environment, apparently so because municipalities around the country are funding projects based on their environmental claims. Here’s what one of the most advanced water management agency, the Irvine Water District is saying about synthetic turf. “Many environmental benefits result from replacing turf grass with synthetic turf. At a typical residence (with about 750 square feet of turf) the installation of synthetic turf can conserve approximately 22,000 gallons of water per year. Synthetic turf also requires no fertilizer, no pesticides, no mowing and reduces urban runoff caused by irrigation. It also cuts down on the amount of green waste, like lawn clippings, going into landfills.”

Let’s think about the synthetic turf industry’s environmental claims that they save water, fertilizer and the labor for mowing. They don’t water synthetic turf but they should because it increases the surface temperature of a field by 60 degrees contributing to unhealthy increases in the urban heat island effect, and increasing air conditioning demands. They don’t use fertilizer, but they use wetting agents and antimicrobial chemicals to control pathogens. They don’t mow, but they ride around on tractors and groom almost as frequently. If that’s not enough now let’s examine the composition of the product. There is nothing even close to green technology involved in the synthetic turf industry. It is one of the blackest and dirty heavy chemical oil based industries around. The components that make the rug are polyvinyl chloride, polyethylene, urethane, adhesives, solvents, colorants, fiberglas as well as other toxic elements. That being said the product is then filled with silica sand an EPA registered carcinogen and waste SBR rubber from discarded tires. SBR rubber is the perfect product because there are millions of scrape tires because they are too toxic to dispose of in most landfills. Here’s a partial list of the chemicals identified as being released in SBR rubber from confirmatory analytical studies at the Connecticut Agricultural Experiment Station:

“Benzothiazole: Skin and eye irritation, harmful if swallowed. There is no available data on cancer, mutagenic toxicity, teratogenic toxicity, or developmental toxicity.

Butylated hydroxyanisole: Recognized carcinogen, suspected endocrine toxicant toxicant, gastrointestinal toxicant, immunotoxicant, neurotoxicant, skin and sense-organ toxicant. There is no available data on cancer, mutagenic toxicity, teratogenic toxicity, or developmental toxicity.

n-hexadecane: severe irritant based on human and animal studies. There is no available data on cancer, mutagenic toxicity, teratogenic toxicity, or developmental toxicity.

4-(t-octyl) phenol: corrosive and destructive to mucous membranes. There is no available data on cancer, mutagenic toxicity, teratogenic toxicity, or developmental toxicity.”

The study also detected metals that were leached from the tire crumbs. Zinc was the predominant metal, but selenium, lead and cadmium were also identified. The problem is many, if not most, of the compounds present in tire crumbs and shreds have been incompletely tested for human health effects. In some cases, a partial assessment can be based on the estimated actions of a chemical class or on structural activity characteristics. The concentrations reported in various studies indicated that chemical concentrations exceeded hazardous waste site limits in some cases. What the hell are people thinking? Are we so ignorant to be incapable of making this comparison and understanding which is least harmful?

The public could be forgiven if this was an isolated incident but it is not. Every industry now is hiring legions of “green washers” to devise elaborate stories to convince the public that their toxic ridden product is really Mother Nature in disguise. To make thing worst these corporate giants are buying new green technologies and burying them so they will not disrupt the cash flow from their flagship environmentally toxic solutions. Why invest in hundreds of millions of dollars to upgrade production processes when you can spend a couple million to maintain the status quo. It could be decades before these viable green solutions receive the light of day. How do you assemble an environmental army when the public is continuously fed the opiate of corporate advertizing?

For over three decades I have stood before hundreds of thousands of people advocating for inclusive integrated solutions to our world one which values ecological cycles and connections. I have railed against the worst offenders of the gate keepers against change, challenging the flawed logic and absolute ignorance. I have volunteered for dozens of boards and positions of influence in the industry, where I could help craft policies which would steer the world in a different direction. In the after hours when the sky is dark I have written article after article explaining the simple realization of a dream. A fire in my belly drove me on day after day to make a difference. When I was confronted with failure it angered me and motivated to push on the accelerator even more. I was convinced that if I was to fail I should rather do it sooner, throwing caution to the wind. At times I would cross over to compulsive obsession always looking how to influence change. My motto was “If only I can light enough fuses, maybe someday it will ignite a rocket which can illuminate mankind” Rather lofty and foolish goals for an individual which such a limited set of talents.

The final event that culminated in the perfect storm and my subsequent emotional collapse was the loss of a deeply personal relationship which provided me a reason to continue. Someone who I was mentoring to stand beside me and make the dream come true, someone who could finish my sentences when I had not the will to carry my weight further, someone that knew me better than anyone else in this world. The tragic and abrupt loss of this close relationship was the final piece of my devise. The motivation for continuing my individual assault on the world evaporated whisked away on the breeze in the blink on an eye. My view of the world while in the past although caustic was always optimistic and hopeful but is now brutally fatalistic and bleak. I no longer believe that I possess a key to change the tidal wave of apathy; instead I am content to allow the wave to wash over me and become another lost soul hiding from the reality of my failures. Beneath our brave facades we are all deeply flawed and weak spirits that maintain balance in the faith of a better future. Given the right conditions when our fragilities are exposed our strength disappears leaving only the confused insecurities of a child lost in the woods.

Is this the accumulation of thirty years of effort? A complete emotional flame out, like an old boxer which has had the will beaten out of him, no longer capable of defending a small piece of canvas with ferocity of a lion, but willing to turn his back and walk away? I press my hands to the gaping wound over my heart and watch the life blood of passion and desire bleed from my soul. The most frightening realization is that it concerns me little as despair fills my thoughts. In an attempt to resurrect a healing process I have once again come the healing waters of my youth, the ocean with all its mystical powers of life and faith. This time is different the sound of the pounding surf only echoes my abandonment and loneliness mocking my significance by wiping my footsteps from the sand. The sky is empty, heavy with sorrow and I don’t know how to change it.

Like the spent booster rocket I am without director or purpose, frozen in time. My mind searches for comfort and solace but the only thing that would retrieve me from this pit are unattainable and beyond my meager reach, for change will not come. Instead I dream about what could have been. In that dream I find fulfillment, faith in the future and the simple pleasures which made me smile. Until then “Houston we have a problem”

“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness.”

Henri Nouwen