20090321

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)

20090318

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?

20090315

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

20090309

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