Stalking the Wild Gerbil
Essays for Men
by Tim Baehr
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[Note: The following consists of a partial early draft of a
prospective book based on essays published originally in http://menletter.org
and http://lifesherpa.com. The
material in this post include the Table of Contents,
Foreword, and Section VIII. I welcome comments and
queries and would especially appreciate ideas for or leads
to a publisher or agent that might be interested in the book. You can reach
me at menletter@aol.com.
Thanks.] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ContentsForeword I. Men's Work - Not for Wimps? Not
an Elevator Speech Initiation
and Identity Change Day
Job Men's
Work - Not for Wimps? What
Do Men Need? How
To Start a Men's Group II. The Hero's Journey - Myth and the Man Everyday
Mythology* Making
Connections The
Hero's Journey III. Where Are We Going with the Men's
Movement? - What Men's Movement? Where
Are We Going with the Men's Movement? Drums,
Sweat and Tears The
More Things Change My
"State of the Men" Address IV. What Happens at Men's Gatherings - Drumming
Naked? Drumming
and Poetry What
Happens at Men's Gatherings? Wisdom
Council Vision
Quest V. Defining Men - Manly Men Defining
Men Men
and Violence The
Year of the Manly Man What
Is a Man? VI. Don't Try This at Home - Gender War
Skirmishes Don't
Try This at Home Feelings Hearing
Voices Making
Peace in the Gender Wars The
Peacemaker VII. Live Long and Prosper - Men's Health Live
Long and Prosper Inheritance
and the Seven Numbers That Can Save Your Life Longevity
Gap Six
for Six Reversals
of Fortune VIII. Stalking the Wild Gerbil - Experiments in
Living Speed
Bumps Ugly
Duckling Woulda Coulda Shoulda Shameless Roof
Dogs* Going
Native Appearances* Luck The
Territory Within Turn
Around* Stalking
the Wild Gerbil IX. New Year's Revolutions - Promises, Promises New
Year's Revolutions Resolutions
for Men People,
Places, Things, Ideas True
to Type Preemptive
Strike X. Altered Consciousness - Turning Inward Altered
Consciousness Inner
Life Automatic
Pilot Beauty
and the Beast XI. The Power of Zero - Nothingness and
Meditation Why
Meditate? Instant
Meditation Two-Word
Meditations* Zen
Lite* The
Power of Zero XII. Charlie Brown and the Alien Grave Robbers
- More Experiments The
Crossword Puzzle Recycling Sacred
Places Enough
Is Enough Freakout: Sammy and the Vet* Upside-Down
and Backwards Neither
Hope Nor Fear Inclinations* The
Charlie
Brown and the Alien Grave Robbers XIII. Backward Glances All essays originally appeared in Menletter, an e-mail and on-line journal for
men at http://menletter.org, except *
essays, which appeared in LifeSherpa at http://lifesherpa.com. Copyright 2002-2008. All rights reserved. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Foreword Before we did much of anything else, we men
were hunters. While it's easy to romanticize the prehistoric man, the
"noble savage" of nature, we can assume that survival depended at
least on deep knowledge of certain things - knowledge so deep that we might
call it instinct. Such knowledge must have included the life cycles of
animals, and the other animals and plants they ate; weather and the cycle of
seasons; the local terrain, including water sources. We can also assume
certain skills and abilities: keen eyesight; a good sense of smell;
observational skills, coupled with a very good memory; eye-hand coordination;
cleverness at making tools. And stalking. Stalking involves observation, memory,
patience, discipline, stamina. To the extent that our genome has passed down
at least some of the traits of the hunter, what do we men in the
"civilized world" stalk today - not in the twisted sociopathic way, but really stalk? Some of us are still
hunters, some for food, some for sport. Some of us
apply stalking skills to finding (or keeping) a job or mate. I started thinking about stalking when I
stalked an escaped gerbil - hence the name of one of the essays in this book,
and of the book itself. Stalking the Wild Gerbil is
a series of essays I wrote as I stalked myself, that is, as I experienced
life as a man, as a seeker of my identity as a man, and as a writer about
topics of potential interest to other men. The book is divided into twelve
sections, each containing The twelve sections represent somewhat
arbitrary and overlapping categories. The essays do not fall neatly into the
categories, and you'll find some of them a force-fit with bits and pieces
hanging over the edges. The categories reflect the things I've been
interested in over the years: myths and heroes, the so-called men's movement,
gender wars, men's health, spiritual life, ritual. Two of the largest
sections - a total of 21 essays - don't fit into any neat category. I call
them "experiments" in the sense that they are questions and
ruminations about how my life has gone in the past six decades. Some essays from Menletter
didn't make it into this collection. I felt that they were not clearly
written or were too similar to other essays. One collection of long pieces is
a journal dealing with my experience with the diagnosis, treatment, and
aftermath of prostate cancer. I felt that this topic didn't quite fit in with
the other ones and that the length of the articles would have dominated the
book. You can read the journal at http://tinyurl.com/ywtpxl.
(About Web addresses here and in the essays: I
have occasionally used an Internet service called Tinyurl
to shorten Web addresses and make them easier for you to type in, if you're
so inclined.) AcknowledgmentsMany of the experiences I write about are the result, directly or indirectly, of attending men's gatherings and retreats. One of them in particular, the annual Men's Wisdom Council, has been crucial in my development as a man and as a writer addressing men. Held for a week in mid-June, Wisdom Council is a place of acceptance, zany fun, ritual, and often healing. Some men find at Council that they are truly heard for the first time in their lives. I am profoundly grateful to its founders, John Dorr and Sparrow Hart, various staff members, and the men who attend for this soul-expanding experience. I am particularly indebted to Sparrow for his unstinting encouragement and deep wisdom. I have been a writer since 1968 in a variety of jobs - academic journals, educational publishing, business, and computers. Writing is mostly a solitary endeavor, one that fits in with my natural craving for solitude. Yet most writers, including me, are not completely alone. Encouragement, and gentle corrections, have come from readers of Menletter, including Sparrow Hart, Larry Murphy, Jim Guiness, and several others. Serge Prengel, publisher of Lifesherpa, has offered invaluable advice. And the Menletter website has been hosted ably and amicably by Jim Marsh. All my children and grandchildren (so far) have turned out to be male. My sons, Alan, James, and Max, and my grandsons, Joshua and Jeremy, are terrific human beings. They were frequently a direct or indirect inspiration for the essays. My wife, Ann Landsberg, has been my copy-editor, proofreader, and sounding board, keeping my prose not only accurate but honest. She is a strong advocate of men with a deep understanding of our challenges. I dedicate this book to her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ VIII. Stalking the Wild Gerbil: Experiments in LivingWell, it was a pet gerbil that had escaped. But at the point of escape, it became wild, and my job was to track it down. Which I did. But that experience also created echoes resonating with other experiences and other thoughts. Almost nothing in our lives - a happening or just a random thought - takes place in isolation, and the essays in this section and in Section XII reflect that phenomenon. The ruminations in this section begin with speed bumps in ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Speed BumpsWe're zipping along the highway in I first encountered speed bumps in In a return visit to Speed bumps have some obvious utility. If you're crawling over one at five miles per hour, and can speed up to only 20 between bumps, you're a lot less likely to hit another car or take out a pedestrian. Fewer traffic cops are needed, and the cost of replacing brakes and shocks is probably lower than the cost of insurance, major repairs, hospitalizations, and lawsuits. There are also some obvious drawbacks. Emergency vehicles are equally slowed. Inattentive drivers can ruin their cars. Poorly designed or maintained speed bumps can cause even a carefully driven sedan to bottom out. And they're annoying, especially in Mexican quantities. Or maybe not. I didn't poll any Mexican drivers, but it seems
to me that they regard topes with a
certain amount of nonchalance. For instance, when a half-dozen or more cars
queue up at a speed bump, you don't hear the kind of impatient blaring of
horns that you might expect in The Ah, psychic speed bumps. What happens to us estadounidenses when life throws a big or little speed bump in our path? It could be an illness - a car breakdown - a late friend - a work delay - a tardy child or spouse - a job loss - a broken shoelace - whatever. I think too often we respond with impatience that morphs quickly into anger or despair. And we meet the admonitory cliché to stop and smell the roses with "Yeah, right" or "Maybe tomorrow." (And for most of us, "Maybe tomorrow" really means the same as a caption in one of my favorite New Yorker cartoons: "How about never? Does never work for you?") Sometimes it takes a major tragedy or setback - a wall more than a speed bump - to stop us in our (fast) tracks. We can hope that those more dramatic events will be rare. But the smaller everyday bumps can be instructive and helpful. After all, our lives do not lack speed bumps; they're probably as frequent as the actual Mexican ones. Each of us could probably catalog a couple dozen a week. And what do we do? Sometimes we speed up, denying that the speed bumps exist. After repeatedly bottoming out, damage to our physical or emotional undercarriages is pretty much assured. Sometimes we feel forced to slow down, building up a good head of self-righteous steam to cook our insides or scald an unsuspecting and undeserving friend or family member. What if we took a more relaxed attitude? What if we could realize that life's speed bumps, like the Mexican ones, are an unavoidable part of our journey? We can't be nonchalant about all of the bumps - a blown deadline at work or a chronically late mortgage payment, for instance, could have serious consequences. But ignoring or fighting the rest of them can just put us on the road to misery. Our victory over speed bumps might come from gently applying the brakes, taking a deep breath, and enjoying the ride. February 2007 Ugly DucklingIn Hans Christian Andersen's tale, a duck hatches her eggs and discovers that one of her ducklings is large, gray, clumsy, and ugly. The barnyard animals harass the poor Ugly Duckling until he leaves and becomes a wanderer in the countryside. He survives, but just barely, and a year later approaches a group of beautiful swans swimming in a pond. Expecting to be ostracized anew, he is surprised to find that the swans accept him as one of their own. He looks at his reflection in the water and discovers that he, too, is a beautiful swan. The story is ostensibly about inner beauty and its importance over physical beauty. I think there's more. If the Ugly Duckling had been hatched by a swan, he would have been beautiful to his cohorts. Also, it would be a mistake to think that the Ugly Duckling spent a year in exile, self-identified as a duck, and then somehow just turned magically into a swan. The people I know who started out in life as Ugly Ducklings - and I know quite a few - were always swans, inside and outside. The fact that they didn't fit into their surroundings during a part of their lives made their growing up difficult and sometimes painful. And I can imagine some people continuing their Ugly Duckling-hood right on into adult life - never quite fitting in, being the butts of jokes and ridicule, not quite believing in their inner swan. Two good things can happen to an Ugly Duckling. As in the tale, the Ugly Ducking can develop, unseen by unfriendly eyes, into a swan. We can hope that this has happened, or will happen, to all the Ugly Ducklings in our lives. But another thing may be just as important. Sometimes someone - a teacher, a parent, a mentor, a best friend - will see only the swan-in-the-making and treat the Ugly Duckling not as ugly or a duckling but as himself. Ugly Ducklings fortunate enough to have one or both of these experiences often emerge not only as beautiful "swans," but also as human beings with a deep sense of compassion. They've known the adversity that can arise out of being different, and they seem to have a sixth sense for finding fellow swans among the Ugly Ducklings of the world. May 2007 Woulda Coulda ShouldaSnow by Any Other NameIt's almost a cliché by now: The Inuit have nine (or fifteen) names for "snow," and this fact proves that language determines our perception. Another example of this linguistic determinism is in the perception of the rainbow. We all know (here in the western world) that the colors of the rainbow can be remembered by the name Roy G. Biv - that is, the sequence of Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, and Violet. And we see the seven bands in the sky after many rainstorms. The rainbow spectrum, however, is actually continuous. We see seven bands because we have seven words for those colors. Speakers of some other languages may see only three or four bands, depending on how many words they have for the primary colors. Linguistic determinism has many proponents and detractors, and research continues today in cognitive psychology labs over half a century after Edward Sapir and Benjamin Whorf lent their names to the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis, the most well-known way linguistic determinism is expressed. Similar to Sapir-Whorf is the idea that how we think and act is determined, or at least influenced, by the grammar and vocabulary we use to describe ourselves and our lives. The psychologists call this "self-talk," and it's apparently a popular topic; a Google search yields nearly 800,000 hits for this phrase. Talking To OurselvesSelf-talk can be positive or negative. The negative stuff keeps us stuck in endless loops of failure and misery. The positive stuff is supposed to energize our lives and lead to success. Scott Adams, creator of the Dilbert cartoons, tells of writing a note every day consisting of a specific goal, something like "I will have Dilbert appearing in 135 newspapers." When he reached that goal, he upped the number. Negative self-talk seems, for many of us men, a natural baseline. We're not all abject failures, but we often don't feel very good about ourselves and how our lives are going. I'm reminded of Marlon Brando's lines in On the Waterfront, leading up to the famous "I coulda been a contender": Charlie: Look, kid, I - how much you weigh, son? When you weighed one hundred and sixty-eight pounds you were beautiful. You coulda been another Billy Conn, and that skunk we got you for a manager, he brought you along too fast. Terry:
It wasn't him, Charley, it was you. Remember that night in the Garden you
came down to my dressing room and you said, "Kid, this ain't your night. We're going for the price on Charlie: Oh I had some bets down for you. You saw some money. Terry: You don't understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it. It was you, Charley. Go back through Terry's (Brando's) speeches and you'll find a trio of the words we often use to do ourselves immense damage: "could," "would," and "should." Terry uses variations on these words to explain his current state (he's a bum). He expresses no hope for the future. He's done, and his words seal his fate. Enter the LinguistWhy is this so? What is it about the meaning and grammar of these words that influence (or even determine) Terry's and our perception of our lot in life? "Could," "would," and "should" are called "modals." They work with a main verb to mark the conditional tense (or conditional mood) in English. The conditional mood is used to express conditions that are hypothetical or contrary to fact. Terry "coulda been a contender," but he wasn't. One fascinating aspect of these modals is that, grammatically, they are the past tense of three other modals: "can," "will," and "shall." The present-tense forms are used to predict events in the future ("I can/will/shall do it tomorrow."). So the past-tense forms might be called, ironically, the "past future." Terry went back through time to "predict," retroactively, his current state. Like Terry, we often reach into the past and make predictions that explain our current and often sorry state. We thereby let ourselves off the hook. And very often we don't have a Charlie to talk to; we talk to ourselves. "I should have been kinder." "She wouldn't treat me that way if. . . ." "I would be rich by now if only. . . ." "I coulda been a contender (or famous surgeon or brilliant writer, or . . .)." It's a quiet, insistent, nagging voice, isn't it? What kind of time warp is this? How many of us travel back in the "Woulda coulda shoulda" machine, not to change the present but simply to give our present misery a sense of inevitability? In other words, how many of us use one particular linguistic structure to allow ourselves to wallow in regret? Apparently a lot of us: An exact-phrase Google search of "woulda coulda shoulda" yields nearly 200,000 responses. Time travel is apparently easier than staying in the present and dealing with our current situation. Accentuating the PositiveWhat happens when we use language, especially in the stories we tell and predictions we make about ourselves, to create a better future? Many books and websites propound some kind of positive self-talk, and some of them may actually be helpful. Others sound like New Age happy-talk, mildly to profoundly irritating. Do we have to slog through an entire book or website to find out anything truly useful? What if we kept things really simple and started remembering to use the present-tense forms: I can, I will, I shall. Even in rehashing past defeats, these phrases can be healing and powerful. I screwed up. I can do better than that; in fact, I can remember doing better in other situations. I will be better prepared next time. I shall start planning now. Can we influence, or even determine, the path of our lives by adopting three simple words? Let's try. September 2007 ShamelessOne of the most refreshing accusations that have been made against a young man I know is that he is shameless. After a difficult and often lonely youth in which (among many other things) other kids would torment him just to see him volcanically lose his temper, he blossomed in college into a funny, likable, popular young man with a bunch of close friends. One result of the very hard work he did on himself is that he is now more motivated by what he thinks of himself and not by what others think of him. He may not be totally immune to shame, but he comes close. He may not always choose the right course or make the right decision, but his regret quotient is fairly low. Most of us have heard the rhyming phrases "blame and shame" and "the shame game," possibly from survivor groups or recovery groups. The problem I have with catch-phrases is that they may be fresh at first but quickly lose their flavor - sort of like the end of the second bowl of ice cream. We all grow up with a certain amount of shame that is instilled in us by family, religion, or societal expectations. We're unhappy about being shamed, but the catch phrases run the risk of trivializing the phenomenon. The Usefulness of ShameSocieties generally like to keep things uniform and on an even keel. While rebels, scalawags, pioneers, and free-thinkers may be occasionally celebrated, they are also often shunned or punished. Shame comes in handy in a society for keeping people in line. Public nudity? For shame! Farting? Look the other way. Anything having to do with sex? Just thinking about it can make some people blush. Belching? Nah, not in polite company. Money? Harder than sex for some people to talk about. Even everyday happenings can be infused with shame: You eat like a pig. You're lazy. You're inconsiderate. You dress funny. You talk funny. You're different. You don't fit in. You're a dork. You're a wallflower. You're shallow. All of these big chunks and little bits of shame are aimed, I think, at enforcing social norms. Many, perhaps most, of the social norms are seen as absolutes. But different societies may value different things. Belching, for instance, is seen in some societies as a compliment to the cook. In some societies, sex and sensuality are seen as natural and no big deal, or even celebrated. The rules vary even among sub-groups in a society. Men can do and talk about certain things among ourselves, but not in "mixed" or "polite" company. Same with women. Another thing that can make us feel shame is insulting or hurting another person. Even when this hurt is unintentional, we feel horrible and get down on ourselves as bad people. That, or we get defensive and try to rationalize or justify our way out of the shame. If Not Shame . . .What would it be like to lead a truly shameless life? Would it be all that wonderful to disregard what others think of us? Would we feel free to be totally selfish, regardless of how we might hurt other people? No? What would stop us, if not for real or anticipated shame? And what would motivate us to do the right things in life? If we have no shame, what do we have to make us decent human beings? There are positive motivations for some things. We feed and take care of our babies and children because doing so gives us pleasure, and because we feel responsible for their lives. We work and often try to do a good job because we're being paid and because of the prospect of a raise or promotion. There are some negative motivations, too. We obey traffic laws because we don't want to wreck our cars or get hurt. If we clean up after ourselves, it may be because we don't want to live in a pig sty. If we try to eat right, it may be to avoid obesity or poor health. What about other matters, such as how we treat other people? If we can't or won't be shamed into following the norms of society, do we just plow ahead with our own agenda, disregarding everyone and everything? I return to the young man I mentioned at the beginning. He does occasionally irk those around him with what seems to be inconsiderate or rude behavior. Often this is just flouting the norms of a society that has given him more than his quota of shame. Sometimes it is his commitment to having fun, often at the expense of getting "real" work done, even when others are depending on him. There's another side to him, however, a kind of profound decency. He has deep compassion and empathy for people, especially those who are vulnerable or hurting because they're different. His understanding of emotional pain goes beyond his 20 years on this planet. Even in his teens, when he was a summer camp counselor, he had a special ability for dealing with misbehaving 10-year-olds whose bad behavior arose out of this kind of pain, and who had been shamed as a result. Memories of his own pain at that age allowed him to show these kids a level of acceptance they hadn't experienced. He has a collection of friends now who are not total misfits but who are definitely not conventional either. And the operating phrase for much of their devotion to each other is "We've got each other's backs." This is not physical protection so much as it is mutual emotional and psychological support. Then . . . What?The driving force of decent people who have eschewed or abandoned shame seems to be compassion. It may take the rest of our lives to wipe out the shame we've accumulated so far. But (since shame has been useful at times in making us good citizens in our society), we need a replacement. Compassion is a good candidate. We can feel bad about hurting someone. If the bad feeling comes from shame, we may or may not feel compelled to change our behavior. In fact, shame can be a doorway to self-justification and rationalization to reduce our shame - while doing nothing about the pain we have inflicted. If the bad feeling comes from compassion, we are feeling the other person's hurt as our own. To reduce our pain, we have to reduce the other person's pain. As for social niceties that may irritate other folks but not really hurt them, the unconditional innocence of youth is a worthy goal - before our "will," "shall," and "can" were replaced by the conditional and often guilt-ridden "would," "should," and "could" of conventional adulthood. QuestionsHere are some questions I've asked myself over the years: · Do I act out of shame or compassion? · Is my natural shyness confounded with shame about who and what I am? · Does shame drive me to be polite and nice to people? · Does my socialized politeness hide a vicious streak? · How strongly do I need other people's approval to feel good? · What would it look like to put a little more shamelessness in my life? September 2006 Roof DogsIt's If you're in These are not indoor pets; they're roof dogs, or perros de techo.
Found throughout American expats in Menacing barks cascading through the canine community deep in
the dark hours of night is a common occurrence. (I experienced them, along
with vociferous roosters with no sense of time, in San Miguel de Allende, an arty expat haven
near Guanajuato.) Long-time residents sleep right
through the open-air jam session, just as I sleep through the sound of cars
galumphing over the speed bump right outside my bedroom window in The earliest hours of the morning can be a time of reveries and free associations. One morning, as I wondered whether sleep or another round of barking would arrive first, I also wondered about our own internal roof dogs. What ghost sets off the frantic, angry barking in our souls? How do other folks' roof dogs set us off, infecting us with their frenzy, and leaving us howling at our friends, our family, or our unfed, untamed lives? We may find these roof dogs when we're behind the wheel of our car, at work competing for the attention of a neglectful boss, in our relationships with friends and family, or anywhere we're super-vigilant for potential harm or injury. What part of us is always on patrol, watchful for any and all threats, real or imagined? Is this an unfed and neglected aspect of ourselves that we need to lead down into the garden, feed, and skritch behind the ears? I can't answer these questions for myself, and much less for
anyone else. But when the barking of the roof dogs of our souls wakes us up
at April 2007 Going NativeInnocents AbroadA long time ago, along the Mohawk Trail (Route 2) in Ugly AliensJust a few years ago, my family was sitting in a small bistro
in Published in 1958, The
Ugly American was a novel about clueless Americans abroad (in I've changed the term to "ugly aliens" because the phenomenon
doesn't seem to be purely American, at least any more. I've seen Italians
screaming at Taiwanese jewelry-makers at Disney World's EPCOT because they
couldn't make themselves understood. I've seen British and German tourists
regarding cathedrals and architectural treasures of Neo NativesMy father-in-law used to make the distinction between tourists and immigrants. Immigrants eventually have to find ways to cope with the local culture, unless they isolate themselves in expatriate ghettoes. But there's one kind of immigrant at the far end of the spectrum from the innocent or the ugly. This is the person who "goes native," adopting the local dress, customs, and language, and practically obliterating any traces of the culture from which he has emanated. This is the stuff of romance: the "gone-native" individual usually seems to be in some tropical clime, deeply tanned, with a native spouse or live-in companion. He may or may not be doing useful work except as a writer or artist. As jolly and contented as this person may seem, there is often an undercurrent of naivete and sadness. Real-life people who go native sometimes come to suffer from a psychological disorder called anomie. This is the sense of being cut adrift, not belonging to any cultural or value system. Having dived into the deep end of their adopted cultural ocean, they swim along nicely for a while; but eventually they find that they are drowning, and that the distance to the once-familiar shore of their origins is too far away to swim back to. Beyond TravelThese three phenomena - the innocent, the ugly alien, and the neo-native - are not limited to foreign travel. Let's look at a couple of other areas in which the phenomena take place. Business. I was one of the innocents during most of my business career: totally unaware of (or indifferent to) the culture of the companies I worked for and therefore susceptible to exploitation or disappointment. The ugly aliens were often the successful ones. These were the folks with the MBAs who took the business culture they had learned in school and rammed it unceremoniously into the companies that hired them. The neo-natives abandoned any shred of individuality and allowed themselves to become absorbed completely into the corporate culture. Their anomie was often triggered by one of two events: they stopped being promoted, or they were promoted to a level at which they were incompetent. Gender relations. The innocent man never quite gets it about women, or at least about the woman he is living with. He retains a child-like view of relationships, seeking what will please him (the equivalent of the gift-shop tom-tom) and is unaware of any notion of authenticity. Ugly aliens are more grown up, but steeped so deeply in their own masculinity that women are their own personal theme park. They are aware of women's culture and needs but devalue them and subordinate them to their own. Neo-natives don't become women, but they do adopt much of women's culture. They may be metrosexual men who worry constantly about complexion and clothing styles. They may be male feminists who adopt women's liberation as their own campaign, ignoring or devaluing problems men may have and speaking indignantly about the patriarchy. They may be men who abandon most or all of their autonomy as men in order to immerse themselves in a relationship. Anomie may kick in when a man is betrayed by his adopted culture (this may be what happened to Warren Farrell when - after being on its board of directors - he was drummed out of the National Organization for Women), when he tries to reassert his masculinity and is met with confusion or scorn, or when he simply discovers that he has no idea of who he really is. What Now?Are we doomed to be an innocent, an ugly alien, or a neo-native? Do we have to choose, or is there another way? Here are some ideas that may work: Growing up. Childlike innocence is great for children, and it can serve an adult well under some circumstances, as in approaching a work of art or the beauty of nature. But informing ourselves of the world and seeking authentic experiences can prevent us from bringing home "genuine" souvenirs of life and discovering, too late, the "Made in Some-other-foreign-country" label. Learning respect. A lot of ugly alien behavior can be prevented if we learn that we and our culture (ethnic, national, gender, etc.) are not unique, or at least not the only worthy ones. Respect goes beyond tolerance (which has the whiff of superiority) to a place where we can respect and appreciate differences without necessarily embracing all of them. Knowing ourselves. If we have no idea of who we are, how can
we possibly know about anyone else? Males often spend a majority of time in
their early years in the company of women: mothers, day-care providers, and
elementary teachers. They may get involved with girlfriends, and even get
married, without having spent much time with older men. Our models for
masculinity come from television and movies: buffoons, sports heroes, thugs,
and supermen. Also, no one - male or female - seems to be encouraged to
engage in any introspection. We can find ourselves vulnerable to being
absorbed into jobs and relationships, "going native" but not
knowing what we're giving up. Spending time with other men, and quietly with
ourselves, can help us stay grounded on our native turf. June 2005 AppearancesWe all
know the old bromides: can't tell a book by its cover; things are not as they
seem; appearances can be deceiving. Here are a few of stories about this. Snakes in the PillowI just
couldn't make sense of what I saw. I knelt in my bed, staring at my pillow.
Ridges and folds were crisscrossing the pillow in a regular pattern; the
shadows were emphasized by light coming in through the window. To a
twelve-year-old at Logical
explanation or not, I wanted more evidence. I stared and stared, waiting for
something to move. Nothing happened. I was riveted to the spot, barely daring
to breathe. What if I missed something? Several times I told myself I was
being ridiculous. We lived, after all, on a quiet side street in a suburb of I was,
by now, whimpering. And embarrassed. I didn't want to go get my mom; the
snakes might move. But I desperately needed some adult presence. I could call
out, but what if they really weren't snakes? But then what was I so clearly
seeing? Round and round my thoughts whirled. I had convinced myself, against
all logic and experience, that the best, most likely explanation for the
ridges and folds was snakes. The
whole episode so far had probably taken no more than ten minutes, which my
preadolescent mind had expanded into an eternity. Finally, heart beating, I
poked tentatively at one of the ridges. It collapsed under my touch. Nothing
there but air. I poked somewhere else. Same thing. I smoothed the pillow,
tossed it on the floor where it wouldn't scare me again, and went to sleep. Eau de PourritureA
friend of the family received a package from her daughter, a continent away.
In the top of the packing material was a bottle of the vilest, most putrid
cologne imaginable. Mother and daughter have had a mixed relationship - not
love/hate exactly but not always cordial. Mother was aghast. Why would
Daughter send such an obviously obnoxious gift? How could she thank her
daughter with anything resembling sincerity? She brought the issue to her
therapist, and they strategized and rehearsed for
two, maybe three, sessions. Finally Mother screwed up her courage and called
Daughter. The conversation went something like this: Mom:
Thank you for the cologne. I was very surprised to receive the Eau de Pourriture. Daughter:
Eau de Pourriture! That's the vilest most putrid
stuff imaginable! They must have screwed up my order. Uh, wait a minute. Was
the bottle pretty small? Mom:
Well, yes. . . . Daughter:
They must've stuck it in as a free sample. Was there anything else in the
box? Mother
fished around in the packing material. Near the bottom was a larger bottle of
a different cologne, which she had always loved. The JonesesMany
years ago, my dad gave me a subscription to a financial newsletter called The Kiplinger Letter. I haven't read
it in 30 or 40 years, but it's still in print. One article especially caught
my eye during the years I subscribed. The author described some families in a
neighborhood, all of them jealous of each others' good fortune. One family
traveled to exotic places every year. One family entertained lavishly; also,
it had an expensive car in the driveway. There were other families, lost to
memory, but these two will illustrate the point. The Kiplinger editors
interviewed the families and made some interesting discoveries. The
traveling family really liked to travel, and it had made summer and winter
vacations a priority in their lives. To accommodate this activity, they had
economized on nearly everything else. When they were at home, they never ate
out. They didn't wear fashionable clothes. Their home cooking consisted of
lots of beans and cheap cuts of meat. The
husband of the entertainers was in sales for a large international
corporation. The fancy car was owned by his company. Since he was a
vice-president of sales, it was expected that he would entertain any
customers or suppliers that came through town. This meant that, at least once
a month, and sometimes twice, the family had to offer its home for corporate
entertainment. The family was reimbursed for the food and catering staff, but
not for the disruptions to its domestic life. Knowing and Forgiving - And UnknowingThere's
an old French saying, Tout comprendre, c'est tout pardonner. ("To know all is to forgive
all." - attributed to a MMe. De Stael, 1807). Forgiveness may not always feel like an
option, but the saying is an invitation to look below the surface of things.
It may be impossible to "know all"; we're not omniscient. We have
to make assumptions. But
what about me and my snakes, and the Mother and the Neighbors? Weren't we all
making assumptions, wrong as they were? I had a fear of snakes. What better
explanation for the shadows on the pillow? Mother had a sometimes tempestuous
relationship with Daughter. Why not assume the worst? The Neighbors had
nothing to go on but what they could observe. Why not assume that everybody
else had a better deal in life? We want
to know answers; we want things to make sense. For lack of evidence, we make
assumptions, sometimes right and sometimes wrong. We can get hurt either way.
But sometimes we need to live in the unknowing, or even make assumptions that
do not harm us. I was
able to come up with only one assumption about the pillow. Fear blotted out
any other reasonable explanations, even when I was able to think of them. I
created a worst-case scenario, literally out of whole cloth! Mother
apparently made one very big assumption: "I am not worthy of my
daughter's love." Mom had some options that she probably considered:
Daughter was acting out on a negative impulse. Daughter got the order wrong.
Daughter really thought Mom would like the stuff. In any case, acknowledgment
and a thank-you were going to be uncomfortably awkward. But Mom did not
think, apparently, that there must be something else in the box. That would
have required either a suspension in knowing or an assumption that Daughter
would never have sent such a putrid gift. The
Neighbors had made some assumptions, too: Somehow, the Travelers and the
Entertainers were better or more worthy than the rest of the Neighbors. Or
perhaps they were just luckier. Or high-falutin'.
The Neighbors apparently didn't or couldn't suspend judgment or assume that
the objects of their jealousy might have made trade-offs. And they certainly
didn't seem capable of simply being happy that someone else was apparently
prospering. When
our assumptions lead to paralyzing fear or hard feelings, we're hurting
ourselves. When those assumptions are wrong, we're hurting ourselves twice.
We can't always be sunny optimists, blindly thinking that everything is for
the best. But we can make our assumptions more positive in the face of unknowing. Closer to HomeHere
are some examples that may come closer to home. One: A
driver cuts across two lanes in front of us to make an illegal turn. We slam
on the brakes and swear. It's easy to assume that the other driver is
incompetent, drunk, or just a dirt bag. Even when the adrenaline stops
flowing, our good mood has evaporated. But we really don't know what was up
with the other driver. Perhaps there was an emergency, and the driver was
headed to the hospital. Perhaps the driver was inattentive because he or she
was arguing with a passenger. The driver may have just found out he or she
has cancer. The point is, there's no way to verify any assumption, and all of
them (or all but one of them) must be wrong. The assumptions we make are more
about us than the other person. And maybe the healthiest response is to make
a benign assumption, take a breath, and feel compassion for the other
driver's problems. Two:
Your boss calls a meeting and upbraids the entire team: You're all lazy,
you're all careless, your productivity stinks. She
singles some members out for special abuse. You know that the team's output
hasn't diminished; in fact, you're all putting in overtime to get a project
done. When the meeting is over, everyone storms out of the room, determined to
update their resumes and get the heck out. It's easy to assume that the boss
has lost all perspective, that she hates everyone, that she is a totally
incompetent and mean middle manager. But then you remember a couple of
things: Middle management often involves all the responsibility and none of
the power. Upper management, isolated from the worries and challenges of
day-to-day operation, can just as blindly lash out at its middle managers,
demanding results that no team could reasonably expected to produce. Your
boss is caught in a nearly impossible situation; her job may be on the line.
Yes, she could have handled things better. And yes, there's an opportunity
here to make the better assumption, show some empathy, offer support, suggest
solutions. None of this may work, but at least you're not taking on her hurt
and making it your own. Three:
You go out to the driveway to discover a nasty, creased dent in the side of
your car. Your teenage son was the last one to use the car, but he hasn't
said a word. Assuming the worst, you can imagine that Sonny was speeding,
drag-racing, drinking, horsing around, or any of several explanations. And
his failure to tell you is a sure sign of his guilt. You storm into the house
to confront him, waking him out of his mid-morning sleep after a long night
out. A battle royal ensues. But let's just slow this down a bit. You actually
don't know what happened. The car may have been sideswiped while parked at
the mall. Your son may not have even noticed the damage; it's on the passenger
side. He may have been in a minor accident but be afraid to tell you about
it, not because he's dishonest but because for some reason he is afraid of
you in general. The negative assumptions you made may be a lot more about you
than about your son. Of course you're upset about the car, but there are
facts still undiscovered. So you suspend judgment, entertain one or two more
innocent assumptions to go along with the bad ones, think that your son may
be even more upset than you are, and wait for him to wake up. You've
accomplished some perspective and perhaps some inner composure,
and you can address the situation as a joint problem to be solved. In the
meantime, you've done yourself a favor by not tying up your energies in anger
and recrimination that might, ultimately, be misplaced. Pollyanna Need Not ApplyDo we
always need to assume the best? Is blind, foolish optimism ever more than
just blind and foolish? I don't think we're talking about putting a happy or
hopeful face on everything we encounter. But it seems easier for most of us
to make unwarranted, evidence-free negative assumptions than positive ones.
It's a human tendency to try to explain things to ourselves in the absence of
data. And the explanations are almost always negative - hence, the rumor mill
in many work or academic settings. There's an alternative. Accept not
knowing. Entertain positive assumptions along with negative ones. Let the
facts come out, if they will. And, lacking hard data, assume the best. We'll
be exercising kindness and compassion not only for others but for ourselves. January 2006 LuckI am very lucky. I broke my ankle when I was ten. I've been plagued by chronic mouth sores since I was one. I've been seriously overweight and out of shape. I dropped out of graduate school. I got my college girlfriend pregnant and had to marry her. My career never really took off. I've been fired and laid off. My first marriage ended in divorce. My home has been broken into three times. One of my cars has been broken into three times; another car was stolen twice. I've abandoned my religion. Twice. I've been very close to being a chronic drunk. My youngest son has Tourette Syndrome. Both my parents are dead. I'm in the middle of a lawsuit that could cost me my house and my retirement funds. I have battled cancer. Lucky? Granted, many of the things on the list are chump change compared to the horrible things some people have gone through. But however long or short a list we might write, most of us could probably convince ourselves that we've had our share of bad luck. What is luck anyway, and what does it mean to be lucky? It might be useful to look at luck as simply anything that happens to us outside of our control. Good luck seems to award us with benefits we didn't deserve. Bad luck seems to plague us with pain and sorrows we didn't deserve. What about luckiness or unluckiness? Are there people who are simply lucky or unlucky? Sure. We see that all the time. What's behind that? Is it karma, cosmic retribution, bad things happening to good people and vice-versa, manifestations of "Shit happens," or what? What about people who make their own luck through hard work, attention to detail, ruthlessness, and so on? I can't answer any of this. I just know that I'm lucky, often in spite of or because of some of the items on my list. I wasn't always this way. For years I was convinced that luck was a more or less random phenomenon, and I came to terms with the fact that some people were a lot more and a lot less lucky than I was. And, gloomy guy that I am, I saw myself as less lucky than average. But then I started noticing some strange things happening. As I became older and perhaps matured a bit, I began to see that when I felt lucky, I got lucky. This had nothing to do with winning the state lottery ("I'm feeling lucky today!"). It had to do with a basic attitude that the events over which I had no control were neither good nor bad in themselves. In other words, they were neither lucky nor unlucky. They were just events. These events could limit or expand my options, my freedom to make my way in the material world. But they could not limit my basic ability to choose how I would react. When I chose good luck, good luck happened. I don't want to be misleading here. I am not happy or even serene when things happen that make me or other people suffer. Having cancer and undergoing the surgery and aftermath weren't exactly a picnic in the park. And I'm not numb to things that give me or other people pleasure. Having a fast recovery from the surgery and a surge of new energy was an unexpected delight. Seeing my wife and sons enjoy success and friendships gives me great joy. But there's always this undercurrent of a sense that, in the long run, no event or series of events - lucky or unlucky - will define who I am. Armed with that attitude, I tend to see myself as lucky, and I'm able to interpret many of my life events in a positive way. This is not optimism or a Polyanna-ish idealism. It's a kind of hard-eyed vision of my role in choosing to go forward no matter what and to be on the lookout for things to turn out favorably. The flip side doesn't work out as well. When I've been on the lookout for things to turn out badly, I haven't been disappointed in my predictions. I'd rather live the other way. July 2004 The Territory WithinThe cage was offloaded from the truck. The lion had been transported from far away. Maybe it was from an animal hospital; maybe it was simply being relocated in the wild. Whatever the case, the lion had been in the cage a long time. A lion expert opened the cage. I don't remember now whether he was standing by the cage or working from a distance. (If it had been my lion, I would have been extremely careful. I would imagine that a caged-up lion could be ready to spring angrily forth, relieved to be free at last, and ready for a fight. I suppose he might be delighted to be free, leaping out of his cage and gamboling on the savannah for a while before he ambled off into the bush. I wouldn't take the chance, however.) Minutes passed. The lion lay in the cage, not moving much. Perhaps he sniffed around a bit and surveyed his surroundings. There was no other movement. Was the lion still sick? Was he depressed about finding himself in unfamiliar surroundings? The lion expert knew, of course, what was going on. With considerable prodding and an enticing treat, he got the lion out of the cage. Like many animals, the lion is territorial. Lions defend their territories by patrolling the territorial borders, roaring to let other prides know of their presence, and marking with urine and feces. With enough time in the cage, the newly transplanted lion had established the cage as his territory. He would not leave it without a lot of encouragement. Our TerritoriesAre we humans territorial? Is our territoriality instinctual (as with many animals), or learned? With so much social and political influence on our behavior, it might be hard to tease out the instinctual from the learned. Let's assume that we have some sense, however vestigial, of the instinctual need to defend our space. With varying degrees of ferocity, even violence, we defend our nations and states; our homes; our families. We may even feel territorial about a parking space or a portion of highway or one end of a football field. Most of us can probably think of a time when defending a piece of ground had gone beyond the rational. As bad and inadvisable as it may be, for example, road rage may not be crazy or morally wrong so much as it is the overwhelming of our rational selves by ancient instincts. As real as our poor lion's cage was to him, I think he was also protecting a more abstract territory. What had once been a portion of all outdoors had become, perhaps, an exercise in pure territoriality, stripped of most of the usual cues. We humans once lived most of our lives outdoors, intimately familiar with our surroundings. Our survival depended on that familiarity. Our survival also must have depended on protecting a territory in which our clan or tribe hunted and gathered food. It doesn't take much of a conceptual leap to imagine a modern general tendency toward an instinctual sense of territoriality, stripped of its natural cues. And I think territoriality plays out in more arenas than national defense or road rage. In fact, it may permeate our lives in many ways we haven't thought about. Territorial MetaphorsWe can find one indication of our ingrained territoriality in the metaphors of our language. Here are some expressions whose meanings give rise to territorial images of earth and territory: · We stood our ground. · He took the high road. · Let's see this from another vantage point. · They wouldn't give an inch. · I cleverly undermined his arguments. · You're treading on dangerous ground. · What's the area of your expertise? |