I wanted my newspaper's owner to buy some Gannett southern New Mexico newspapers and name me publisher. I now see that, as of a few months ago, Gannett sold to somebody else and a guy who had been the publisher, after I left, at my previous newspaper site is now there.
I'm pissed.
"It's time" entered my thoughts repeatedly during vacation.
But, HOW?
"Humaste" is a word that, AFAIK, I invented two years ago while on vacation, at least in the form I use it. It's the secular humanist version of "namaste" and a direct riff on it: I recognize and salute the human in you because of the human. in me.
As a secularist, I don't agree with the idea of namaste in general and also see Gandhi's use of it along with "harijan" to be condescending or patronizing to Dalits, untouchables, "scheduled" castes, outcastes, etc.
That can include recognizing the ugly, or even in a degree, the bad, in others, along with the good, the true and the beautiful, because that's all par of being human.
I don't believe that these salutes will increase any non-existent karma in any way. I just want to offer them.
So, first, humaste to the "it girl" of a couple of weeks ago.
Second, humaste to the mom of the apparent special needs kid (he looked about 18, and not sure whether his needs were more physical or mental) on the beach at Crescent City, California.
Third, humaste to the apparent homeless in Eureka, California, bundled up against a Scotland-like summer night.
Fourth and related, humaste to the people gathering driftwood sticks to either sell to others or to use themselves for driftwood art in Crescent City, as you scrabble forward through semi-subsistence level living.
A couple of weeks ago, while on vacation, I was hiking the Grove of Titans trail at Jedidiah Smith Redwoods State Park. I was coming back to the trailhead, when a young lady, I'm guessing early 20s, perhaps late teens, asked me, "Isn't this the most beautiful spot in the world?" or something very similar.
It was quite a nice spot. And, since the various state parks in the Redwood State and National were created before the national park, they arguably have the best lands within the system.
That said, per the old Latin phrase, de gustibus non disputandum, this is to some degree a subjective question. I indicated that, and noted I had been at a few other places that could be in the running. (She was from Los Angeles and might not have been to many such places.)
But, that's a secondary issue.
Why did you, a young attractive lady (and she was, indeed) ask ME that, instead of somebody else?
There was no flirtation involved on her part. And, physically, yes, she was attractive, but, and don't take this sexist-ly, but it wasn't in a "foxy" sense. It was in a fit, slim, attractive, healthy, well-scrubbed sense.
After I got back to the trailhead and hopped in my rental, some part of me thought, and kind of wished I had said to her, in a non-horny sense, something to the effect of "If I were a lot younger, I would feel [have said] 'wherever you are is the most beautiful spot.'"
I then thought about the idea of serendipity, which is part of why I'm journaling here right now.
In short, this reinforced that I reject the idea of serendipity, at least in the quasi-metaphysical to fully metaphysical way that most people mean it. Just like I reject that idea of "luck."
In fact, the two are tied together, on a non-metaphysical definition of luck.
Serendipity is just some people being luckier than others after a chance event that takes on ex post facto meaning due to that later luck.
It would be nice if this meeting had been serendipitous. I'm not holding my breath.
To be the guest speaker at its annual conference, its Congress.
To expand on what I said in an email forum?
Hari will be "interesting." He's certainly a "name" beyond the likes of a Candace Selby, who has been the top level of speaker at previous Lifering Congresses. It's certainly a "get" to get him.
Of course, that itself doesn't mean so much unless Lifering does good marketing of this, since its Congress is still, post-COVID, online oriented. Ditto in spades on getting Hari to market Lifering.
As for Hari? I've not read Magic Pill, but I have seen some reviews, including a semi-crushing one by The Guardian that brought up his past plagiarism and other things. He's also had to officially apologize for a wrongful claim that food critic Jay Rayner used Ozempic.
I gave Chasing the Scream three stars, and if you pushed me, it would be about 2.5. Lost Connections got four.
Several years after my parents' divorce, and especially after she decided to start going by her middle name, my sis started taking a more critical look at dad's family tree and family history. And, especially as our No. 2 brother anointed himself as guardian of dad's family heritage, my sis started doing that more with mom's family tree, especially with Grandma G.
Now, I'm distanced enough from both sides of the family tree that I don't need to do any heritage guardianship, and can also look skeptically at things.
The biggie to me always starts with: Why did mom take so long to get married? No. 2 is: Why did she marry someone younger than herself?
She was 26 when she and dad got married in 1955, in the latter half of the baby boom era. And, while not totally "old maid," yes, that was several years later than average.
The age difference? Dad was 16 months younger than her. Again, not normal for back then.
Plus, mom was a TWA stewardess back then. Back when that was a big deal, and women had to meet weight requirements, and then, still got dumped by the airlines in their early 30s. Just on the looks angle, why hadn't somebody picked her up?
There's the added factor that dad got cold feet and looked at backing out, after officially proposing. Mom's parents said: Oh, no you don't. Given that dad was eyeing going back to seminary, beyond broken engagements in the middle-class world being a big deal in general, it would have been a ginormous deal with the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod.
But, why, if he didn't really want mom, did they insist? With TWA looks and all, was mom psychologically not marriage material?
Before the time I was 12, maybe already at 10, just possibly a bit younger, I knew I didn't want to have kids when I grew up because I thought mom was mentally ill. As an adult, I pegged it as schizotypal disorder as a best guesstimate.
Since most mental health issues, especially personality disorders, are as much or more nature than nurture, what was mom's childhood background in the G home?
I also find it interesting that Grandma and Grandpa G never had a second child. Yes, it was the Depression, but? Grandpa was a St. Louis cop, and may have already made detective by this time. He never lost his job. Grandma's family had a small amount of money already at that time, I think. Not rich, but "comfortable" to some degree, unless they lost all of it.
So, was Grandma unable to have a second child? Or just did not want to, and was vehement about that, and stood up to Grandpa G more than mom did to dad? If it was psychological, was there some sort of competition for Grandpa's attention as mom grew up?
Humaste to me. If I'll practice that.
Another decent vacation to sis and the family. Still don't know what she'll do when Andrew semi-retires, let alone what he'll do if she does the semi-independent life she says she'll do.
As for me? Recovering from the flu after getting back here to Tex-ass, with the massively stuffed sinuses, and perhaps a deviated (deviant?) septum, or too-large adenoids that I didn't outgrow, contra Dr. Diddams, and that provoking a small touch of asthma, and an even bigger touch of fear of breathing problems.
And, with that psychology, and the vacation being "OK," as in "use it or lose it" at a semi-trapped job, and as at times I do feel a bit lonely, not just alone, and as in, wishes here and there aside, I'm sure I'll remain lifelong single ....
I feel mini-depressed. Dreams and hypnagogic thoughts while lying in bed lead me to reflect on life, and think of life's sometime shallowness, and perhaps my degree of sometime shallowness, to the degree that Dr. Miles whatever was correct — though to the degree he was correct on the "that," he knew nothing about the "why."
And, in part because of being frugal with the heater, I really, really feel chilled to the bone even as I am at least semi-recovered from the flu.
I have for what, 20 years, referenced Eliot's Prufrock that "I have measured out my life with coffee spoons." That's even as a NASA civilian astronaut candidate says I have lived an interesting life. Shy, neurotic? Constrained? Check, check and check.
Some things may be interesting, but, anything employment-related or relationship-related has been measured with coffee spoons indeed.
Unless there's two unexpired terms, or unless I missed something and the old 3-3-3 on three-year terms became a 5-4 on two-year terms, for the first time since I left Lifering's board of directors, if I recall, it has a contested election. Well, two contested elections in that five people were running for three spots. That's good, in terms of investment and involvement.
Not so good? A proposed bylaws amendment change, because it was rejected by in-person delegates, doesn't go to us absentee voters for a vote. I didn't realize that, several years ago, when absentee voting was approved by bylaws amendment, there was a proviso that kept us as second-class voters.
This piece from PsyPost, in talking about differences in PTSD symptoms between combat veterans and sexual abuse survivors, lays it out simply. Sexual compulsions for child sexual assault survivors in particular may well be about sexual control.
Ain't that the truth.
Like many people in recovery, for various reasons, gratitude is sometimes an issue. If you're like me, it's more the issue of accepting compliments from others, without minimizing explainers attached in return, than it is being grateful for the outside world.
But, it can be both.
Anyway, recently, I realized in reflection that it was a problem for my dad on the other side. He just couldn't be grateful that often, or at least not publicly express it. I don't think it was an "older generation" thing of bottling up emotions as the primary cause. Rather, I think that it may have been a fear of looking psychologically weak and indebted, admitting he needed help at times (and had just gotten it) and related matters.
In specific, after he got his PhD at Concordia Seminary and was stuck with fill-in preaching because he didn't get a "call" to a Lutheran college, and also didn't get one to a Lutheran congregation, it was me that put a bug into the ear of a pastor visiting St. Louis that broke that logjam on the parish side. Yeah, Flint was already going downhill, but "East European ethnics" plus German-Americans in his congregation, it was a place he liked in many ways. Any thanks to me? Not that I recall.
I realized recently, after getting some new emails from Marie and journaling about it, that that's what I seek from life as much as possible.
Whether it's psychlogically good or bad, in the sense of healthy or unhealthy, that's been my goal.
I'm not a wilderness survivalist; I can't butcher my own deer. I can't even fix my own car. I accept the need to live, nay, to exist, within society.
But, to actually live, psychically? It's like Jeebus saying "be in the world but not of the world." And, I'm going to drop some more thoughts here in days ahead.
One other thing that stimulated this was reading my 2001-12 journaling Word document, at least most of it from 2006-12. It was "factual" and also an attempt at Branden-brainwashing (there are no Branden-brainwashing concertos) that didn't work because you have to already have psyched yourself out in some way to be able to psych yourself out further.
