Café Philos: an internet café

I've noticed for sometime now a steady stream of traffic to this blog because of a brief post I made back in May on fatherless girls. So, tonight, I was trying to count all the fatherless girls I've known in this town.

I would count a few, think I'd finished, then remembered another one or two. In the end, I simply gave up. It's overwhelming. Not the numbers, but the faces. Overwhelming.

I wonder if we will ever again be a society in which it is unusual to grow up without a father. My own father died when I was two years old. At the small school I attended, I was the only child in my class of about 100 students without a dad at home. What are the numbers today?

When I came to Colorado at midlife, I landed in a coffee shop that was a hang out for an eclectic crowd that included everyone from the mayor of the city to a group of homeless gentlemen. The coffee shop was also two blocks from the city's largest high school, and it attracted very many mildly disaffected youth who enjoyed its eclectic atmosphere as much as I did. Most of the first 200 or so people I met in this town were mildly disaffected kids.

Some of those kids attached themselves to me. When I look back it strikes me that the boys who attached themselves to me usually had fathers. But the girls who did were usually fatherless.

I wonder why most of the boys had fathers, while most of the girls didn't?

Growing up a male myself, I knew the boys at that age are not usually looking for a father figure when they attach themselves to an older man. Instead, they are most likely looking for help in entering the adult world. That is, at that age, they want to work out how to relate to adults who are not their father. I suppose the girls wanted pretty much the same thing.

Yet, I don't know. I don't know why most of the boys who wanted to associate with me had fathers while most of the girls who wanted to associate with me didn't have fathers. Nor do I know whether there was any difference between the boys and the girls in why they wanted to associate with me. Some things seem bound to remain a mystery.

At any rate, my experience of fatherless children -- or more precisely, my experience of fatherless girls -- has convinced me they are especially vulnerable, they are often overlooked, and that we all could do more by them. So, I've decided to make my own small contribution to their cause by blogging from time to time about some of the fatherless girls I've known, what kinds of problems they've faced, how they met those challenges, and what wonderful people they are. I hope you'll be interested.

How old, on average, is a person in the West before they first have sex?

Well, according to Julien O. Teitler, the median age for first sex among people living in Western industrial nations dropped steadily from 1960 to 1995, before stabilizing at around age 17.

(Damn! If I'd only known that sooner, I wouldn't have held out until 50.)

Although the median age for first sex has declined, the median age for marriage has risen in those same countries. Clearly, it is now normative in Western industrialized countries to have sex before marriage. In America, for instance, fully nine out of ten people have sex before marriage.

(Damn! If I'd only known that sooner, I would never have promised my latex love doll a wedding ring after our first night together.)

The problem is our ideals have not kept pace with our actual morals. So many people in the West still act as if it is reasonable to expect kids to hold out until marriage, even when they themselves failed to do it! Instead of merely expecting kids to hold out until marriage -- something only one in ten of them will do -- we should be teaching kids how to deal with premarital sex.

Teaching kids how to deal with premarital sex involves much more than merely teaching them to use a condom. Among other things, it involves teaching them a whole morality, a whole sexual ethics, and even a sexual etiquette.

A few years ago, when I was hanging out with dozens of kids here in town, I was often asked questions about ending relationships. Naturally, if you are going to start having sex years before you get married, you are almost certainly going to face the prospect of ending one or a few relationships. But when and how is it best to break up? Kids need to be taught a practical morality that addresses those issues.

That's only one example. There are many more moral, ethical, and etiquette issues that are not being adequately addressed in part because we still hold to the ideal of waiting for marriage to have sex.

Our failure to adequately address those issues goes beyond idle interest. Morality, ethics, and etiquette are ideally ways in which generations pass down what they've learned of life. When all we pass down are failed ideals, we are relinquishing our responsibility to the next generation to share what real wisdom and learning we have to share.

I once lived with a woman who took sharp offense if my opinion did not agree with hers. Among other things, the experience taught me few domestic arrangements are more disagreeable to me than living with someone who demands agreement.

For me, one of the most fascinating things about the net is how the net makes it easy to meet and know exceptional people.

I am not talking about famous people here.

Frankly, all but a few of the world's most famous people cause me to despair of humanity. Really, is there anything about a Bush, a Putin, or a Musharraf that makes you want to celebrate humanity? Is there anything about a James Dobson, a Britney Spears, or a Bill O'Reilly that makes you want to cheer? Have you ever praised The Cosmic Weirdness for gifting you with a Mahmoud Ahmadinejad? I strongly suspect most of the world's most famous people became famous because they were driven to covet fame, power, or money above all else in their lives. In other words, because they were shallow.

When you turn away from the most famous and instead surf the net for the much less famous, though, you seem to turn away from some of the worse people humanity has to offer and turn towards some of the best it has to offer. That has been the great discovery I've made about the internet -- it allows you to meet and know people who lack fame, but who are genuinely exceptional.

That point tends to pop up in my mind each time I surf blogs. If all I knew of humanity were the world's most famous people, I would become a cynic. I could not believe in humanity. I would despair of it.

Yet, so very many of the people I've met on the net have proven themselves kind, gifted and even wise. That's not to say everyone I've met is those things. Yet, I'd rather take my chances of meeting a very decent person on the net, than take my chances of meeting a very decent person at a White House dinner.

On the net, I have met people who are not famous, but who are world class writers, poets, or photographers. I have met people who are extraordinarily intelligent or exceptionally wise. I have met people who are better informed and more intellectually honest than most of the world's famous pundits. I have met people who I suspect have an unrivaled capacity for kindness. I have even met people who have either the luck or the talent to lead quite interesting lives. In short, I have met dozens of people who should be world famous if that sort of fame was based solely on one's human merit. Largely because of these people, I do not despair of humanity.

So, what effect can meeting so many great, but largely unknown, people have on us? Perhaps I can only speak for myself here, but one effect all of this has on me is to create a longing to become -- not merely a good American, not even merely a good Westerner -- but a good citizen of the world.

This is coming from someone who does not consider himself sentimental about humanity. I know humanity can be ugly. I know we are the least sane of the Great Apes. I am aware we are destroying the only world we have, and I recognize it's a long shot the world will ever come together in a sustainable peace. Yet, I still wish to become a good citizen of the world. It seems to me the sanest course in an insane world. What hope I have for such sanity comes to me in some large part from having met so many wonderful people on the net.

If the world is ever to be a decent place for most of us to live, it won't be because of the Bushes and Cheneys, the Dobsons and Spears, the politicians, pundits and preachers, but because of the common people.

In life, it is far more important to develop your strengths than to compensate for your weaknesses.

Objective reality -- that's any reality one objects to, right?

Formal philosophy is just as much a matter of unlearning the mistakes of the past as it is a matter of creating new mistakes for future generations to unlearn.

I'm aware that it has been a very long while since I have posted here. It makes me feel guilty to see my name at the side of this page, particularly because I haven't even conversed with Paul in quite a while.

I hate being one of those subtly-stressed floundering career women who always blame everything on not having enough time. I know that I waste a lot of time chain-smoking and petting my cat. So it would be lame of me to try and justify my prolonged absence. I do enough of that when I call in sick (three cheers for mental health days!).

Instead I will kiss all of your virtual feet and beg for your quiet forgiveness.

An incredibly brief synopsis: Migraines not yet subsided, life in splinters, cat box perpetually dirty, can't find ANY of the twenty some-odd spoons I know are in this house somewhere.
And that is the extent of my knowledge regarding my latent realization that I haven't been happy in months.

Enough whining.

After reading Paul's frighteningly visceral post, "Changes", I felt compelled to share a little secret of mine that makes seasons more bearable and beautiful, even if one hates all four of them.

A long time ago I decided to rename the seasons to suit what they actually DO to me. It's obvious that changes in weather aren't gentle in their violent rearrangement of my outlook and substance. In fact, it may have nothing at all to do with the weather, but rather, my life may follow some twisted cycle of phases that lines up perfectly with Mother Nature's, and it's all pure coincidence.

(Thanks go out to my grade twelve sociology teacher for drilling it into my brain that "correlation is not causation", and forcing me to remove all natural assumption from my daily thought process.)

I don't suggest that anyone adopt the same labels for seasons that I have, as they're likely influenced by my own experience, and the fact that I live in Canada. However, I think 'renaming' the seasons to accommodate one's feelings toward them can promote self-awareness. Because really, who actually knows what the heck "summer" means anyway.

These are mine, respectively:

Boring, Rainy, Miserable Days

Arid, Thoughtless Days crammed full of Denial

Sleepy Days when everything smells Pleasantly Dead

Desperate, Freshly Frozen Days

Also, my personal blog, Lipstick Without Borders, has been flagged for objectionable content. *VICTORY DANCE*
Cheers to my no longer being viewed as the Milk and Cookies of the online literary world.

The wind sounds so beautiful this morning. Now and then, it brings a burst of rain. With the windows open, I can smell the rain and feel the chill of Fall.

I know I shall refuse to close those windows until at last it becomes too cold this year to leave them open. I don't want to miss the change in the seasons -- not even when I'm inside. Not even for a moment.

I wonder this morning why that's so. What is it about the change in seasons that I love it so much? It's more to me than just the novelty of a new season.

Sometimes I think it's the absolute proof of nature's power I love so much. Inexorable, nature puts me in my place. Only our egos, it seems, want us to be the biggest thing in the world. Something else, something much deeper than ego, wants only to have its proper place in this world. Perhaps it's only when we have found that place that we can connect to the world -- authentically.

Does God have a pompadour like so many of his preachers?

I once read an estimate that there have been over 100,000 religions come and gone since the caves of France and Spain were painted during the Upper Paleolithic. The religious impulse seems to be a constant of human nature, albeit it has taken many forms over the ages. I do not expect religion itself to die out – ever. But new religions will replace old ones.

Thirty years ago, I took a course called "Images of Man" in which we studied and discussed some seven different models of human nature. That was a very exciting time of life when I was discovering all sorts of grand ideas.

I was discovering ideas that I had until then only heard rumors about -- such as what time was to a physicist, what the subconscious was to a psychologist, or what culture was to an anthropologist. It had not occurred to me before taking the "Images of Man" course that our notions of human nature were human inventions. Indeed, when I look back on my growing up, I am astounded at how many very obvious things I had to learn.

Naturally, there was a woman involved.

No one at 19 should be forced to learn about time, the subconscious, culture, or any of a hundred other grand ideas without being in love. That would just be cruel. Worse, it could lead one to become a neoconservative.

Until I fell in love with a woman in my "Images of Man" class, I was very confused about love -- I really didn't know the difference between simply loving and possessively yearning. So, to me, love was heartbreak, a miserable state, something to be avoided, and when impossible to avoid, to be cursed. Then, of course, I met Alison and discovered the extraordinary affirmation of life that naturally comes from loving without expectation of any reward.

One of the models of human nature we studied that term introduced me to the concept of enlightenment. Have you ever considered how close enlightenment is to love? I don't think I really grasped much of the concept of enlightenment from that one class, but I would have grasped far less of it had I not been in love.

When compared to the torturous confusion of mere yearning, love is simple, clear, non-possessive, and straight-forward. When compared to the torturous confusion of non-enlightenment, enlightenment is simple, clear, non-possessive, and straight-forward. Perhaps the two are even inextricably entwined.

It even seems to me now, thirty years later, that I learned more about certain aspects of human nature from loving Alison than I did from studying the various models of human nature presented in the class.

There is no such thing as a Bimbo Talk Show Host who is paid less than his or her opinions are worth.

Earlier this week, during a half-hour lunch break, I added an entry to a forum of people who attended my high-school.
It was one of those private, all-girls, Catholic high-schools. Quite pretentious. I dropped out in grade eleven and finished on my own, anyway. But I was invited to join the St. Thomas Aquinas C.P.S.S. forum and write a short summary of what I had been doing since last attending our school.

I tried my best to tame it down, I really did. I left out a lot of stuff.
I didn't even make reference to any large rental mistakes, or shady jobs in bad cities.

The site subscribes to an advertising element, which is designed to pull key subjects out of content, and display relevant ads.

Beside my virtual reunion speech, once posted, was an ad for the Liver Disease Clinic of Manitoba.

I have never lived or spent time in Manitoba, for the record.

Is it paranoid of me to feel odd about the advertising servers blunt statement about my life since grade eleven?

If you had to choose between writing something thought provoking and writing something profound, which would you choose?

I'm tempted to say that anything which is profound is thought provoking. But saying that breaks the rule because we have been asked to pretend the two can be separated and do not overlap.

Well, then, I know when I was much younger I would have chosen to write something profound. Among other things, it can be good mental discipline to try to write something that's profound. You end up questioning every one of your assumptions in an effort to dig deeper and deeper into the subject. You become like a child who asks, "Why?", "But why?", in response to every answer you come up with.

All that digging might not make you an entirely profound person -- you can still be someone with surprisingly shallow feelings, tastes and inclinations -- but it certainly helps to make whatever you write profound. I know that's true, because I married my first wife solely for her looks the very same year I was routinely getting compliments back from my professors along the lines of, "This is among the most profound papers -- published or unpublished -- I have ever read on the Bhagavad Gita. I realize in the cosmic scheme of things that does not matter. But in a warm, earthly way, I just wanted you to know."

That professor was right, of course. In the cosmic scheme of things, the reward -- in this case, the pride -- we might take in writing something profound does not matter, except perhaps in so far as that reward or pride becomes a burden and a hindrance. Instead, what we do, we should do true to ourselves. And what is true to ourselves can change.

Sometime in my 40's -- most likely in my late 40's -- I began feeling a need to give back to my community something in gratitude for all the good things my community had given me.

Such a feeling is sometimes confused for selflessness, but it is not selfless. I fully wanted to use my own unique talents and skills -- that is, to use my self -- to give back to my community. Nor had I any desire to give back to my community in a way that was not true to myself. I suppose that around the same time in my life, my answer changed to the question, "If you had to choose between writing something that was thought provoking, and writing something that was profound, which would you choose?"

Today, I would choose thought provoking. But I think for you to understand why, you must recall the silly rule we began with: Namely, that we should pretend a writing cannot be both profound and thought provoking at the same time, and that therefore we must choose one or the other. If you go by that rule, then it's reasonable to ask, "Which is better for people?" The way I see it, it's better for people to read something that provokes them to think, than it is for them to read something that is merely profound.

For one thing, it is more fun to think about something than it is to deeply understand something. Thinking is like traveling: The joy lies in the unexpected discovery. While understanding something is like staying home. The happiness is more akin to comfort than joy. Only homebodies would give up thinking about new things for deeply knowing something.

For another thing, thinking keeps the mind fresh and alert. It's good exercise for the brain and prevents its deterioration. But I've seen even quite profound people deteriorate rapidly in their mental capabilities when they stopped seeing things in new and interesting ways.

Last, when thinking becomes a habit, the politicians, preachers, pundits, and advertisers are much less able to manipulate us to suit their own agendas. So, there too, you are giving something back to your community when you provoke people to think.

There you have it. My answer to the absolutely most pressing question of our time. When I was younger, I would have easily chosen "profound". That was being true to myself yesterday. But today, things have changed -- I've changed. And I feel I could best be true to myself by writing something thought provoking.

Yet, how would you answer the question?

"If you had to choose between either writing something thought provoking or writing something profound, which would you choose?"

"Love possesses not nor would it be possessed."

- Khalil Gibran


There are many kinds of love, but I think the rarest and purest kind is anything but possessive. It is that love which is most liberating, which is most life affirming, and in which we both transcend ourselves and are renewed.

That is the kind of love the Greeks called "agape" and that Jesus apparently believed caused us to be "born again".

Such love most often comes as an unexpected breeze -- and like a breeze it refreshes. Like a breeze, it seldom lasts for long. And like a breeze, it may return at any time.

I think if there is one book in the world which has been overestimated as wisdom literature, that's the bible.

Call me cynical if you must, but the thing that most amazes me about the 123 Agreement between India and the US is the normally incompetent Bush administration helped arrange something that will benefit both the US economy and the Indian economy -- and very possibly the environment of both nations, too. It's almost as if they had a moment of lucid good sense. Whoever dropped Prozac into the Administration's water supply is to be applauded. But what do you think of the deal?

Have you ever asked yourself, if this or that god were my neighbor, what kind of person would he be? Would you want someone with his personality living next to you? Or, if having called the police on him numerous times to no avail, would you contact your real estate agent, sell your home, and move to a better neighborhood?

It should be no news to us that gods have personalities. Gods, after all, are created by people, and in the image of those who created them. Since people have personalities, so do their gods.

Now, you just know that whoever created Kuan Yin, the Chinese Goddess of Compassion, was a good neighbor. And Kuan Yin herself would make a good neighbor. But that's certainly not true of all gods. The Greek god, Dionysus, would make a good neighbor only if you were young enough that you didn't need much sleep and you liked to party on the wild side.

I confess I do not think the Judeo-Christian god of the Bible's Old Testament, YHWH, would make a very good neighbor. I think YHWH is created in the image of an abusive, woman hating man. That thought has led me on numerous occasions to speculate to myself that the reason he claims to be the only god is because he wishes to hide from us, and all the other gods, the fact his mother, the Goddess, abandoned him in the desert because he was such a brat to her. Ever since he was abandoned by his own mother, he has hated women and desired to oppress them. Thus, there is no mention in the Old Testament of who he married. She's been kept out of sight and possibly barefoot. What kind of neighbor won't even allow his wife outside to hang the laundry up to dry?

Whether I am right or wrong about YHWH, it is indeed true that some gods would not make good neighbors. You have to wonder what kind of personalities their creators had? As Krishnamurti said, "A petty mind cannot conceive of anything other than a petty god."

I can't recall if I've mentioned this before, but I prefer to think of humans as like snowflakes. All snowflakes are made of the same thing -- water. But each snowflake is shaped differently, so that no two flakes are precisely alike. In the same way, isn't it true enough that all humans share in a common human nature, but that no two of us manifest that nature in exactly the same way?

We all share something in common, and yet we are all unique. And therefore, I have often thought that many political ideologies misrepresent us, because they either over-emphasize our commonality, or they over-emphasize our individuality. They either pretend there are no significant differences between people -- and we can all be treated as interchangeable cogs in a social machine -- or they pretend there are no significant commonalities between people -- and we must be treated as rugged individualists who can at best barely tolerate living in a community. Where in either extreme is there realism?

That humans are unique individuals sharing in a common nature is not a paradox to me but merely a summary description of what seems most obvious about us.