Tag Archives: writing

To learn or not to learn

Anything important that you learn leads to new things to learn, for those excited about learning.   We are constantly building on the lessons in our life, if we are inclined that way.  It is possible to be quite content with what one knows, rest on our present level of expertise and become incurious, but for me, life is about  getting better and better at life itself.

Things that hurt us, things we do that hurt others we care about, remind us of work we still need to do, things we need to learn.  If I am constantly wounded by the same thing, I can learn to move my head out of the way instead of leaning in to that particular punch in the face.  I can learn to be kinder, more patient with people, know when it is important to withdraw, give others space.   In my life I’ve come to understand that if we give others power over us and they misuse it more than once, there is an important lesson in that.

There are some challenging things that can be impossible to do without intelligent feedback from others.  We simply can’t see the bigger picture sometimes.  A guy in obvious turmoil, a stranger, asked if he could talk to me.  He told me the story of how his wife left him after he fell off the wagon, his life was so painful that he reached out to a stranger, as his AA sponsor had advised him to do, instead of getting drunk, as was his long habit in painful situations.  As a stranger hearing the story an obvious thing hit me as soon as he told me that his wife was also in Alcoholics Anonymous.   His alcohol binge was a direct threat to her sobriety so she packed a bag and moved out.

He was shocked at my brilliant insight.  I told him it was as obvious as the nose on his face, though we also both agreed that in a dark room, even with a mirror, you literally can’t see the nose on your face, even though you’re breathing through it, can touch it, etc.

We are all in a metaphorical dark room sometimes, unable to see what is instantly clear once a light is turned on.  How do we turn on the light?   Often the darkness is illuminated by someone else, someone who has lived through something similar, someone who just knows how to listen, someone merely stating the obvious.  Obvious as it may also be, sometimes someone simply saying it out loud to us is enough to turn on a light in the blackness, once we hear it.

Our lives are shaped by our perceptions.  Reality itself is only our perception of reality.  Our perception is formed by the stories we believe, stories give us the lens to see everything else through.  Some stories are helpful and can teach us important things we need to know to live richer lives.  Other stories are harmful, confirm our worst suspicions, fuel our fear and anger and teach us only to repeat our past mistakes over and over and justify them better and better to ourselves. 

I suppose wisdom comes from learning to embrace the true sounding stories that give us more health, more peace, more ability to understand others.  The other kind of stories, bad news, bad karma, and more of the same incomprehensibly fucked up shit.

The need for validation vs. the need for good feedback

People with an insecure sense of self are outer-directed, they live their lives for the validation of the people around them. Since they felt belittled and neglected when they were too young to do anything but suffer, they take pains to look physically perfect, according to the fashion of the day, they seek praise, status, social position, awards from their peers. All these are part of a lifelong attempt to make themselves feel better, more valuable and worthier of love, than others. They live in a hierarchical world where some people are simply much more important than others, by virtue of working to earn their self-worth in an objectively quantifiable way.

They live in a win/lose competitive world where winners win and are admired by those around them for having the will and talent not to be losers. As far as I can see, that world is the destructive illusion of superficial idiots, but I have always been super-opinionated about things like the justness of rigid social hierarchies and those who conform to social systems without any real questions about their validity. I keep thinking of the billions of people this worldview consigns to inferior, permanent, inter-generational loser status simply as the way things are.

I have always felt a need for the useful feedback I almost never got as a child. What is different about my need for a response and the need for outer validation I’ve sketched above? In both cases we are looking for assurances about the good effect our words and actions have on others. Everyone likes a sincere compliment, it’s always gratifying to be spoken well of by others. In the case of validation-seeking, the thing sought is praise and admiration. That is different, to my mind, than seeking an intelligent critique of your work, sometimes your deeds.

A person writes to convey thoughts, ideas and feelings to others. Writing is an extension of the desire to have a good, mutual conversation, one of the great pleasures of being human, as far as I can see. There is really no better way to gauge how well a piece of writing achieves the goals you intend than by getting good notes from a reader. This feedback allows us to understand what is still unclear to others in our work, or objectionable, or feeble, or unconvincing, and to address ambiguity, sloppiness, or assuming the comprehensibility of complex things we have not sufficiently laid out the context for understanding. With those comments in mind we can fix those things and come closer to our aim. Comments we can mull over keep the conversation moving forward, which is integral to why we communicate in the first place. Silence by way of response is a real conversation stopper, to state the obvious.

Validation-seeking people tend to stay very busy, they are socially active, work hard, program their leisure time down to the minute, consult the clock for when it’s time to end the party and get eight hours of sleep to be up and at ’em full force the next morning. Their every waking effort goes toward earning the self-acceptance and self-admiration they can’t feel except as reflected back to them by others. Sitting quietly by themselves, unless they are exercising their abdominal muscles, burning calories or something useful like that, is unthinkably difficult for them. It is as if they literally can’t see themselves unless they are engaged with others who appreciate them.

Of course, I probably only feel this way because I’ve always spent most of my hours alone. One could make a decent argument that I like nothing better than the company of my own constantly rippling thoughts and ideas. I learned early to soothe myself this way when I felt ignored – learning to play music, drawing, writing, cooking. I am always happy to spend time with other people, or talk to them at length – and I need these contacts as much as anyone does, maybe more – but I also accept myself the way I am and have as much compassion for myself as I do toward anyone else I care about.

Am I a great guitar player or any kind of virtuoso? No, but I am the greatest guitar player I can be at the moment. It means a great deal to me to play every note as cleanly, purposefully and soulfully as I can, to learn new ways to play the same melody, new positions on the neck for chords and little tricks, to become a more fluent improviser. Most people don’t think of any of these things, like the many different ways to play the same note, which I think is a shame.

To those who focus almost entirely on what the outer world says about us, you are either a professional musician getting paid and recognized for your work or an amateur with a slightly obsessive hobby which is nice, but a bit vain, because what does it really say about a person if they waste hours a day playing Beatles tunes?

It would be marginally better to the validation-focused, perhaps, to play sophisticated, challenging jazz tunes, or the best of classical guitar, if they would even notice that difference in material. They’re often not even able to hear any of it very clearly because it is just – they don’t even know what the hell compels someone to do it. Beatles, jazz standards or classical — best, to me, is playing what you love best and can make sound the most beautiful, but, fuck, enough about me.

Political pundits often suck ass

I sent this email to a friend just now, in response to a couple of political opinion pieces he’d sent me.

These are all good points that you raise. The US has the lowest rate of social mobility, people born in poverty becoming middle-class, of any wealthy country.  Privilege is perpetuated by law (as you say, they killed the Death Tax) and elite institutions, like Harvard, that are not available to any but the top recipients of an excellent education (and funds for public education are constantly being hijacked by Christians and others to pay for their private schools), or those whose families have a connection or are generous donors.  (Example, Jared Kushner, C yeshiva student, Harvard alum after felon dad Charles gives the school a few million shekels)

There are a lot of factors about why things are so fucked up and so demonically divided right now. Of course Fox is a huge and horrible one, for the reasons you describe.  It’s really grotesque how much influence one ninety year-old billionaire reptile can have on the media for the entire world.  Neither of these big picture articles about our current crisis (Mother Jones or Stephens) even so much as mentioned one of the scariest elephants in the partisan divided room:  the many-headed nightmare emanating from climate change, global warming, increasing deadly storms, sea level and ocean temperatures rising and ocean ecosystems desalinating as ice caps melt, drought, floods, wildfires and famine and eventually no food or living space for tens of millions, and then billions, displaced by rising sea levels and unlivable heat and turned into roving hordes of hungry on-the-move cannibals, and a final world war caused by scarcity of things like now monetized water.  Talk about a refugee crisis, they’ll probably decide to nuke these ravenous cannibal migrants. Talk about elites.

My problem with Bret Stephens is really the same problem I have with Mother Jones. They are pushing a thesis, motivated by an ideological position, so Stephens talks about these corrupt, cancelling, illiberal  radical left elites out of touch with the person who’s lost his job in middle America, completely disconnected from the millions of deaths of despair, and the murders, and the hopeless lives of millions of abused Americans, but he is also one of the same corrupt , out of touch elites, being a respected opinion writer for the New York Times.  Both he and the Mother Jones writer resort to simplified arguments that leave out nuance and tremendously important details to advance the particular case they are making.

The Mother Jones guy dismissed the idea of any kind of conspiracy at play in the crisis that our country has come to, pointing out, irrelevantly but at length, that belief in conspiracy theories is about the same as it’s always been, even if the wife of history’s most corrupt Supreme Court justice is a far right Christian political operative, on the board of the influential, secret nonprofit Council for National Policy, who brokered the deal between Donald Trump and the evangelical leaders in 2016, was in and out of the West Wing regularly during 45’s administration (and heads would always roll when she left) and also was in a religious frenzy in the Jesus-invoking texts to the Chief of Staff as Trump’s January 6 coup was sputtering, in the hours and days after she attended the Big Guy’s rousing speech in the freezing cold earlier that day.    Then all White House phone logs, texts, secret service texts and calls, irretrievably deleted, all Homeland Security heads’ communications also gone, from the hours before, during and after the riot at the Capitol for which hundreds are being, eh, vengefully held hostage.  There are complex right wing conspiracies at work all around us (for example, the association of Republican state attorneys’ general that met to work out how to limit drop boxes and things like that prior to the 2020 election, are probably meeting right now, the fake electors, election deniers overseeing upcoming elections, continual destruction of evidence, lies about the existence of evidence never produced, etc). and it doesn’t take Oliver Stone to tell you that.

Stephens does something similar when he focuses on the corrupt idiot asshole privileged  heads of elite institutions (accurate enough)  and uses them to prove his larger points that misguided, hypocritical, often tyrannical liberals suck and only sober conservatives like him see the world as it actually is and are prepared to lead it (debatable, like all political positions).  

The worst one in this category, for my money, is fucking David Brooks, who also writes for the New York Times.  I avoid his stuff the last few years, too aggravating to read that know-it-all’s confident conclusions about his opinions.   The insidious thing about Brooks is that he can make very reasonable points while he hides his ideological agenda most of the time but then sometimes it just pops out in a grotesque, tell-tale aside, like nonchalantly dropping in a gutter formulation of what’s wrong with poor people in terms of their moral character.

Anyway, it’s occasionally interesting to read some of this stuff, but I don’t put any more stock in the opinions of these folks that I do in my own reading, thinking and talking to people whose opinions I respect. Political commentators are in the business of simplifying things, convincing readers of their astuteness and expertise, and making difficult, complicated, scary things seem to make sense, but the version of reality they give you is always missing essential ingredients that you need to have a nuanced, really intelligent conversation about the subject. That’s just one reason I resent these fucking pantloads. 

You might be a writer

It could be that the reason you write every day, the reason you need to write and edit what you write every single day, is because you are actually a writer. This is a quirk of personality in some people, they need to clearly set things out in front of themselves, set them in front of other people once in a while.  Not everyone feels this need, you know.  You might really be a writer if you can’t stop, if you have to write every goddamned day.

On the other hand, you might just be a narcissistic jackass who thinks the same kind of things that everybody sometimes wrestles with in their lives, thinking these common thoughts are particularly interesting in your own case. Something that strikes you as an insight makes you feel a sudden need to put into words and share because doing this makes you feel focused and important for a moment, this fleeting thrill of self-revelation.

There are plenty of other hands, too. You might’ve really stumbled on something truly interesting. You might actually be an introspective, receptive person who thinks interesting thoughts, expresses them in a personal way that other people might actually be interested in, but who the fuck knows?  Unless, of course, you get paid for your words, in which case, there is no doubt.

If I were writing a book, and that’s not to say that I’m not, I would be steadily assembling all these pieces of a perplexing puzzle, a puzzle that vexes me, anyway, and struggling to tell the story in a way that might shed some light on somebody else’s similar struggle. How many asshole parents have left their adult children with partial puzzles, most of the pieces missing, set them into a dark, cold room and said, often from the grave “I always told you you were a clueless piece of shit.” 

Personally, I have no idea how many people need to write every day, there are no doubt statistics that can be pulled out of the collective anus, but that is a story for another day, and one that wearieth me too much at the moment to wrestle with and render in feeble, tottering words.

Until tomorrow, my friend, I salute you.