‘We watch in reverence’

You know that thing?  That thing that happens when something- a word, a person, a concept- comes into your immediate frame of reference and then seems to be everywhere?

You do.  You know what I’m talking about.

Way back when (it’s only been a few months, but somehow it seems like eons ago) I wrote a little bit of a thing about our selfie culture and what larger meaning and impact that whole mindset is having on us, communally-speaking.  I also wrote something- even longer ago- about our current sorta mayor and his particularly heinous form of self-aggrandizing.  I don’t want to think/talk/write about him right now.

I also noted, much more recently, there are (at least) two great bloggers out there writing about narcissistic personality disorder, who have seen fit to acknowledge my own humble scribblings hereabouts.  As I said, I know little about clinical narcissism, myself.  From a psychological and/or diagnostic perspective, anyway.

But the subject keeps popping up…

Just today, for example, it appeared in my Facebook feed in a HuffPost article.

There’s a double-edged sword to all the potentiality for wonder and discovery in this world of ‘information sharing’ that we have happening.  There are SO many great sites- fiction, non-fiction, poetry, music, essays, opinions… there are myriad variations on endless themes out there.  But, as I’ve also mentioned, the lack of editorial control sometimes means that there is content out there that requires that we look at it quite critically  (certainly with a keener eye than is our general practice) to ensure that the material is coming from more than a troll-ish imagination that seeks attention and cares little for source checking or anything like documented support to ideas and statements.

There are also those sites that are devoted to pure vitriolic hatred- but they are easy enough to spot and avoid.  The pages of those with narcissistic leanings can be a little more insidious (like narcissism itself), since, needing attention, they have learned to disguise their manipulative ways by claiming to be talking about something else.

One such page was brought to my attention recently.  Generally I would have had a look and then dismissed it from my mind never to visit again.  But this page… In addition to the fact that it is poorly written (the grammatical and spelling errors are almost physically painful) the blatant pandering for attention is out of control.  Again, not normally my concern.  Except that such poorly-written blogs can be a little like a train wreck- and it can be hard to stop looking out of sheer amazement and morbid curiousity.  They often remind me of some of the more classic (using the word loosely) assignments I received while I was teaching, and so provide an element of nostalgia alongside the horror.

This one has stuck with me since it seems to be an exemplar of specific narcissistic tendencies- in particular the pathological drive to maintain contact and receive attention (if the ship of positive attention has sailed, then, evidently, negative attention will suffice) from those who have terminated relationships with the narcissist.

It’s such an inexplicable response that I can’t even wrap my head around it.

Ursula, at An Upturned Soul, wrote a post that helped me understand this propensity, at least a little bit.  She also noted that narcissism, as a theme/buzzword, appears to be the newest popular ‘trend’ in pop psychology.  For those who have experienced life with someone with narcissistic personally disorder this must be met with mixed emotions.  Everyone may be jumping on the bandwagon of late, but, as Ursula notes, overexposure and then boredom with the subject (side effects of our limited attention spans) will happen and something new will fill the void of topical psychological diagnoses.

I have had little personal experience (thankfully) with NPD.  But the other day a colleague asked me to define ‘narcissism’, so I inquired about the context of the question.  A mutual friend described the person she is involved with as a narcissist- and, not having even basic internet search skills, she didn’t know where to begin to look to discover what such a designation might entail.  I explained that there is a significant difference between narcissism as a character trait and narcissistic personality disorder as a pathology, though both terms come from the same source (it turned out that the person in question, while something of a ‘vain peacock’ does not, likely, have NPD).

You know I love words- and I’m all about the myths from which some of them originated…

Narcissus was the son of a river god and a nymph.  Something more than human, and, by all accounts, quite something to behold as far as physical beauty is concerned anyway.  He was also a jerk.  He delighted in the effect that he had on those foolish enough to think that a pretty face meant that he might have a heart/soul to match.

The version of the story that most know comes from Ovid’s Metamorphoses.  The mountain nymph, Echo, sees and loves Narcissus, who spurns her advances and leaves her lonely and existing as little more than a remnant of her true self- a hollow reverberation that is the source of our word for the (partial) repetition of a sound or thought.

The goddess in charge of revenge- Nemesis- is unimpressed by this behaviour and causes Narcissus to fall deeply in love with his own reflection- his exterior love mirroring his interior love of himself.  Since this love would forever remain unrequited, Narcissus died alone and in agony that it could never be fully realized or properly addressed.  He pined and wasted away because his self-centredness was so encompassing- both before and after Nemesis played her little trick-  it never allowed for the presence of another person in his life.

Other versions of the story- both contemporary with and earlier than Ovid’s- end even more bleakly, with Narcissus actively killing himself when he realized that no one would ever live up to his self-idealization and replace himself as the centre of his own universe.

The takeaway from all versions of this story is that extreme selfishness/self-involvement/self-love- whether stemming from pathology or personality- is never going to end well.  As one of my blogging buds said a while back (I’m pretty sure it was Beth Byrnes- check out her post that I reblogged earlier today- awesome stuff, always), the historical pendulum- that has seen our societies move from a norm that was community-centric to one that highlights the importance of the individual- has swung too far.

We need a happy medium.  Yes, one must pay attention to the needs of oneself in order to effectively contribute to the addressing of the needs of the many.  Definitely.  No argument at all there.  A little selfish hedonism every once in a while is certainly acceptable and to be encouraged- provided it is done without completely ignoring our responsibilities to those with whom we share the planet.

Our systemic self-interest is directly connected to our lack of historical awareness and engagement with the lessons that have come before- those that are recorded in our collective myths and the events of significance that we can all access, should we be bothered to stop thinking only about ourselves and take the time to actually and actively LEARN something.

I know.  I’m lecturing.

It isn’t all about ‘ME’.  It CAN’T be all about the individual.  Whether we choose to acknowledge it or not, our societal structure is in real danger of crumbling beneath this misperception- that the things we do need benefit us and us alone.  We are encouraged in this belief by our leaders- mainly through the lies rhetoric that speaks about people looking for ‘handouts’ or a ‘free ride’- at the expense of ‘the rest of us’.

Systemic selfishness is NOT an acceptable way of approaching the world.

Back in the Dark Ages (or the 1970’s), a band called Genesis (which then included Mr. Peter Gabriel) recorded and regularly performed an epic song that is both a work of musical genius and employs lyrical imagery that alludes to our shared histories and mythologies over the course of its 23 minutes.  It’s a commentary about- among other things- religion/spirituality, society and personal journeys.

Section IV- entitled ‘How Dare I be So Beautiful?’– references a solitary person, seemingly obsessed by his own image and evokes the story of our friend, Narcissus.  The heroes of the song witness his transmutation into a flower and are, themselves, pulled into their own reflections in the water.

The next section- ‘Willow Farm’– sees them emerge from the water and find themselves in a new reality- where everything moves and changes quickly and everyone seems mindlessly busy.  With each random blast of a whistle, everything changes into something else.  (Keep in mind that this was written in 1972.  Holy prescient view of the technological future in which we now find ourselves, Batman!)

After passing through the Apocalypse (there’s that apocalypticism creeping in- societal discord seems to make that happen), Magog is ultimately defeated by the forces of good.

It’s a powerful piece- made even more so by its employment of the imagery and archetypes that are drawn from our shared mythologies.  Its length (given the shortness of attention spans these days) and the fact that it alludes to all kinds of cool stuff, likely renders it unapproachable- to too many people- these days.  Like so much else of value.

Part of understanding the value of the Humanities is the necessary comprehension that we NEED to look outward- as well as inward- to really manifest our connection with this world of ours.  The fact that narcissism- with all its meanings- is such a topical term of late seems to be profoundly illustrative of the fact that this reality has been neglected- to our extreme and dangerous detriment.

And the fact that our putative leaders encourage and lead us by example into these behaviours?

Sing it, Pete.

So we’ll end with a whistle and end with a bang

And all of us fit in our places

With the guards of Magog swarming around

The Pied Piper takes his children underground

Dragons coming out of the sea

Shimmering silver head of wisdom looking at me

He brings down the fire from the skies

You can tell he’s doing well by the look in human eyes

Better not compromise, it won’t be easy

666 is no longer alone

He’s getting out the marrow in your back bone

And the seven trumpets blowing sweet rock and roll

Gonna blow right down inside your soul

Pythagoras with the looking glass reflects the full moon

In blood, he’s writing the lyrics of a brand new tune

‘Hoping all the verses rhyme’

This interworld can really be an incredible place at times.  Being relatively new to the blogsphere, it still constantly amazes me the many ways in which messages can be spread and different communities can be formed.

The other day I posted a little piece about some shenanigans going on in the world of popular music, and the fact that such shenanigans become the focus of a great deal of discussion, while other, more important, occurrences remain shockingly overshadowed.

I ended the post with some optimism- in the form of my discovery that Ray Davies, storyteller and songsmith, was releasing a new book soon (although not, sadly, soon enough for it to be my cottage book in 2 weeks), reassuring me that there are still vibrant, talented, relevant voices out there.  I let his brother, Dave, sum up my feelings in his own talented manner, and sent the post out into the interworld to illuminate, educate or entertain as it would.

Imagine my surprise when the hits on my little blog started increasing, like, exponentially.  Turned out that the master of a Kinks website included a link to humble ol’ colemining, and wonderful Kinks fans from all over the world have subsequently been kind enough to click and have a look.

Although I am not remotely mathematical (Humanities Ph.D. and proud of it), I do have a certain fascination for statistics and tracing patterns (it must be my sociological training), so watching new countries pop up in the site stats not only excites me in a geekish way, it really brings home just how unifying something as global as music can be.

All these people, first connected through their love of an amazing band, came to check out what I have to say, and from there kept on clicking and visited some of my fellows in the WordPress community whose icons or site names caught their attention.

Kinks fans rock.  Truly.

A big part of my studies of world religions has been focused on the transmission- the communication– of texts.  The stories we tell- about ourselves, our gods, our communities- have been historically subject to a an incredible degree of dissemination.

With the omnipresence of the interworld these days, it’s easy to forget that texts- and letters- have always been wont to travel widely.

We can trace the overlapping similarities in the mythologies of Egypt, Mesopotamia and Israel through the trade routes that expanded their respective audiences and brought elements of significance into the stories and practices of the other cultures they bumped into along the way.

Likewise, early Christian writers took (or sent) their writings to other communities as a means of spreading, discussing and evolving the precepts and practices of their developing beliefs.

That early webmaster, Paul of Tarsus, communicated regularly with the church houses that had been established- in his name- throughout the western Mediterranean region.  Many of the later doctrines of the Christian Church(es) were drawn from these letters- from his interpretations of the character and message of Jesus of Nazareth.

Historically, as a species, we like to hear from other people, to discuss what they think about things, look at how they deal with times of trouble and benefit from wisdom that has a different origin from that which is immediately familiar.

Nowadays, those of us who are fortunate enough to be party to the constant accessibility of online communications can exchange ideas and opinions instantaneously.  And get responses back almost as immediately.

Brave new world indeed.  The interworld at its best.

One of the bloggers that I think is pretty groovy, Opinionated Man, has undertaken an exciting experiment here in the interworld.  He has started something he calls Project O, as a means of creating and furthering dialogue about opinions- where they come from, how they are expressed, and whether they are universal rights (that’s a very brief synopsis- check out the link for the full template and game plan).

My input is currently scheduled to be offered up at 6:00 AM on September 8.  I have no doubt that there will be insightful perspectives, lively debates and windows into the mores and realities of cultures from all around the world.

The Opinionated Man really knows how to strike a chord- and this experiment in communication is right up my alley.  The discussions are already starting- I encourage you to participate if it’s something you’d be into.  Regardless, responding to the template made me stop and think about my opinions- and how they were/are formed.  Can’t wait to see what everyone else has to contribute.

In any case, all this togetherness, connectivity and talking ’bout stuff has put a pretty positive spin on a week that wasn’t all that great in many ways.

It’s the beginning of the last long weekend of summer- which can sometimes be a little melancholy (since it’s one more indication that winter will show up sooner rather than later, and I hate the winter)- and I’ve been locked in my head with some pretty heavy reflection over the past few days weeks.

The positive energy that has come my way is helping to shift my view forward.

I wish you a happy Labour Day weekend with heartfelt thanks to all of you who choose to spend some time following along with my (often somewhat derailed) trains of thought about people and our stories and/or whatever little ditties may be floating around in my brain.

As a special shout out to the oh-so-many of my fellow Kinks peeps who have stopped by today, I leave you tonight with the words and wonder of Ray Davies, and a shared hope that we all find some ‘better things’.

Let’s keep talking folks.  Pretty awesome stuff can happen when we communicate with one another.

Moving On

Every once in a while I take a weekend and unplug completely.  This past week was pretty much the epitome of ‘working for the weekend’ (ah, Loverboy.  Where would we be without that particular concept?) and I honestly couldn’t watch anymore as the grief of the citizens of Lac Mégantic was broadcast across all news outlets while the owner of the train company not only refused to take responsiblity, he sounded like an arrogant sociopath once he finally deigned to comment on the situation.

As of Friday evening at 5pm, I turned off and tuned out for the duration.

Nice to have the break, but I missed a whole whack o’ news- little of it good:

The Zimmerman verdict down there in the States represents yet another violation of anything resembling justice.

A young Canadian actor was found dead in his hotel room from a (likely) drug overdose.

The waste of youth, talent and potential in both cases is tragic- if for different reasons.

Both will prompt all kinds of discussion in the coming days. On Moyers and Company Lauren Feeney and Eric Boehlert discussed the media frenzy around the trial, how the story went from being about the tragic killing of Trayvon Martin to the ‘Zimmerman Show’- and the conservative ‘news’ groups that viewed him as some kind of persecuted innocent (!).

I imagine that greater minds than mine with more knowledge of the American system of (in)justice will try to make some sense of the travesty.  I can do little more than add my dismayed voice, in whatever small way, and shake my head at the ‘one step forward, two back’ social reality evinced by the US over the past month.

I admit that I watched the first season of Glee.  There was an energy to it that was attractive- and the flashback song selections were pretty fun.  Sort of lost the plot as it went on- and as we started to see less of Sue (who was awesome)- but I appreciated the talents of the actors/singers on the show.  In comparison to the endless selection of ‘talent’ competitions, Glee offered some real musical theatre in an entertaining one-hour format, and Finn was at the heart of the whole shebang.

Not being all that tapped into much infotainment, I wasn’t aware that Cory Monteith struggled with addiction.  31 is too young to exit this world- especially for someone of talent and support.  Sad.

All this waited to be discovered when I turned the computer/tv back on this afternoon.

But before I did so… as part of my hiatus, I went for a good long walk yesterday.  It was a glorious weekend- especially after the, um, extreme weather we had last week.  We took the storm- and the clean-up and aftermath- in relative stride.

The Indy was in town- always interesting for the crowds it brings to the downtown core.  And there were the usual festivals, community parties and special events that make Toronto such an awesome place in which to hang out in the summertime.  LOVE this place in the summer.

Anyhoo.  While out for my walk, the Shuffle Daemon was at it again.  This time it seemed to be anticipating the fact that I’d need a reminder that sometimes the bad stuff- even when it’s really really bad- has to be put behind us and we just need to keep on keeping on.

Perhaps the iPod was tapped into the fact that I had just been thinking about story and song, and Papa Nez, because the first song to come up was a country/southern-rock classic:

That song never ceases to put a smile on my face.  The idea of just rolling with things and moving on as the spirit takes you… something that I find so very hard to do.

Then:

Running on Empty.

Same type of message, but Jackson Browne describes one of the key things I try to keep in mind in my life:  “Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive- trying not to confuse it with what you do to survive.”

The frenetic pace that he describes in the song reminds us that we need to both keep moving on and stop every once in awhile and appreciate those things that are most important.

Further good advice from Billy Joel came next:

Working/worrying oneself into heart attack (ack ack ack ack ack)- so not worth it.  It’s all about priorities and perspective.

This one hurt my heart:

Although it was in keeping with the whole keep on moving theme that the Daemon had going, and despite the fact that INXS remains one of my fave bands, the tragic death of Michael Hutchence (also too young) always casts a bit of a cloud over their fantastic songs.

Still, Just Keep Walking, from their first album, when they were (ridiculously) young and hopeful, frequently reminds me to keep my head down and move forward regardless of the difficulties thrown in my path.

U2 always seems to weigh in:

Walk On is about Burmese pro-democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi and the more than 20 years she spent under house arrest as a result of her fight for her country’s freedom.  On a universal level, it talks about leaving behind baggage while taking only what is most important as the fight requires a change in locale or perspective.

And, because the Shuffle Daemon has a sense of humour (and because I have rather strange eclectic taste in music):

Who better than Kermit and Fozzie to demonstrate that moving it along is about adventure and companionship- and those we might chance to meet on the way.

Sometimes you just have to let things go and shift gears/change scenery/take a break from the known and breathe in the new.

These six story songs illustrate the concept wonderfully.  Although we can, and should, get caught up in the dailies and the important issues of the world, sometimes we have to shake it off and go in a different direction.

It is important to be aware of and engaged with the terrible stories that happen with way too much frequency.  Our access to communication requires that we not ignore the injustices and atrocities.  The stories- well-examined and evaluated- must spur us into action to counter the wrongs that we find contained within them.

Sometimes, though, it’s necessary to move on.  Becoming mired in the negative leads to anomie and apathy.  Being bombarded by the bad, it is hard to find the good.

And there is very good to be found.  Our stories continue- regardless of how some might try to silence the inspirational voices among us.

Malala knows- and our songwriting storytellers remind us (through the medium of ‘possessed’ iPods)- that the status quo is always subject to change.

A hopeful note on which to start a new week.

Songs that can change a life #2

I’m thinking that I just must have too much on the go of late (contrary to what some detractors I could name might have to say.  Self-employed does NOT mean UNemployed).

While perusing the drafts of posts that I have started and forgotten about lost my train of thought not yet completed I saw that title up there ^ ^^ and honestly couldn’t for the life of me remember just what that life-changing song (#2) might be.  Didn’t even remember starting the thing to be completely honest.  And certainly didn’t remember searching the YouTube and linking in this:

Methinks the Shuffle Daemon is now controlling me, as well as my iPod.  Haven’t heard that song in AGES.

So, hello Waterboys, how’ve you been?  C’mon in and grab a beer.  It’s been far too long since we spent some quality time together.

This song, their best-known and most commercially successful, was my first exposure to the Waterboys, but it definitely was not to be my last.  I was going through a folk-rock- type music phase at the time and their sound significantly resonated with that period in my life.

The Whole of the Moon is from the 1985 album This is the Sea and I distinctly remember rushing to Sam’s on Yonge Street to pick up the tape almost immediately after hearing the single on CFNY for the first time.  The album got tonnes of playtime on the ol’ Walkman, but The Whole of the Moon got more than the rest.  If I had instead bought the vinyl LP, the grooves would most certainly have been worn more deeply on that particular song.

Musically it is quite spectacular and theatrical- with its antiphonal trumpets, falsetto vocals and a sax solo near the end.  But, as always, it was the lyrics that really drew me in and wouldn’t let me go.  The referencing of legendary creatures and places- ‘every precious dream and vision underneath the stars’– made me want to become a person like the one in the song.

A person who sees not the smaller part of things, but the entirety, and who looks upon that whole with childlike wonder, even when in danger of climbing ‘too high too far too soon‘.  I still aspire to that goal.

The magic referenced in The Whole of the Moon was echoed on the Waterboys’ 1988 album, Fisherman’s Blues,  especially in the musical version of William Butler Yeats’ beautiful poem The Stolen Child.  The track is a combination of their usual dreamy music and Mike Scott’s vocals with the addition of the incredible recitation of the poem by the Irish sean-nós actor, singer, songwriter and poet Tomás Mac Eoin.

The traditionally Irish feel of the music behind the lyrics brings the poem to life in an incredible way.  Yeats is among my favourite poets.  His love and use of the myths of the Irish Twilight, as well as his recounting of the historical events that marked his time, are musical in their very language.

Hearing a native Irish speaker (and singer) recount the story of the human child, stolen from his familiar surroundings in order to dance with the faeries ‘far off by furthest Rosses’ because the ‘world’s more full of weeping than he can understand’ sparked something atavistic in me.

In part because of the cadence of the music in the Waterboys version, I have no trouble at all remembering every line of the beautiful poem.  Even single lines can still cause an incredible shiver to run the length of my spine.

I had read Yeats before hearing the Waterboys’ version, but I admit that I had never read Yeats.  The song- and this poem, followed by the rest of his collected works upon deeper examination- made me feel Yeats and the power of his poetry.  And that depth of feeling led to the discovery of a body of myths that had previously been somewhat outside of my wheelhouse.

I learned Irish so that I could read the traditional- and contemporary- words of the poets of that storied isle in the original language while hearing their music in my head.

The myths and songs of  the Celts speak to the world in so many iterations.  The Whole of the Moon was a catalyst that exposed me to the study and love of its cultural milieu and took me further down my road to discover and appreciate the mythologies of the world.  Life-changing indeed.  Thanks Lads.