Complete Works

Eskişehir, Türkiye

Friday 22 March 2024

“Advice is like snow.

The softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon and the deeper it sinks into the mind.”

(“Confessions of an Inquirer“, Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

Perhaps Allah is reading my blogposts?

I mentioned abandoning my winter coat for sweaters of spring, but this morning has proven this decision to be premature.

It snowed last night.

Yes, gentle readers familar only with the Republic’s Mediterranean beaches, Türkiye does get snow.

The silence of snow reminiscient of the start of a poem, slowly as a dream from a long-desired long-awaited reverie, clensed by memories of innocence and childhood, we succumb to optimism and dare to believe ourselves at home in this world.

As each snowflake is a masterpiece of God, so is each and every human being upon whom the snowflake falls, proof of the manifestation of love in all of Creation.

The pale cold ground with its sombre blanket of white brings to mind the diary entry of Gerard Manley Hopkins, 22 March 1870:

“I asked the Brentford boys about a ghost story they had told me before that.

At Norris’ market gardens by Sion Lane, there is a place where according to tradition two men were ploughing with four horses.

In bringing the plough round at the headland they fell into a covered well which they did not see and were killed.

And now if you lean your ear against a wall at the place you can hear the horses going and the men singing at their work.

There are other ghosts belonging to Sion House, for example, there is an image of our Lady in a stained glass window which every year is broken by an unseen hand and invisibly mended.“

Above: Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844 – 1899)

During the night, the first evening of spring, winter descended.

A reminder that as new lives are being born so too are other lives ending.

“The morning after Goethe’s death, a deep desire seized me to look once again upon his earthly garment.

His faithful servant, Frederick, opened for me the chamber in which he was laid out.

Stretched upon his back, he reposed as if asleep, profound peace and security reigned in the features of his sublimely noble countenance.

The mighty brow seemed yet to harbour thoughts.

I wished for a lock of his hair, but reverence prevented me from cutting it off.

The body lay naked, only wrapped in a white sheet.

Large pieces of ice had been placed near it, to keep it fresh as long as possible.

Frederick drew aside the sheet.

I was astonished at the divine magnificence of the limbs.

The breast was powerful, broad and arched.

The arms and thighs were elegant and of the most perfect shape.

Nowhere on the whole body was there a trace of either fat or of leanness and decay.

A perfect man lay in great beauty before me and the rapture the sight caused me made me forget for a moment that the immortal spirit had left such an abode.

I laid my hand on his heart.

There was a deep silence.

I turned away to give free vent to my suppressed tears.”

(“Conversations with Goethe“, Johann Peter Eckermann)

Above: Johann Peter Eckermann (1792 – 1854)

Eckermann (1792 – 1854) played a similar role in the life and memory of the great German literary polymath Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749 – 1832) as James Boswell (1740 – 1795) had done for Samuel Johnson (1709 – 1784).

Eckermann’s awestruck description of the poet’s fine bodily form evince a deep reverance for the man.

Eckermann published his recollections in “Conversations with Goethe” in 1836, four years after the death of the writer on 22 March 1832 in Weimar.

Goethe died of apparent heart failure.

Not that Goethe needed posthumous reclamation.

By the end of his life, having published over 90 books – poetry, plays (including his dramatic masterpiece “Faust“), novels, children’s stories, philosophical and scientific works – as well as many of his letters, Goethe was an international celebrity.

In the German theatre, via the lessons of Shakespeare, Goethe liberated drama from neoclassical strictures.

And in his epistolary bestseller “The Sorrows of Young Werther” (1774), Goethe unleased on the world a version of the Romantic persona in the novella’s eponymous hero:

A sensitive, unrequited and ultimately suicidal lover.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (28 August 1749 – 22 March 1832) was a German polymath and writer, who is widely regarded as the greatest and most influential writer in the German language.

His work has had a profound and wide-ranging influence on Western literary, political and philosophical thought from the late 18th century to the present day. 

Goethe was a German poet, playwright, novelist, scientist, statesman, theatre director and critic. 

His works include plays, poetry, literature and aesthetic criticism, as well as treatises on botany, anatomy and colour.

Goethe had a great effect on the 19th century.

In many respects, he was the originator of many ideas which later became widespread.

He produced volumes of poetry, essays, criticism, a theory of colours and early work on evolution and linguistics.

His non-fiction writings, most of which are philosophic and aphoristic in nature, spurred the development of many thinkers.

Above: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 1828

He was fascinated by mineralogy.

The mineral goethite (iron oxide) is named after him.

He had the largest private collection of minerals in all of Europe.

By the time of his death, in order to gain a comprehensive view in geology, he had collected 17,800 rock samples.

Goethe embodied many of the contending strands in art over the next century:

His work could be lushly emotional and rigorously formal, brief and epigrammatic, and epic. 

He penned poetry rich in memorable images and rewrote the formal rules of German poetry.

Goethe’s influence was dramatic because he understood that there was a transition in European sensibilities, an increasing focus on sense, the indescribable, and the emotional.

This is not to say that he was emotionalistic or excessive.

On the contrary, he lauded personal restraint and felt that excess was a disease:

“There is nothing worse than imagination without taste.”

He said in Scientific Studies:

“We conceive of the individual animal as a small world, existing for its own sake, by its own means.

Every creature is its own reason to be.

All its parts have a direct effect on one another, a relationship to one another, thereby constantly renewing the circle of life; thus we are justified in considering every animal physiologically perfect.

Viewed from within, no part of the animal is a useless or arbitrary product of the formative impulse (as so often thought).

Externally, some parts may seem useless because the inner coherence of the animal nature has given them this form without regard to outer circumstance.

Thus the question is not “What are they for?” but rather “Where do they come from?”

Goethe exhibited a repugnance towards the mathematical interpretation of nature.

He perceived the universe as dynamic and in constant flux.

He saw “art and science as compatible disciplines linked by common imaginative processes” and grasped “the unconscious impulses underlying mental creation in all forms.”

His views make him, a figure in two worlds:

On the one hand, devoted to the sense of taste, order, and finely crafted detail, which is the hallmark of the artistic sense.

On the other, seeking a personal, intuitive, and personalized form of expression and society, firmly supporting the idea of self-regulating and organic systems.

Many of Goethe’s works depict erotic passions and acts.

Goethe clearly saw human sexuality as a topic worthy of poetic and artistic depiction, an idea that was uncommon in a time when the private nature of sexuality was rigorously normative.

Goethe was a freethinker who believed that one could be inwardly Christian without following any of the Christian churches, many of whose central teachings he firmly opposed, sharply distinguishing between Christ and the tenets of Christian theology, and criticizing its history as a “hodgepodge of mistakes and violence“.

Goethe showed interest in other religions, including Islam.

Politically, Goethe described himself as a “moderate liberal“.

At the time of the French Revolution, he thought the enthusiasm of the students and professors to be a perversion of their energy and remained skeptical of the ability of the masses to govern.

Although often requested to write poems arousing nationalist passions, Goethe would always decline.

In old age, he explained why this was so to Eckermann:

“How could I write songs of hatred when I felt no hate?

And, between ourselves, I never hated the French, although I thanked God when we were rid of them.

How could I, to whom the only significant things are civilization and barbarism, hate a nation which is among the most cultivated in the world, and to which I owe a great part of my own culture?

In any case this business of hatred between nations is a curious thing.

You will always find it more powerful and barbarous on the lowest levels of civilization.

But there exists a level at which it wholly disappears, and where one stands, so to speak, above the nations, and feels the weal or woe of a neighboring people as though it were one’s own.”

Above: Goethe, 1775

Goethe studied law at Leipzig University from 1765 to 1768.

He detested learning age-old judicial rules by heart, preferring instead to attend the lessons of the university professor and poet Christian Fürchtegott Gellert (1715 – 1769).

In Leipzig, Goethe fell in love with Anna Katharina Schönkopf (1746 – 1810), the daughter of a craftsman and innkeeper, writing cheerful verses about her.

In 1770, he released anonymously his first collection of poems, “Annette“.

His uncritical admiration for many contemporary poets evaporated as he developed an interest in Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729 – 1781) and Christoph Martin Wieland (1733 – 1813).

By this time, Goethe had already written a great deal, but he discarded nearly all of these works except for the comedy “Die Mitschuldigen“.

The inn Auerbachs Keller (the 2nd oldest restaurant in Leipzig) and its legend of Johann Georg Faust (1466 – 1541) and his 1525 barrel ride impressed him so much that Auerbachs Keller became the only real place in his closet drama “Faust, Part One“.

Given that he was making little progress in his formal studies, Goethe was forced to return to Frankfurt at the end of August 1768.

Back in Frankfurt, Goethe became severely ill.

During the year and a half that followed, marked by several relapses, relations with his father worsened.

During convalescence, Goethe was nursed by his mother and sister.

Above: Goethe’s birthplace, Großer Hirschgraben, Frankfurt am Main, Germany

In April 1770, Goethe left Frankfurt in order to finish his studies, this time at the University of Strasbourg.

In Alsace, Goethe blossomed.

No other landscape was to be described by him as affectionately as the warm, wide Rhineland.

In Strasbourg, Goethe met Johann Gottfried Herder (1744 – 1803).

The two became close friends, and crucially to Goethe’s intellectual development, Herder kindled his interest in William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616), Ossian (the narrator and purported author of a cycle of epıc poems published by James Macpherson (1736 – 1796), the Scottish poet) and in the notion of Volkspoesie (folk poetry).

Above: Notre Dame Cathedral, Strasbourg, Alsace, France

On 14 October 1772 Goethe hosted a gathering in his parents home in honour of the first German “Shakespeare Day“.

His first acquaintance with Shakespeare’s works is described as his personal awakening in the field of literature.

Above: William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)

On a trip to the village of Sessenheim in October 1770, Goethe fell in love with Friederike Brion (1752 – 1813), but the tryst ended in August 1771. 

Above: Town Hall, Sessenheim, Alsace, France

Several of Goethe’s poems, like “Willkommen und Abschied“, “Sesenheimer Lieder” and “Heidenröslein“, date to this period.

At the end of August 1771, Goethe acquired his law degree and was able to establish a small legal practice in Frankfurt.

Although in his academic work he had given voice to an ambition to make jurisprudence progressively more humane, his inexperience led him to proceed too vigorously in his first cases, for which he was reprimanded and lost further clientele.

Within a few months, this put an early end to his law career.

Above: Frankfurt am Main skylıne

Around this time, Goethe became acquainted with the court of Darmstadt, where his inventiveness was praised.

It was from that world that there came Johann Georg Schlosser (who later became Goethe’s brother-in-law) and Johann Heinrich Merck (1741 – 1791).

Goethe also pursued literary plans again.

This time, his father did not object, and even helped.

Above: Darmstadt, Germany

Goethe obtained a copy of the biography of a noble highwayman from the German Peasants’ War (1524 – 1525).

In a couple of weeks the biography was reworked into a colourful drama titled “Götz von Berlichingen“.

The work struck a chord among Goethe’s contemporaries.

Representation of Götz with his famous quote: “But he, tell him, he can lick my arse” from Goethe’s play, Weisenheim am Sand, Germany

Since Goethe could not subsist on his income as one of the editors of a literary periodical (published by Schlosser and Merck), in May 1772 he once more took up the practice of law, this time at Wetzlar.

In 1774 he wrote the book which would bring him worldwide fame, “The Sorrows of Young Werther“.

The broad shape of the work’s plot is largely based on what Goethe experienced during his time at Wetzlar with Charlotte Buff (1753 – 1828) and her fiancé, Johann Christian Kestner (1741 – 1800), as well as the suicide of Goethe’s friend Karl Wilhelm Jerusalem (1747 – 1772).

In the latter case, Goethe made a desperate passion of what was in reality a hearty and relaxed friendship. 

Despite the immense success of Werther, it did not bring Goethe much financial gain since the protection later afforded by copyright laws at that time virtually did not exist.

(In later years Goethe would counter this problem by periodically authorizing “new, revised” editions of his Complete Works.)

Above: Wetzlar, Germany

Goethe took up residence in Weimar (where he would remain the rest of his life) in November 1775 following the success of his first novel, “The Sorrows of Young Werther” (1774).

During his first ten years in Weimar, Goethe became a member of the Duke’s Privy Council (1776 – 1785), sat on the war and highway commissions, oversaw the reopening of silver mines in nearby Ilmenau and implemented a series of administrative reforms at the University of Jena.

He also contributed to the planning of Weimar’s botanical park and the rebuilding of its Ducal Palace.

Above: Weimar, Germany

In 1776, Goethe formed a close relationship with Charlotte von Stein (1742 – 1827), an older, married woman.

The intimate bond with her lasted for ten years, after which Goethe abruptly left for Italy without giving his companion any notice.

She was emotionally distraught at the time, but they were eventually reconciled.

Above: Charlotte von Stein

Goethe’s journey to the Italian peninsula and Sicily from 1786 to 1788 was of great significance in his aesthetic and philosophical development.

His father had made a similar journey, and his example was a major motivating factor for Goethe to make the trip.

More importantly, however, the work of Johann Joachim Winckelmann (1717 – 1768)  had provoked a general renewed interest in the classical art of ancient Greece and Rome.

Thus Goethe’s journey had something of the nature of a pilgrimage to it.

During the course of his trip Goethe met and befriended the artists Angelica Kauffman (1741 – 1807) and Johann Heinrich Wilhelm Tischbein (1751 – 1829), as well as encountering such notable characters as Lady Hamilton (1765 – 1815) and Alessandro Cagliostro (1743 – 1795).

He also journeyed to Sicily during this time and wrote that:

“To have seen Italy without having seen Sicily is to not have seen Italy at all, for Sicily is the clue to everything.” 

While in Southern Italy and Sicily, Goethe encountered, for the first time genuine Greek (as opposed to Roman) architecture, and was quite startled by its relative simplicity.

Winckelmann had not recognized the distinctness of the two styles.

Goethe’s diaries of this period form the basis of the non-fiction Italian Journey. 

Italian Journey only covers the first year of Goethe’s visit.

The remaining year is largely undocumented, aside from the fact that he spent much of it in Venice.

This “gap in the record” has been the source of much speculation over the years.

In the decades which immediately followed its publication in 1816, Italian Journey inspired countless German youths to follow Goethe’s example.

This is pictured, somewhat satirically, in George Eliot’s (aka Mary Ann Evans)(1819 – 1880) Middlemarch.

Goethe’s first major scientific work, the “Metamorphosis of Plants“, was published after he returned from a 1788 tour of Italy.

In 1791, he was made Managing Director of the theatre at Weimar.

Goethe took part in the Battle of Valmy (20 September 1792) against revolutionary France during the failed invasion of France.

Again during the Siege of Mainz (14 April – 23 July 1793), he served as a military observer.

His written account of these events can be found within his Complete Works.

In 1794, Goethe began a friendship with the dramatist, historian and philosopher Friedrich Schiller (1759 – 1805), whose plays he premiered until Schiller’s death.

Above: Friedrich Schiller

During this period Goethe published his second novel, “Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship” (1796), the verse epic “Hermann and Dorothe” (1797), and, in 1808, the first part of his most celebrated drama, “Faust“.

The German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer (1788 – 1860)  named “Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship” one of the four greatest novels ever written, while the American philosopher and essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 – 1882) selected Goethe as one of six “representative men” in his work “Representative Men“.

In 1806, Goethe was living in Weimar with his mistress Christiane Vulpius (1765 – 1816) and their son August von Goethe (1789 – 1830).

On 13 October 1806, Napoleon’s (1769 – 1821) army invaded the town.

The French “spoon guards“, the least disciplined soldiers, occupied Goethe’s house:

The ‘spoon guards’ had broken in, they had drunk wine, made a great uproar and called for the master of the house.

Goethe’s secretary Riemer reports:

‘Although already undressed and wearing only his wide nightgown, he descended the stairs towards them and inquired what they wanted from him.

His dignified figure, commanding respect, and his spiritual mien seemed to impress even them.’

But it was not to last long.

Late at night they burst into his bedroom with drawn bayonets.

Goethe was petrified.

Christiane raised a lot of noise and even tangled with them.

Other people who had taken refuge in Goethe’s house rushed in.

And so the marauders eventually withdrew again.

It was Christiane who commanded and organized the defense of the house on the Frauenplan.

The barricading of the kitchen and the cellar against the wild pillaging soldiery was her work.

Goethe noted in his diary:

“Fires, rapine, a frightful night.

Preservation of the house through steadfastness and luck.”

The luck was Goethe’s.

The steadfastness was displayed by Christiane.

Above: Goethe House and Museum, Weimar

Days afterward, on 19 October 1806, Goethe legitimized their 18-year relationship by marrying Christiane in a quiet marriage service at the Jakobskirche in Weimar.

They had already had several children together by this time, including their son, Julius August Walter von Goethe (1789 – 1830), whose wife, Ottilie von Pogwisch (1796 – 1872), cared for the elder Goethe until his death in 1832.

Christiane von Goethe died in 1816.

Johann reflected:

“There is nothing more charming to see than a mother with her child in her arms, and there is nothing more venerable than a mother among a number of her children.”

Above: Christiane von Goethe (née Vulpius)

Goethe was a cultural force.

During his first meeting with Napoleon in 1808, the latter famously remarked:

“Vous êtes un homme!” (You are a man!) 

The two discussed politics, the writings of Voltaire (1694 – 1778) and Goethe’s Sorrows of Young Werther, which Napoleon had read seven times and ranked among his favorites. 

Goethe came away from the meeting deeply impressed with Napoleon’s enlightened intellect and his efforts to build an alternative to the corrupt old regime. 

Goethe always spoke of Napoleon with the greatest respect, confessing that “nothing higher and more pleasing could have happened to me in all my life” than to have met Napoleon in person.

Above: Napoleon Bonaparte (1769 – 1821)

Goethe’s comments and observations form the basis of several biographical works, notably Johann Peter Eckermann’s “Conversations with Goethe“.

His poems were set to music by many composers including:

• Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756 – 1791)
• Ludwig van Beethoven (1770 – 1827)
• Franz Schubert (1797 – 1828)
• Hector Berlioz (1803 – 1869)
• Franz Liszt (1811 – 1886)
• Richard Wagner (1813 – 1883)
• Gustav Mahler (1870 – 1911)

Above: Goethe, 1806

What can we learn from Goethe in this 21st century?

As a young man Goethe could write all day long, but as he grew older he found that he could uster the necessary creative energy only in the mornings.

“At one time in my life I could make myself write a printed sheet every day and I found this quite easy.”, he said in 1828.

“Now I can only work at the second part of my Faust in the early hours of the day, when I am feeling revived and strengthened by sleep and not yet harassed by the absurd trivialities of everyday life. And even so, what does this work amount to? If I am very lucky indeed I can manage one page, but as a rule only a hand’s breadth of writing and often even less I am in an unproductive mood.”

These moods were the bane of Goethe’s existence.

He thought it futile to try to work without the spark of imagination.

He wrote:

“My advice therefore is that one should not force anything.

It is better to fritter away one’s unproductive days and hours or sleep through them than to try at such times to write something which will give one no satisfaction later on.“

I believe that everyone has time to write.

We are all given the same 24 hours a day.

It is how we choose to use this time that defines us.

I believe that you will find the time to write if you want to badly enough.

If you can somehow manage a page a day, that is a novel in a year.

If you write 1,000 words a day, that works out at a novel twice the length of Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations every single year.

Serious writers, those who make a success of it, will make time.

Try writing at different times of day and in different locations to see what suits you.

Experiment until you find the time when your creative juices are at peak flow.

However much or little you write, regularity is the most important thing.

When I look back at the life of Goethe I find myself impressed with the man he was.

He lived in turbulent times and kept on writing.

At times his writing could not generate enough income without supplementary income and yet he kept on writing.

When he sought inspiration beyond the bureaucracy of Weimar, he boldly journeyed to Italy and kept on writing.

He wrote what he thought and kept on learning.

His learning fuelled his writing and his writing compelled him to keep learning.

Truly Goethe was a man, with all the strengths and weaknesses that this implies.

Imagination is a garden.

It needs to be constantly cultivated.

Above: Goethe, 1811

I leave you with a quote from Kevin Kline in the 1993 film Dave:

“It’s not about the paycheck.

It is about respect.

It is about looking in the mirror and knowing that you’ve done something valuable with your day.

And if one person could start to feel this way, and then another person, and then another person, soon all these other problems may not seem so impossible.

You don’t really know how much you can do until you stand up and decide to try.“

This is the message I try to convey in my writing of Highway One, seeking to inspire children (and adults) to aspire to be all that they could be.

This is the message I want to plant inside you, gentle reader.

You don’t really know how much you can do until you stand up and decide to try.

Sources:

• “Daily Rituals”, Mason Currey (Picador)
• “History Day by Day”, Peter Furtado (Thames & Hudson)
• “Get Started in Creative Writing”, Stephen May (Teach Yourself)
• “Snow”, Orhan Pamuk (Alfred A. Knopf)
• Wikipedia
• Wikiquote

Just another day?

Landschlacht, Switzerland, 24 February 2017

Perhaps all of this is none of my business.

Perhaps I should just quietly go about my life ignoring the world around me.

What does one man’s opinion matter, especially if that man lacks wealth, power or fame?

I believe that no man is an island, that each man is a note that contributes to the symphony of mankind.

I believe if a person acts according to the surety of conscience, resolving to do no harm but fight for the common good then that voice merits attention.

I live in one of the world´s most wealthiest countries, not by premeditated choice, but because I followed my heart and my wife when she sought better working conditions as a doctor than our homelands were offering.

But living in Switzerland, just as living in other countries prior to this (including my home and native land of Canada) did, often saddens me.

For it is the acquisition of wealth that seems to drive both institutions as well as individuals to act in ways detrimental to both our and others’ human spirit.

We have allowed ourselves over generations to let pieces of metal and paper dominate our decisions: how we spend our days, what we consider valuable, how we choose our leaders, how we interact, how we choose our life companions, the list seems endless.

Why do we believe that a beggar impoverished by circumstance is less worthy of respect than a banker who profits from the hard labour of others?

Why do people starve in the world when there is an overabundance of food available that if equally distributed could reach everyone?

Why do we send young people and civilians to their deaths in wars so we can protect rare resources in the name of ideals we preach but seldom practice outside our borders?

Why are farmers who put food on our tables less respected than supermodels who are mere walking clothes hangers?

We spend 80% of our adult lives working, yet so very few seem to enjoy the work they do, but we sacrifice our joy for what we believe to be the greater good: comfortable home lives.

But is that big screen TV enhancing our relationship with our spouses and children?

We reach our destinations faster, at the sacrifice of communion with our environment.

We have access to more information, but no time to assimilate it.

Why do we think ourselves superior to others and disregard what their common humanity has to teach us?

There is much I do not understand, much I have to learn.

I am a simple man of simple education, but I try to think and understand and learn about a world beset with problems.

I have been blessed by life in that I have been allowed to teach others to earn my daily bread, in the opportunities I have had to explore a small part of the world, in the range of information sources that time and place have granted me access.

I have a warm, dry place to lay my head each night and food to sustain my appetite.

I have been blessed by an imperfect beautiful and intelligent wife who feels compelled to remain with an even more imperfect, not so handsome or clever husband.

I have been blessed by friends who may not understand me but whose opinions and encouragement I value.

I have been blessed by sufficient health and the ability to think and feel and through electronics a forum to share my thoughts and ask questions.

I enjoy blessings that others in the world might not be enjoying.

With privilege comes responsibility.

This is a lesson many wealthy individuals forget.

This is a lesson many politicians forget.

I have a number of friends whose political views I do not share.

I respect their opinions and would gladly defend their rights to express those opinions.

In Europe and America many people have been shocked by the rise of right wing parties riding waves of populism they managed to create.

No one could have predicted the rise of France’s Marine LePen or America´s Donald Trump or the resilence of political parties like Germany’s Alternative Party, Italy’s Lega Nord, Belgium’s Vlaam Blok, Austria’s Freedom Party or Switzerland’s Swiss People’s Party.

Brexit was unimaginable yet it happened.

Donald Trump becoming US President was even more inconceivable yet it has already been a month since his Inauguration.

They scream about the potential security threats of letting immigrants and refugees into their countries.

I sadly read of yesterday’s events in Lahore, Pakistan…

At least eight people have been killed and more than 30 others injured in an explosion that hit the Defence Y Block, which houses restaurants, offices and shops in a busy shopping area in Pakistan`s second-largest city.

Punjab police said it was a planted bomb, set on a timer or remotely detonated that caused the explosion.

The force of the explosion blew out the windows of surrounding buildings and cars, spraying them with shrapnel as people fled.

The Defence Y Block, part of the Defense Housing Authority, is controlled by the military with housing mainly given to people working for the armed forces.

Just one week prior to this, a suicide attack on a shrine in Pakistan killed at least 88 people and injured more than 250.

Above: The Sufi Shrine of Lal Shahbaz in Qalandar Sehwan, Pakistan, attacked on 16 February 2017

Two days before this a suicide bomber attacked a rally in Lahore, killing over a dozen people.

Above: Charing Cross, across from the Punjab Assembly, where the protestors had assembled on 13 February 2017

ISIS has claimed responsibility for the deaths, causing terror and distress across the country.

While the Western press have published the odd article about the attacks, the coverage goes no further…

There is no big front page reporting, no special emergency episodes of political podcasts, no trending #s, no Snapchat filters…

The Western media is so obsessed with what Donald Trump does and doesn´t say about potential security threats that they are ignoring the actual terror attacks going on.

Nationality, religion and race are the clear deciding factors in the media’s reporting of lives lost.

Western media and governments have a standard policy…

Terrorism isn’t worth mentioning unless it affects their own people and countries.

If there were the same number of terrorism victims in a similar attack in any Western country, the media and politicians would have respondly quickly and loudly.

The message is clear.

Western lives matter, but brown, black and non-Christian lives aren’t worthy of a story.

Pakistan`s terrorism problem can’t be ignored.

More than 80,000 Pakistanis have lost their lives since the 9/11 terror attacks.

Above: The flag of Pakistan

A total of four million Muslims have been killed in the war against terror.

Until we realise that all lives matter, that all lives deserve the same respect, regardless of race, wealth or creed, we will never be able to eradicate the threat of extremism which hangs over us all.

What happens in Nigeria, Turkey or Pakistan is no less important than what happens in America, Canada, France, Belgium, Germany or Switzerland.

Until we begin to care about life beyond our borders, not just for financial gain but for humanitarian reasons, mankind will never make much progress.

NASA recently announced the discovery of several Earthlike planets beyond our solar system, but I hope I don´t live to see the day mankind visits these planets or encounters alien life.

If we are unable to empathise with our fellow humans beyond our borders, surely we are not ready to explore the galaxy.

Saints and monsters

It was with the greatest pleasure that I spent most of the first two days of December in my favourite European City, Freiburg im Breisgau, the “capital” of southwestern Germany´s Black Forest.

I have in two previous posts briefly touched upon my last visit to Freiburg (Sign of the Times / Victims of the Machine) and I realise that, unlike former posts of walks and visits in Switzerland, England and Sardinia, I have not gone into detail about how and why Freiburg holds such a very special place in my heart and soul.

Bear with me, gentle readers, I will correct this glaring omission very soon.

I will say this though – part of the spell that is Freiburg is the lingering presence of old friends who remain there.

Some friends are closer to me than family.

Others are friends because their characters fascinate me.

What I love about my closest friends, be they in Freiburg or not, is not just a commonality of experience that we have shared or continue to share.

Rather it is in discussions with them that I learn so much from them.

Sometimes wisdom comes from the beauty of their intelligent minds.

Sometimes wisdom comes from the tapestry of their life experiences.

It is a rare and precious thing to have discussions with them.

For I feel that whatever physical setting we may find ourselves in, whether tavern or cafe, sitting on the banks of the Dreisam River or simply strolling through town,  my mind feels like I am instead in ancient Greece strolling through the groves of Academe like old philosophers, old “lovers of wisdom”, not so much smarter for the shared experience but instead more inspired and hungry to once again resume life in all its richest fullness.

In Freiburg two gentlemen, my friends since the beginning of this Millennium, inspire, delight, enlighten and entertain me.

Every visit to Freiburg, and I try to visit twice a year, I make it a point to see these two rough diamonds in my crown of Life: Reggie and Rolf.

Both Americans (No one is perfect!) bring this Canuck endless smiles and generate the deepest feelings of respect and gratitude for their continual presence in my life.

Reggie, the Philadelphia “Preacher of the Gospel of Hip Hop”, the ebony to my ivory, a fellow English teacher who has also wandered the globe and surprisingly found himself settled in Europe longer than he had ever imagined, is a pal, a brother in every way except genetics.

There has never been a conversation where he has not challenged me to view the world from perspectives other than my own set notions, and I love him for this!

A few hours with him and my mind is on fire!

As we often do, we talk about world politics and America´s role in the world, our relationships with our “women folk”, our common teaching experiences, our North American perspectives on living in Europe, our travels past and planned and those strange phenomena called Life and Love.

As a Canadian I find there is much about the American experience that, despite months-long periods of independent travel in the States, I have great difficulty understanding: views on guns, socialism, health care, military actions, international relations, religion, racism, just to name a few.

And Reggie, bless the man for trying, does his damnedness to educate me!

I think one way I differ from many North Americans (though I find Americans more prone to the following mindset than Canadians or Mexicans I have known) is that I don´t have the deep-set belief that most folks (or at least the folks you don´t know well) are inherantly evil.

Granted the ex-pat Americans I have met who have settled in countries where I too as an ex-pat have lived (South Korea, England, Germany, Switzerland) are generally exceptions to this mindset, there seems to be among the vast majority of Americans the idea that life is a bottomless vale of danger wherein one is surrounded by enemies on all sides and even allies cannot be completely trusted.

And as karmic consequence this message of distrust and paranoia they send to the world manifests itself as distrust and paranoia from the world and amongst themselves.

This seems to be a simple explanation for the power of the conservative right in America, the massive over-proliferation of guns in America, the tragic amounts of shootings and violence on American streets and campuses,  and the ridiculous amounts of revenue invested in the US military.

As a Canadian who has done a wee bit of world wandering in North America, Europe, Asia and Australia, it has been my experience that most people regardless of faith, colour, political creed or religious belief are decent, often generous, people who simply desire to live in peace and raise their loved ones with affection and compassion.

Don´t misunderstand me.

I am not suggesting that everyone everywhere is acting saint-like at all times, for each and everyone of us is essentially human and prone to mistakes and temptations where individual selfishness sometimes overwhelms common sense and compassion for others.

But in my own, albeit limited, experience, I have found that most people whoever wherever they may be are inherantly good.

Every population does produce its monsters but they are monsters because they differ so much from the rest of the population.

Monsters are the exception to the rule, not the rule itself.

I like the way American author John Steinbeck in East of Eden describes this:

“I believe there are monsters born in the world to human parents. 

Some you can see, misshapen and horrible…

They are accidents and no one´s fault…

And just as there are physical monsters, can there not be mental or psychic monsters born?

The face and the body may be perfect, but if a twisted gene or a malformed egg can produce physical monsters, may not the same process produce a malformed soul?

Monsters are variations from the accepted normal to a greater or a less degree. 

As a child may be born without an arm, so one may be born without kindness or the potential of conscience…

…You must never forget that a monster is only a variation…”

Reggie, Rolf and myself have had our moments of less-than-exemplary behaviour, as have had most of us,  for just as humanity has produced few monsters, it has also produced few saints.

But I stand by my conviction that the basic instincts of humanity are more often drawn towards love and compassion rather than hate and fear.

Only those whose lives have had the lack of experience of love and compassion are they drawn towards violence, hate and paranoia.

I return to John Steinbeck´s East of Eden:

“Do you remember when you read us the 16 verses of the 4th chapter of Genesis and we argued about them?…

Well, the story bit deeply into me and I went into it word for word…

The more I thought about the story (of Cain and Abel), the more profound it became to me…

The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you call sin ignorance.

The King James translation makes a promise in “Thou shalt”, meaning that men will surely triumph over sin.

But the Hebrew word, the word timshel – “Thou mayest” – that gives a choice.

Thou mayest rule over sin.

It might be the most important word in the world, that says the way is open, that throws it right back on a man…

…”Thou mayest” makes a man great, gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. 

He can choose his course and fight it through and win.”

The instinct and the potential for good is in all of us.

Timshel.

 

 

 

 

We´ll always have Paris (2): Some thoughts

Since the summer of 2014, ISIS has transformed the politics of the Middle East.

These jihad fighters combine fanaticism with military expertise and have won spectacular and unexpected victories against Iraqi, Syrian and Kurdish forces.

ISIS has spread from Iraq’s border with Iran to Iraqi Kurdistan and to the outskirts of Aleppo, the largest city in Syria.

ISIS is intoxicated by its triumphs.

It does not care about the growing list of its enemies, and has created unlikely alliances of enemies, like the United States, Iran, Saudi Arabia, the Gulf States and many Western countries.

ISIS is without mercy, as it kills and targets anyone against its rule.

Its leaders are the products of war.

Deliberate martyrdom through suicide bombing is a central and effective feature of their military tactics.

ISIS are experts in fear.

Videos showing executions terrify and demoralize.

And even though many living in the ISIS caliphate do not like their new masters and are frightened of them, they are even more frightened by their former governments who they view as hated enemies for their treatment of those who dissent.

Many defect to ISIS, as ISIS is viewed as better, stronger, winning wars, making money, and offering training.

ISIS seeks to reshape the world through violence.

The West talks about degrading and destroying ISIS, but there doesn’t seem to exist any evidence of a long-term decisive plan other than to contain and harass the jihadists by long range bombing.

Those countries most threatened by ISIS are least able to defend themselves as they lack even the most basic of reinforcements or supplies and are therefore incapable of defence and demoralized of any hope of victory.

ISIS is expanding.

The caliphate covers an area larger than Britain and dominates 6 million people – a population larger than Denmark, Finland or Ireland.

ISIS has tanks and artillery and controls most of Syria’s petroleum production.

Opposing ISIS is very dangerous.

Every act of terrorism shows that ISIS is coming to kill and destroy any who stands in their way.

Until the world acts decisively and directly, ISIS will continue its butchery unimpeded.

It is the world´s very disunity and ignorance that fuels ISIS power.

Paris will be attacked again, as will other cities both Western as well as Middle Eastern.

Each failure to challenge ISIS empowers ISIS.

ISIS uses its fanatical fundamentalism and interpretation of Islam, (an interpretation fostered by the very lands the West views as allies such as Pakistan and Saudi Arabia) to “justify” its acts.

It has been this assassin’s cloak that has made Islam and terrorism synonymous in the minds of the ignorant and the uninformed.

Islam is blamed for the actions of terrorists, but terrorists follow their own twisted logic and exist outside normality, outside morality, and are beyond reason.

Terrorists are senseless men without conscience, some who use religion to disguise their evil.

The Islamic conscience, the conscience of the vast majority of Muslims, a conscience shared by most religions, stands for justice, truth and humanity.

When we paint all Muslims with the same brush, we undermine their humanity and defame over one billion people – one in five who share our planet – their societies and their histories.

Sharia law is not practiced by most Muslims, nor has it ever been, nor will it ever be.

To understand the events of Paris and Beirut, to comprehend what drives men to murder, is to try to define the undefineable, to decipher irrationality through logic.

It can’t be done.

So, what can be done?

We need to define for ourselves, first and foremost, what it is that we stand for, whether we be Christian, Muslim or other, by remaining open to discussion and the acquisition of knowledge.

We must not hate entire groups for the actions of a few, for if we do then the very beliefs we claim to espouse – justice, truth and humanity – are nothing more than catchphrases of hypocrisy.

We can start by appreciating our homes and our communities and getting involved in our mutual benefit.

Interaction in our local communities is a healthy start to understanding the world as a whole, for it is only in looking beyond ourselves can we truly make a positive difference in the world, both locally and globally.

We must not lose courage and faith in ourselves, for no matter what tragedy befalls us, whether manmade or not, we will always have who we are, our own Paris.

We must speak out and act against those who would have us hate or whom would destroy us, while never forgetting that hate and destruction is practiced by very few, not by the majority.

Never stop believing that love can, and always will, conquer all.

We must not let hate or fear dictate our actions, for we are better than this.

Though Beirut may seem less relateable to many than Paris, we must not view places far removed from us, geographically or culturally, as less worthy of compassion, for throughout the world we share a common humanity.

This humanity is our Paris.

We’ll always have Paris.

All you need is cafuné

Earlier today I mentioned that everyone has, or ought to have, a list of ten books they would rescue from their burning building.

I have already named two: Ronald Gross’ The Independent Scholar’s Handbook and Richard N. Bolles’ What Color Is Your Parachute?.

(See Hope for the Hopeless: Brave New World and Underdog University of this blog.)

A third book I cannot imagine living without is a psychology / philosophy book by Felice Leonardo Buscaglia, aka Leo Buscaglia, with the simple title: Love.

I love this warm and wonderful book and the way Buscaglia envelops the reader in his warm embrace through his quiet simple manner.

“…they didn’t know about Papa’s rule that before we left the table, we had to tell him something new we had learned that day.

We thought that this was really horrible – what a crazy thing to do!

While my sisters and I were washing our hands and fighting over the soap, I’d say: “Well, we’d better learn something.”

We’d dash to the encyclopedia and flip to something like “The population of Iran is…”

We’d mutter to ourselves “The population of Iran is…”

We’d sit down and after a dinner of great big dishes of spaghetti and mounds of veal so high you couldn’t even see across the table, Papa would sit back and take out his little black cigar and say, “Felice, what did you learn new today?”

And I’d drone “The population of Iran is…”

Nothing was insignificant to this man.

He’d turn to my mother and say, ” Rosa, did you know that?”

She’d reply, impressed, “No.”

We’d think “Gee, these people are crazy.”

But I’ll tell you a secret.

Even now going to bed at night, so exhausted as I often am, I still lie back and say to myself, “Felice, old boy, what did you learn new today?”.

And if I can’t think of anything, I’ve got to get a book and flip to something before I can get to sleep.

Maybe this is what learning is all about.”
Leo Buscaglia, Love

Today, I learned the Brazilian Portuguese word “cafuné”.

“Cafuné is the closeness between two people, a gentle, undemanding affection, the sort of love that asks for nothing.

It may be the warm, safe, family feeling between a parent and a child or the love of grandparents for their grandchildren.

Perhaps it is the closeness between two people that may some day turn into love.

Between two lovers, it might contain the gentlest hint of a sexual promise, precisely capturing the tender longing of the early days of a couple’s time together.

Or it may be the relaxed fondness that remains when the fire of a passionate affair has burned low.

It could be the act of running someone’s fingers through somebody’s hair – possibly lulling them to sleep or possibly expressing a drowsy fellow-feeling.

Fazer cafuné em alguém means to show affection of exactly that sort.

It doesn’t apply only to humans.

You might be gently tickling the head of a much-loved dog or cat.

Or stroking the soft, silky hair of a horse’s ears.

Cafuné is a pleasant experience for both the giver and the receiver and demands nothing from either of them.

There is room for more cafuné in our lives.”
Andrew Taylor, The Greeks Had A Word for It: Words You Never Knew You Can’t Do Without

“We are all so much together, but we are all dying of loneliness”
Dr. Albert Schweitzer

“Everything is filtered through me, so the greater I am, the more I have to give.

The greater knowledge I have, the more I’m going to have to give.

The greater understanding I have, the greater is my abilty to teach others and to make myself the most fantastic, the most beautiful, the most wonderous, the most tender human being in the world.” Leo Buscaglia, Love

“What we think is less than what we know.

What we know is less than what we love.

What we love is so much less that what there is.

And to this precise extent, we are much less than what we are.”
R.D. Laing, The Politics of Experience

“We need not be afraid to touch, to feel, to show emotion.

The easiest thing in the world to be is what you are, what you feel.”
Leo Buscaglia, Love

Reach out and feel the cafuné.

Questions of character

The human mind is a strange thing.

This is a truism I have noticed since I first became aware of the world outside myself.

This is a truism I still encounter on a daily basis whenever I find myself amongst other people.

Two conflicting trains of thought converge and clamour for dominance in my mind this morning.

I recall a scene from Chris Nolan’s Batman Begins where Katie Holmes, as Rachel Dawes, tells Christian Bale, as Bruce Wayne:

“It doesn’t matter who you are underneath. It’s what you do that defines you.”

The mind also recalls the Biblical story of Jesus saving a woman accused of adultery from stoning.

By simply bending down on the ground and writing the sins of her accusers in the sand, he challenges them saying:

“He who is without sin, let him cast the first stone.”

A recent conversation with a friend about a mutual acquaintance had us on different sides of the fence regarding our topic of conversation’s character.

I condemned him for his morally grey private life and his organizationally questionable work habits.

My friend, while acknowledging the acquaintance’s weaknesses, revealed aspects of his imperfect past to put his present actions into perspective.

As a teacher of language I find myself noticing that my effectiveness in improving a student’s ability to communicate in English as a foreign language is largely dependent upon the student’s personality.

I try to motivate the student as I impart new language skills, but unless the student has already determined that he / she truly wants to learn, then, and only then, will my efforts bear fruit.

As a Starbucks barista, the desire to motivate someone is more subtle.

To help feed the ever-hungry maw of the Starbucks’ stockholders, it is expected that the humble barista do all that he can to encourage customers to buy as many of our products as possible.

Though the bean counters and marketing gurus of Starbucks tend to lean towards the hard sell, I found myself more effective a salesman by simply offering the customer options, show what advantage an option has and then let the customer’s own desires set the tone.

So, for example, Starbucks is presently encouraging us to promote our pumpkin spice lattes and our Guatamalan blend beans, but I find that doing so directly, focusing on what I want them to buy rather than trying to find out what they want, is an exercise in futility and wasted breath.

So, if a customer doesn’t know what he wants, I mention the lattes.

When a customer orders a coffee, I ask if they want it stronger or milder.

If milder, then the Guatamalan blend has sold itself.

But where being a barista differs from the job of a teacher is in the surprising depth of interactions between people.

Of course, much of the barista day is focused on the rapid-fire quick contact with passing customers en route from one destination to another needing their caffeine fix.

But human interaction becomes fascinating when lingering contact is established amongst ourselves the staff or with regular customers.

Here, the barista becomes a priest, a father confessor, a bartender.

It never ceases to amaze me what regular customers and work partners will confess to me.

I am also humbled and astonished how close quarters and regular contact compel and reveal past histories to and from members of staff.

So much of the human experience seems on display during my hours at Starbucks: victories celebrated, defeats mourned, problems encountered, stress fought against, fears exposed, friendships strengthened or fractured.

The drama of life in all its splendor and complexity is laid before my wondering eyes.

A regular customer tells me of his ongoing struggles with his ex.

Another tells me of the fear and courage she has as she returns back to academia to get her law degree and truly help humanity more than she could previously.

A barista partner reveals his desire to study at far-off University of Singapore. leaving me speechless at the uniqueness of his dream.

Another regular customer reveals a roller-coaster of past and present psychological problems bravely contended with and dealt with a courage and hope that surprises not only others but especially himself.

Yet another coyly shares her excitement at having finally found the love of her life and the profound deep joy that this discovery has given her, an inner joy and a deep sense of emotional satisfaction and psychological peace.

I’ve had customers tell me in great detail their sorrows and joys in their jobs as well as their private lives.

I am honoured and moved that they feel I am worthy of their revelations and confessions.

When I listen, truly listen, to those folks eager to share their lives with me, I can’t help but ponder what is truer: our self-analysis and perspectives or the actions we take in our lives as viewed by others.

I think of my foster cousin Steve who last week received a medal of honour from our provincial parliament for his efforts to keep Canadian teenagers in school.

Having grown up with Steve, not only am I aware of his noteworthy attributes but as well aspects of his character that are not so infallible.

I admire him more because I know the weaknesses and fears that he has had to overcome to achieve his goals.

(See A sense of accomplishment: My favourite SOB of this blog.)

I think of the drunk I met on the early morning 0530 train to St. Gallen yesterday.

He tried to generate friendly conversation with me, but desiring a more peaceful commute I changed seats so I would not have to talk to him.

I judged him by his sloppy appearance, his alcoholic breath and loud manner, yet his travelling companion, a Rottweiler the size of a small pony, loved him unquestionably.

Maybe the resolution, the halfway mark, between these two different trains of thought going their two separate ways can be summed up by the adage:

Judge not, lest ye be judged.

The wonderful world of work

On three different occasions I have witnessed a co-worker cry.

Many times I hear co-workers complain about their jobs.

I recall a beloved co-worker Vanessa, of Macedonia, (a country in the throes of civil unrest on a scale not far removed from Syria’s problems), who remarked to me that the job was not at all living up to her expectations.

Last night just after work I had a profound discussion about work with my shift supervisor Bryan “Chicken Legs” and we discussed the phenomenon of promotion and who and how people get promoted.

All of this has made me think about my own experiences with the wonderful world of work as well as my own hopes and expectations for employment and I am trying soberly and objectively to look at why work is so often a “four-letter word” for so many, including myself at times.

I don’t know if I will be expressing any truisms here so rather than make too many overgeneralisations, let me, for the record, simply say what work has meant for me.

First, employees and employers are completely different animals, despite the similarity of some of their desires.

As an employee, I ask myself what can an employer do for me.

The boss asks himself what can I do for him.

Though we both ask the same question: “What’s in it for me?”, the selfishness of this question clearly leads to conflict right from the start.

An employee generally begins a job with the idea that if he works hard and does his job well, then he’ll be rewarded.

Some even imagine that if one is a good person of honour and integrity then this honour and integrity will be returned.

The idea of getting what you think you deserve is the source of many a dispute and disappointment in the work world.

I look over my own spotted “career” and see examples after examples of where merit and dignity go unrewarded and unrecognized.

Case 1: Ottawa, Canada

I got promoted to a position of shift supervisor over data input operators at a credit card producing bank.

My first duty was to fire a friend as he was consistently five words below the expected input a typist was supposed to produce.

The friend was married with a baby on the way.

I refused and pleaded for time to allow him to improve his efficiency.

My boss wouldn’t budge.

I set the record for the shortest lasting promotion in the history of the company.

We both were on the streets that day.

Though I did “the right thing”, which I still don’t regret, my good deeds and intentions meant little to the company.

Case 2: St. Gallen, Switzerland

As part of my duties as head teacher, I was required to visit company executives and teach them business English in their offices.

In a mad dash from one company to another, I missed a step, fell down and badly damaged my right wrist.

As a result I was hospitalised and missed a number of weeks from work while the wrist healed.

My employer was badly inconvenienced by my accident as I had not only administrative duties but as well the bulk of the school’s teaching hours, so he distributed the teaching between himself and the other teachers and assigned the administrative duties to a secretary.

Realising he could do without me, upon my return to work, my employer then proceeded to make my worklife a living hell to a point where remaining at a school where I was clearly no longer welcome was no longer a sane option.

The employer cared little for my performance and record as he did about the potential benefits of making my position obsolete.

Second, there is the Peter Principle in action, where a person is promoted to a level wherein he becomes incompetent.

Companies do realise that if an employee has remained with the company a fair amount of time that it is bad for morale if that employee remains unpromoted.

But being promoted does not always mean that the employee can handle the duties the new position entails.

At the same time, other more competent employees might be better suited to the new position but are denied the position because they were not at the company long enough.

And, of course, in the rarified air of top management, promotion to head positions is more a matter of reputation and networking rather than a proven track of performance, thus a politician may find himself as chief consultant for a major company, though he may have never spent a day before working for that firm.

And, interestingly enough, a politician’s poor job performance in industry still doesn’t affect his political future.

Case Three: A co-worker had been with a firm for a long time.

She, as well as everyone else, recognized she had been there awhile and remained unpromoted, so finally to silence her dissent and because she did provide valuable skills to her job, she was promoted.

Despite time served, still many objected to her promotion as she was rude to anyone who had no power over her, but she got promoted as the perceived costs, risks and benefits of promoting or hiring someone else outweighed the costs, risks and benefits of promoting her.

Case Four: Former Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney bankrupts his former employer, gets a golden parachute nonetheless, gets elected Prime Minister and today is still advisor to many companies and gives expensive speeches around the world, despite being reviled by those Canadians old enough to remember him.

Third, much depends upon your relationship with colleagues and administration.

Herein lies my greatest folly and clearest weakness.

I am, without a doubt, one of the world’s worst networkers.

I do my job, in fact, take pride in it and do it to the best of my ability, but once the job is over I dash away home determined to keep my private life private and not become morassed in the politics and games-playing of work (which, by the way, because of human nature, is impossible).

I know I am usually well-liked wherever I have worked as I am polite with everyone, try not to be judgemental or prejudicial against anyone, am able to have an intelligent discussion and am the type of person others would enjoy having a beer with.

(Though there are some former students of mine that might disagree!)

But there remains a reluctance on my part to interact with colleagues, because we spend so much of our lives together already, because interaction with person A prejudices person B against you, and because, despite my public persona, I remain a relatively shy person, the networking I should do, I don’t.

And, at the end of the day, it is easier to promote a friend than it is a stranger.

So, I think to myself, as I think about those jaded and disillusioned about their jobs, that there must be more to life than remaining unfulfilled in 80% of our adult lives.

And, I think it all revolves around perception of time.

Most of us believe that getting promoted is a reward for past performance.

It isn’t.

Bosses and companies do not reward so much on past merit as much as they invest in your future contribution.

Their perception of you, regardless of whether it is valid or not, is the determining factor.

So, much to my wife’s eternal disappointment, her husband will probably remain a humble teacher and humble part-time barrista, because he chooses not to care about how he is perceived for future promotion as much as he cares about how he performed on the job today.

(One can almost hear the chuckle of divorce lawyers!)

In a world that defines us by the job we do, I choose not to let my work define my life.

I am more than my job.

I work to live.

I don’t live to work.

What is needed to make work my passion is the sense of doing something valuable with my day that, in its own small way, makes the world a wee bit better than it was.

So, if my students learn something from me that they hadn’t had before and if my customers’ day is a wee bit brighter because of my friendly service, then I take satisfaction in that.

The rest remains only icing on the cake.

Under the skin

Oh, narrow, dark and humid streets rising like crevices to an unforgiving sky.

I long for a Cathedral, a fine old pagan stone fortress, just for its refreshing cold atmosphere.

I would even settle for a baroque, homely, altar in a corner hole in the wall, just to squat in the corner and enjoy the delicious fridge-like interior.

Sunset does not bring relief, either in Sardinia or back home in Switzerland.

One feels like an abandoned snowball atop a sunlit bluff of rock.

Everyone and everything is smelly, dark, dank and sweaty.

No one scrambles.

No one exerts more than one has to.

We are trapped in our miserable bodies and bathed in misery.

Even nocturnal activities of an intimate nature seem far too strenous an effort to even contemplate.

I wade through the river of humidity and think wistfully of those with much harder conditions than mine: Starbucks barristas without A/C, salt miners, McDonald’s employees, construction workers, farmhands.

Sitting at my computer, I am shirtless, sweaty rivers drench my desk.

It’s almost too hot to write, to think.

Temperature extremes always make one consider one’s body because of the discomfort.

One notices the outward effects of temperature but what would it be like if we could see the effects on the insides of our bodies at will without machines?

Would we witness any remarkable internal differences?

Perhaps you may have heard of Gunter von Hagens the anatomist or his plastination process for preserving biological tissue specimens?

Or maybe Body Worlds, the travelling exhibition of preserved human bodies and body parts, which has been ongoing since 1995?

(You may remember this from the James Bond film, Casino Royale.)

Before Van Hagens was Sardinian anatomist Francesco Antonio Boi and his legacy, the Mostra di Cere Anatomiche di Clement Susini dell’Universita di Cagliari (the Museum of Clemente Susini Wax Anatomical Models at the University of Cagliari).

The Museum displays 23 somewhat gruesome wax models of anatomical sections made in the early 19th century by Florentine modeller Clemente Susini and purchased and brought to Cagliari by Francesco Boi.

Items include cutaways of a head and neck, showing the intricate network of nerves and blood vessels linking the brain and facial organs, and one of a pregnant woman displaying the foetus within the womb.

Boi’s justification for his wax collection was:
– parts of the human body cannot be preserved for long periods
– parts cannot be entirely demonstrated from a single point of view
– parts are hardly visible and some require the use of a microscope

Boi’s collection is more akin to Madame Tussaud than Van Hagen in that these are wax models and not actual human bodies.

As well, much like a Gray’s Anatomy book, we do not see whole bodies but rather cross sections.

Van Hagen shows whole bodies plasinated in lifelike poses and dissected to show various structures and systems of the human anatomy.

His purpose is the education of laymen about the human body, leading to better health awareness.

Boi’s purpose is also educational.

My wife, a doctor, of course, loves this kind of exhibit, but I find this sort of thing…unsettling.

Granted, education is a fine and wonderful thing, but are there limits as to what we should know and who should know it?

Religious groups, including representatives of the Catholic Church, devout Muslims and Jewish rabbis, have objected to the display of human remains, stating that it is inconsistent with reverence towards the human body.

It is hard to view a human body as a beautiful temple when viewed from the interior.

Bones, muscles and nerves are somewhat more holy when covered by flesh.

Does one really need to see a liver or a spleen?

Does this kind of thing lead us to awestruck wonder at the intricate and fragile workings of our beings or is it a brutal reminder of both our equality as humans as well as our mortality?

I see the manifestation of this never-ending heatwave upon my skin.

I am not so sure I really want to see my heart beat or my brain sweat…

Why we walk backwards

Female deities with inscrutable smiles, the Stele di Nora (a stone tablet showing in Phoenician characters the first recorded occurrence of the name “Sardinia”), and spindly, highly stylish, innovative and quirky bronze statuettes of varying sizes are just some of the things possible for viewing at Cagliari’s Museo Archeologico.

This is Sardinia’s premier archaeological museum displaying artifacts that span millenia of ancient history.

Sardinia’s most important prehistoric, Phoenician, Carthaginian and Roman finds are gathered here, including jewellery, coins, busts and statues of gods and muses and funerary items from the sites of Nora, Tharros and Sant’Antico.

I was most impressed with their mission statement:

“Why we walk backwards

We start from the end, from today to the time of discovery.

Why?

Because telling the story is not an easy challenge.

There are many things we should know, but we don’t.

That exposes us to a serious danger.

Whether we are aware or not, whether we want it or not, we must know that anything coming to us from the past, anything that attracted our interest and attention will become a part of our world because of that interest and attention.

That will increase and at the same time modify its meaning.

Then it may happen – it frequently does – that, interrogating the past, we hear only our own voice.”

And written on another wall…

“The word “text” comes from the Latin “textus” (fabric), a product of weaving, the criss-crossing and tying of threads.

It isn’t a generic and chaotic set of elements, but a set of elements organically connected to compose a cloth.

That is what we mean when we say that a territory can be intepreted as text.”

And, in a nutshell, that is my dream…

To create a tapestry of words that attracts interest and attention that becomes part of the world, a textual territory of the mind and spirit.

It is a good dream indeed.

Why I write

Who am I?

Why am I writing this blog?

Legitimate questions.

I am Adam Oliver Kerr, aka Canada Slim.

In my travels across Switzerland, and eventually the world (I hope), I explore the places I encounter with a curious and open mind, wanting to know “What makes a place special and unique?”

Sometimes it is a place’s past, its history and culture.

Sometimes it is its present glories, its unique way of presenting itself to the world, its architecture, its innovations, its literature, its music. But as well, its problems, like poverty, unemployment, politics, social issues, etc.

Sometimes it is its potential future, its creators, its artists, its musicians, its dreamers.

I want to share my discoveries with the world rather than just keeping a personal journal, because it is my feeling, my conviction, that what impresses me, moves me, inspires me, about a place and its people, might also impress / move / inspire others to look around and see the world as it is and dream of a world as it can be.

What to write about?

People, of course.

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason,
How infinite in faculties, in form and moving,
How express and admirable in action,
How like an angel in apprehension,
How like a god!
(William Shakespeare)

A blog written by a person addressed to other people should, of course, sensibly speak about what interests people and that is: people – others and occasionally themselves.

The Chronicles of Canada Slim will be my opinions, observations and thoughts about world events, politics, philosophy, history and culture, through the prism of perspective of a Canadian ex-pat / teacher / barrista living and working in Switzerland.

I would love to reach people who enjoy travelling, especially slow.

I would love to reach people who enjoy reading and thinking about what they read.

I would love to reach people who are open-minded, who care about the world they live in and who long for a better place for those who inherit the planet after we have left this mortal coil.

I would love my writing to entertain, inform, inspire and enlighten.

There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
(William Shakespeare)

I began this blog on 19 May 2015 and this blog will already mark my 66th post.

(My 43rd post, Schattenwald: Forest of Shadows (Prologue), toyed with the notion of using this blog as a serial set of submissions of a novel I am “working” on, but I have decided to create another blog in future after the novel is completed.)

By May 2016 I hope to have written a total of 365 posts, have increased my readership to a three-digit level, have explored much more of Switzerland (and the world) and have created a blog that people look forward to reading.

Modest goals?

To anyone who enjoys this blog, has comments, critical or complimentary, ideas and perspectives they would like to share with me, please feel free to contact me at:

canadaslim@hotmail.com

I hope to hear from you soon!