As I read about the earthquake that has killed over 5,000 people (and counting) in Indonesia, I juxtapose the suffering of those people to my thoughts about pace of life, and being free from stress, of discovering who I was born to be. Are my thoughts and feelings the reflections of someone who has the luxury of being at the higher end of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. Almost certainly.
When I heard a group discussion about of shopping at WalMart, I recall saying that being socially conscious is a luxury. I would imagine that most people who shop at WalMart do so because it's cheap. If they had the means to consider options, I would imagine a good number of them might be motivated to consider the broader social concerns.
I've had the unfortunate, or fortunate, depending on what one is hoping to learn or feel, experience of seeing abject suffering in Bangladesh. And there's no doubt in my mind that nothing creates more stress than wondering when and where one's next meal will come from. Even with controlled fasting, I've known enough hunger to feel that overwhelming--and even paralyzing--need. I can't imagine what it must be like for someone who doesn't get to break a fast at a specific and predictable time. I try to keep this in mind when my steak isn't cooked just the way I want, or the wild salmon isn't available on a particular night (and I'll have to settle for farmed salmon).
So many people feel this way everyday in Bangladesh, and so many must feel this with tremendous intensity following the Indonesian earthquake. So many people at the bottom of the Maslow hierarchy of needs pyramid.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Pace of Life
On Saturday night, we walked around and drove through Kitsilano, downtown Vancouver and Granville Island (for dinner). Many businesses closed by 6pm, and almost all of them closed by 9pm. At the Railspur Alley Cafe and Bistro, we had some great food, even better company, and noted that they started closing before the posted closing time. There was nothing pushy or rude about this; it was simply acknowledgement that business was a little slow on this particular evening (we speculated that the "Eat Vancouver" food festival might have drawn off some customers). I'm sure they would have remained open if someone had come in, but they also realized there are better things to do than "maximize profit" on a Saturday evening.
During the day, we walked around the beaches near UBC and the Pacific Spirit Regional Park. Perhaps being near the mountains, ocean and forests just makes one more pensive and reflective, but it's worth noting that the beachfront was free of condos, or hotels, or anything that else might increase the GDP--and ruin the peace and tranquility. More than anything, I noted the silence in the lush, green forest.
There's a harmony about this place, which probably reflects a sense of community and sharing. There are common spaces where various people gather--and not just to spend money; there is a major urban center amongst the trees, water and mountains. There is free firewood and free parking on Granville Island. There is a sense that life is about more than squeezing just a little more productivity out of the moment. That perhaps life is about living in the moment.
During the day, we walked around the beaches near UBC and the Pacific Spirit Regional Park. Perhaps being near the mountains, ocean and forests just makes one more pensive and reflective, but it's worth noting that the beachfront was free of condos, or hotels, or anything that else might increase the GDP--and ruin the peace and tranquility. More than anything, I noted the silence in the lush, green forest.
There's a harmony about this place, which probably reflects a sense of community and sharing. There are common spaces where various people gather--and not just to spend money; there is a major urban center amongst the trees, water and mountains. There is free firewood and free parking on Granville Island. There is a sense that life is about more than squeezing just a little more productivity out of the moment. That perhaps life is about living in the moment.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Granville Island
I am on vacation in Vancouver.
Everytime I've had the great fortune to take a trip to Canada or Europe, I've noted how much more relaxed people seem as compared to Americans. A recent article in The New York Times described a study that concluded we spend twice as much per capita on health insurance as the English, yet they seem to be about twice as healthy as Americans (and the English almost certainly aren't the healthiest Europeans). The article asserted that stress and anxiety could be causes for American health problems. You think?
I watched the documentary "People Like Us" which examines the issue of social class in the US. It provided some interesting food for thought about the myth and reality of the "rags to riches" story, class mobility and self-awareness or images of class. For a nation that claims to be largely free of class distinctions, it's sad to note how much Americans try to differentiate themselves by class. How much stress and anxiety to which we subject ourselves simply because of an obsession with class.
Granville Island in Vancouver is an industrial park. Well, that's far too simple a description. It describes itself as an "urban planning success story." That's an understatement. It's a remarkable mosaic of industrial plants, artists' galleries, crafts makers' stores, a public market, a kids zone, and green, open spaces. All surrounded by water. What I found most amazing about this place was the seemingly contradictory activities and spaces. As I walked around, I kept wondering about whether this type of convergence can really work. It does. Beautifully.
Baltimore is a city with an industrial heart, its heyday defined by steel, ships, and railroads. In many ways, it celebrates this history, but in other ways, it tries to sweep it away. The Inner Harbor is superficially similar to Granville Island. By some measures, the Inner Harbor is a success story, but it does not embrace Baltimore's industrial hearbeat. Most of the tourists, and some of the residents, may not even notice the signs of industry that are still within sight of the Harborfront.
As I observed more, I began to sense that Granville Island is a celebration of diversity. I often seek patterns or themes--sometimes to a fault. Nonetheless, I kept searching for an overarching theme, perhaps because this place seemed so unusual. Finally, I thought..."people working with their hands." Everyone here builds things with their hands. As someone who spends almost all day in front a computer, leading a group that builds digital libraries, there's something really affirming about seeing the creation of real, tangible objects. Initially, I thought that it must be strange for machinists or construction workers to be among artists. Then I thought perhaps people in Vancouver view their "blue collar" workers as artists. What might happen in a place where everyone isn't obsessed with class, but rather see each other as human beings?
I noted someone wearing a hard hat, who was helping well-dressed tourists. And then I noted the flowers in a window of one of the industrial buildings. It's hard to see the machine on the inside, but it's easy to see the appreciation for flowers. As I reflected on this scene, it occurred to me that Granville Island challenged my tacit impressions of class. And that was a liberating feeling. It also helped me tap into the dormant artist within me. But that's a story for another day.
Everytime I've had the great fortune to take a trip to Canada or Europe, I've noted how much more relaxed people seem as compared to Americans. A recent article in The New York Times described a study that concluded we spend twice as much per capita on health insurance as the English, yet they seem to be about twice as healthy as Americans (and the English almost certainly aren't the healthiest Europeans). The article asserted that stress and anxiety could be causes for American health problems. You think?
I watched the documentary "People Like Us" which examines the issue of social class in the US. It provided some interesting food for thought about the myth and reality of the "rags to riches" story, class mobility and self-awareness or images of class. For a nation that claims to be largely free of class distinctions, it's sad to note how much Americans try to differentiate themselves by class. How much stress and anxiety to which we subject ourselves simply because of an obsession with class.
Granville Island in Vancouver is an industrial park. Well, that's far too simple a description. It describes itself as an "urban planning success story." That's an understatement. It's a remarkable mosaic of industrial plants, artists' galleries, crafts makers' stores, a public market, a kids zone, and green, open spaces. All surrounded by water. What I found most amazing about this place was the seemingly contradictory activities and spaces. As I walked around, I kept wondering about whether this type of convergence can really work. It does. Beautifully.
Baltimore is a city with an industrial heart, its heyday defined by steel, ships, and railroads. In many ways, it celebrates this history, but in other ways, it tries to sweep it away. The Inner Harbor is superficially similar to Granville Island. By some measures, the Inner Harbor is a success story, but it does not embrace Baltimore's industrial hearbeat. Most of the tourists, and some of the residents, may not even notice the signs of industry that are still within sight of the Harborfront.
As I observed more, I began to sense that Granville Island is a celebration of diversity. I often seek patterns or themes--sometimes to a fault. Nonetheless, I kept searching for an overarching theme, perhaps because this place seemed so unusual. Finally, I thought..."people working with their hands." Everyone here builds things with their hands. As someone who spends almost all day in front a computer, leading a group that builds digital libraries, there's something really affirming about seeing the creation of real, tangible objects. Initially, I thought that it must be strange for machinists or construction workers to be among artists. Then I thought perhaps people in Vancouver view their "blue collar" workers as artists. What might happen in a place where everyone isn't obsessed with class, but rather see each other as human beings?
I noted someone wearing a hard hat, who was helping well-dressed tourists. And then I noted the flowers in a window of one of the industrial buildings. It's hard to see the machine on the inside, but it's easy to see the appreciation for flowers. As I reflected on this scene, it occurred to me that Granville Island challenged my tacit impressions of class. And that was a liberating feeling. It also helped me tap into the dormant artist within me. But that's a story for another day.
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