UC Davis - Shame on You

On February 27, 2010, I wrote a blog post about riots near Berkeley. I noted that students who rioted ought to consider other options. I also noted the stark, jarring image of a line of riot police standing in front of a Bank of America symbol in the background. I wondered how this meme might transform over time. I find it disconcerting to say the least that responses to outrage against financial "services" companies have reached our current state of being.

The UC Davis pepper spray incident is horrific. Seeing students sitting peacefully in an act of protest -- and expression -- only to be pepper sprayed by a police officer apparently sanctioned by the University administration makes me angry. And it's not as if the other police on the scene -- armed for a massive riot scene rather than a student protest -- acted much better. The most passionate response from the students and onlookers was to yell "shame on you."

Apparently, UC Davis' Chancellor, Linda Katehi, was frightened about a "walk of shame" that students had planned for her as she walked to her car. She asked a minister to walk with her and intervene in terms of clearing out a wider path. The students apparently greeted her in silence that spoke volumes. No doubt the students who were pepper sprayed, dragged around, shoved to the ground and hauled away were frightened as well. Who came to their rescue? The only ones who haven't been offensive in this picture are the students. Katehi was afraid of them? Everyone has a right to be safe and secure but she had no evidence of impending confrontation. Is this her idea of leadership?

Katehi apparently mentioned the lack of options for handling the initial protest. How about talking to the students? You know, the ones whose welfare and interests you're supposed to represent and protect.

Shame on you.

Optimal Grieving

One of my best friends tells me that I'm able to do what is necessary at the time when it is necessary. He says it's a form of optimization -- channeling the necessary focus, energy and attention to the tasks at hand and then recharging and recovering during the gaps.

So I ask myself: when is the optimal time for grieving?

Waves

My life feels like waves of shame that come crashing against the shores of my ego. And yet opposing these forces, there are extraordinary individuals (and cats) and punctuated moments of joy that shore me up. Is this how it's supposed to be?

Better Late than Never

So it begins.

Another opportunity for me to reflect, learn, grow, evolve and decide. To explore more fully what I need or want. To understand if I've decided to reach this point or arrived here and tried to convince myself it is success and happiness. To embrace Kurt Vonnegut's wisdom that "we are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be."

I'm tired of these opportunities.

I'm tired of running from the demons of my past. I miss deeply the angels Maya and Tabitha who filled my life with compassion. From the movie Excalibur: "I didn't know how empty was my soul... until it was filled. " I still haven't had enough pauses between the frantic moments of life to fully mourn their loss. The thread between the feelings of loss from their passing to other losses in my life is tangible and clear, yet also fragile and tenuous. In their case, my compassion was unrestrained, unconditionally accepted and reciprocated. I thought this was true with...now I suppose I will find out.

Socrates said "the unexamined life is not worth living" but he didn't mention the difficulty of examining of one's life. What will happen when my mind and heart stop racing? When I stop, pause, be still, reflect without immediately thinking of someone else's needs?

The intensity with which I live has not been about passionately living in the moment. It has been about proving myself to others. I'm done proving myself to others. Lao-Tzu's statement seems especially appropriate: "Mastering others is strength. Mastering yourself is true power."

I could chalk all of this up to a mid-life crisis but that wouldn't do justice to the series of crises I have encountered throughout my life. What I do know is that the most important quote -- and hope -- for me is captured by "better late than never."

Illumination

Take 1.

6am...i should have stayed overnight in philly...i'm not a morning person...why do i do this to myself?...damn alarm...if i hit snooze, i can get another 8 minutes of sleep, but is it worth it?...my cat's awake and he's already asking me for food...has he been fed already?...i need to eat before i leave but i'm not really hungry...damn, i don't have enough time to shower!...what am i going to wear...great, my shirt is fraying on the front...will i find a cab at this time?...i arrive 20 minutes before my train...i could have hit snooze at least one more time...i'll sleep in the quiet car...great, i sat on the sunrise side...and the curtain doesn't block the light!...WHAT IS THAT DAMN RATTLING NOISE?!?!?...it must be the food tray next to me...no, maybe it's the foot rest...IT WON'T STOP!...i'll ignore it...oh man, now the sun is really in my eyes...i can't sleep...i might as well check my email...

I feel so irritated.

Take 2.

6am...it's early but at least i'm in my own bed...i am so lucky to wake up to my favorite music on a mobile device that fits in my pocket...snooze is a great way to ease into the waking world...my wonderful cat always waits until i'm awake to greet me with a morning song...i hope i get to see his expression when he gets his first food of the day...i am so lucky to get food whenever i want it, however i want it, wherever i want it...i am so lucky to have access to clean water whenever i want it, however i want it, wherever i want it...i am so lucky to never have to worry about clothing...i have more pairs of shoes than most people in the world have sets of clothes...i can either take a cab or take the university shuttle...the shuttle is just pulling up in front of my house...i'm here in plenty of time so i can sit and relax...maybe i can sleep on the train...the sun is rising...color, light and warmth return to the world...there's a rattling sound...i can't sleep...there's no new email...why would there be so early in the day?...i'll listen to music...as i close my eyes, i can feel the sunlight on my face...

I feel so blessed.

The rattling sound has ended. What could have eliminated it? It couldn't possibly come from me...I know it's true.

Keeping Some Perspective

During my most recent business trip, I stayed in a Hilton hotel. As I was checking out, someone in the line next to me was complaining about his free breakfast vouchers. Apparently, this individual is a Hilton Honors Diamond member so he has achieved the highest level of status within Hilton's frequent guest program. He was complaining that they had offered him only free continental breakfast vouchers. He wanted to verify that this offer was indeed their current policy before complaining to the manager.

I have experienced firsthand the effects of frequent traveler program attachment. So I speak as a recovering "elite" member, as someone who viewed special status as a way to validate myself.

By many estimates, about 20,000 children will die today as a result of malnutrition, starvation, dehydration, lack of access to water, treatable diseases, parental abuse or a host of other factors beyond their control. There is a famine taking place in Somalia at the moment though the only news agency that seems to notice is Al Jazeera. For these people, a free continental breakfast voucher would be more valuable than diamonds.

Through a TEDx presentation, Brene Brown offered touching insights about vulnerability. How suppressing our vulnerability is essentially suppressing our humanity and our ability to experience joy and connect with others. That we are worthy not despite our vulnerability but because of it.

And about the things we do or say when we deny our vulnerability -- like complaining about breakfast vouchers.

Smile for the Camera

I visited the American Visionary Arts Museum (AVAM) yesterday. My neurons are still firing. I spent a lot of time at their current exhibition "What Makes Us Smile" that featured an examination of the "architecture of joy." I read about "primitive" cultures that apparently begin arguments by laughing together so everyone is reminded of their shared bonds and common cause. Of course, "advanced" societies would never do something silly like that. Imagine a UN resolution that required all the factions in Libya to laugh with each other. Dropping bombs and firing cruise missiles is so much more effective.

While walking about the exhibition, I heard Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings, which seemed an odd choice. I discovered it is the soundtrack for a short film called "Where the Smiling Ends" by Andi Olsen. I was spellbound. Olsen's film captures the moments after people stop smiling while posing for photographs at Trevi Fountain in Rome. People from all over the planet. The vast majority of people stop smiling, lower their head, withdraw, or even look sad. There are exceptions of people who manage to maintain their smile and joy but most people seem to fade after the photograph of their smile has been captured.

I've heard it so many times: "Smile for the camera." Why? Will the camera be offended if I don't smile? Will you be offended if I don't smile? Will it ruin the photograph? Or the moment? What if I don't feel like smiling?

I found this post at eHow: How to Smile for the Camera.

While I find this post odd, I agree wholeheartedly with these two statements:

The secret is to be relaxed, honest and genuine.
Laugh with sincerity.

Which makes me wonder. How am I supposed to be relaxed, honest, genuine and sincere on demand? In fact, how am I supposed to be relaxed, honest, genuine and sincere at all?

I've had the great fortune and pleasure to visit Trevi Fountain. I don't know if I took any photographs in front of the fountain. What I do remember is sharing a gelato with my wife by the side of the fountain and hearing "In My Place" by Coldplay for the first time. Those are good memories, ones that bring a smile to my face even now. The smile relates to a person, a moment, not the place itself.

Joy is a feeling. A smile is a reflection of joy. I don't know how to describe an architecture of joy but Olsen's film reminds me that people from all cultures want to feel joy but struggle to hold onto it. But we need to understand this architecture and build from it. Instead of smiling for the camera, let's smile for each other. Because I believe a feeling of joy, a genuine smile and a laugh with sincerity are key ingredients to a relaxed interaction between people regardless of culture, language, or even religion.

As one of the signs at the exhibition stated:

"Our fifteen years of thematic exhibitions here at the American Visionary Art Museum can be distilled into one effort: To destroy the illusion that we are somehow over here, and the rest of the world over there."

Tabitha

Rest in Peace Tabitha.

You woke up my compassion at a time when I thought it was a weakness. You showed me compassion during one of my darkest hours. Ours was a classic case of asking who rescued whom.

I miss you.

Maya

Rest in Peace Maya.

You showed me that if you're unsure about what to do, it's a good idea to give someone you love a kiss. You taught me that I can't control or ration love. And that it comes unexpectedly in the form of a cold, wet, pink nose.

I miss you.

Beijing

Last September I was completely overwhelmed by Beijing. With only a week’s visit, I was immersed in horizon-broadening sights, sounds, smells and sensations. I shouldn’t be surprised given Beijing’s rich history, vibrant present and bright future. But Beijing was more disorienting – yet strangely comforting – than any place I have visited.

When I travel, I am not usually drawn to the well-known tourist destinations. I want to feel the pulse of a new, unfamiliar place. To see how people live. How they think. How they feel. I don’t resist the disorientation of culture shock because it releases me from my usual mindset. Even so, I still find myself looking for familiar references when I arrive at a new place. What was the first familiar sign at the airport? A Burberry advertisement.

Once on the road, I noted familiarity in the form of cars, some of them of the luxury kind. There’s definitely money in Beijing. And lots of cars. In roughly a decade, Beijing’s streets went from having one million cars to nearly four million cars. It’s one example of massive expansion. Driving in Beijing must be fun if you have a strong heart. No one seems to use seat belts or turn signals. It seems perfectly appropriate to not only flash your high beams at the driver in the front of you but to leave them on until the car moves out of the way. The horn appears to be a proxy for turn signals and Beijing drivers use them liberally. As I learned the hard way, pedestrians do not own the road. Crossing streets often requires an act of courage or faith.

Their road infrastructure may be stretched thin, but there are staggering amounts of investments in maintenance and development of new infrastructure. Even though there are clearly signs of planning, there is a certain flow that transcends any particular timeframe. Perhaps even a connectedness between generations or a realization that some things are beyond one’s control. Groups of people practicing Tai Chi in Tiananmen Square or references to dynasties rather than dates at the Forbidden City. The mention of Gregorian calendar years seems to be for those who seek specific references. During the opening session of the conference I attended, our hosts referred to the beginning of the harvest season within the Chinese lunar calendar. I recognized the reference to harvesting new relationships but I also wondered if it was a subtle reminder to the North American visitors that we weren’t in Kansas anymore. A sign at the Forbidden City captured this connectedness over time:

“A single act of carelessness leads to the eternal loss of beauty.”

The idea that our actions today could destroy the work of artisans from the past – some of whom spent an entire lifetime working on one piece of art – is a powerful reminder that those who came before us expected us to behave respectfully so that those who follow us can also appreciate their inspiration and creation. A work of art connects people across time.

Seeing the Forbidden City gives me something to bond over with other visitors to Beijing. I had hoped to find a way to bond with people who live in Beijing. I visited a bookstore where I saw several books by familiar names: Barack Obama, Dale Carnegie, Warren Buffet, LeBron James and Sarah Palin.

Yet when I looked at the bestsellers section, not a single Western author was to be found. All I could see were books in Mandarin without any familiar names or titles. So while the bookstore was filled with books I could recognize, was I really gaining insights into the interests or thoughts of the Chinese? Yet I could tell that people like visiting bookstores and sitting down to read books (though in this bookstore people were simply sitting on the floor – no comfy chairs or coffee bar in sight). Regardless of what people read, people like to read. People like to discover ideas or connect with other people through books.

This realization made me wonder even more about common bonds between people. Are there universal symbols, signs, ideas or feelings? Beijing is awash in corporate symbols ranging from the golden arches of McDonalds to the interlinked C’s of Chanel. Yet within the bookstore I couldn’t shake the feeling that these symbols were transient.

During my final day in Beijing, I debated whether to visit the Great Wall or to wander the city. I chose the latter, ending the day by visiting the Olympic Green. It was a windy day so there were several people selling or flying kites.

As I watched the kites flying in the wind, day gave way to twilight which gave way to evening. I had not noticed the steady stream of people who now filled the Olympic Park, many of whom were kids running about with a giddiness only children seem to exhibit. At one point, a soccer ball rolled my way so I kicked it back to the child who was chasing it. Before I knew it, I was kicking around a soccer ball with him and his parents.

I bought one of the kites and noticed another child watching me. I offered the kite to him. Initially, he reached for it until his parents said something in Mandarin. No moment made me wish more that I spoke Mandarin. I kept gesturing to the child with my kite and I eventually gave it to him. I smiled at him and nodded at his parents. Eventually they smiled and the boy ran off with the kite. Without speaking a word of Mandarin, I had made connections with two families.

And then it struck me.

I’ve travelled to many places throughout the world. I’ve yet to visit one where a smile or an act of kindness does not go a long way toward building goodwill.

Are we more drawn to corporate symbols and currency rates or smiles and acts of kindness? Which is more universal?

No scene captured this question of the universal more than an encounter on the Beijing subway. A Chinese couple and their incredibly cute baby boy stood close to me. While the father held his baby, he started to nibble on his son’s ear. His son beamed, smiled and laughed. He tilted his head toward his father inviting him to nibble some more. His mother lit up with joy. One of my friends once told me that there’s no greater joy for a mother than to hear her child laughing. The couple noticed my uncontrollable smile and made eye contact. Without saying a word, they acknowledged me and invited me to share in the moment. This scene could happen anywhere in the world and could bring together people from different worlds. There is no greater invitation than asking someone to share joy. Eventually, I thought it best to lower my gaze so that they could enjoy their moment as a family.

It was then that I noticed their baby was wearing Disney sandals.

Capitalism has washed over a flattened world. It remains to be seen if kindness will do the same.