The Illusion

There I was hunched over, sweat dripping off my forehead, dirt on my face and hands, mud caked on my shoes; among the beetles, worms, roots, sod, and soil. I never would've envisioned ditch digging would be in my future while sitting in the classrooms of Oregon State University. At that time I was in pursuit of a bachelor's degree in computer science; the key to the hi-tech promise land; to success; to all the wealth and riches that society has to offer. Not that I really ever asked myself if I wanted those things. Everyone else wanted them, so I assumed I wanted them too. I was wrong. Here I am years later, digging ditches. Some would call it ironic; others would call it a waste; I call it getting back to basics.

I had the key to the promise land. Graduation from OSU was followed by the next step of society's plan: getting a job. By today's standards it was a good one. I worked from home, made decent money, and set my own hours, but there was one unavoidable problem: I wasn't happy. I spent my days sitting at a desk, staring at a lifeless computer screen, and speaking a language designed more for machines than man - a language void of adjectives, void of color, void of life. My eyes, brain, and fingers were the only necessary components to this world of machines. Everything else sat in atrophy and decay. I was becoming just another piece of the machinery and didn't see how my job made any difference in the world.

Oh, I suppose the software I wrote briefly made life easier for some Information Technology (IT) managers. I wrote software that allowed them to make their computers run faster. The idea is that by making their system run faster, they gain an advantage over the competition. That is, of course, until the competition does the same thing. And the competition was always doing the same thing. The company I worked for made money by making sure they did.

"It's a dog eat dog world out there. Time is money. Our product will give you the upper edge over your competition."

The illusion is that this message isn't aimed at any one IT manager. It's aimed at all of them. It's aimed at the competition. It's aimed at all of us. And we believe it. That's why any brief moment of ease and advantage gained is quickly consumed by the endless search for the next competitive advantage. Over time, competition is a zero sum game.

In today's world of high finance and information technology, time is money. The IT manager's role is to speed things-up. The customer's role is to demand and reward businesses that speed things up. The advertising and marketing department's role is to convince the customers that they want things to speed-up. And the business manager's role is to realize all of this and make sure the IT managers, advertising/marketing executives, and everyone else realize it too. We're all just cogs in the wheel, pieces of the machinery. Life isn't getting easier, it's just getting faster.

I don't want to be part of the machinery and I don't want life to get faster - as if it's something to be rushed through. I want to experience life moment by moment. I want to cherish it; to feel the ground beneath my feet, the wind on my face, and the sun on my back. I want to sweat; to laugh; to cry. Because that's what's real. And all this other shit that we're getting caught-up in is just an illusion. I choose reality. Even if that means I have to dig ditches to do it.

This is the 2nd post based on my recent foray into the illustrious world of ditch digging - The Art of Ditch Digging was the first.

Tags: journal, philosophy

Snowbirds

Over the last few years my dad has been migrating between Oregon's Pacific coast in the summer and Arizona's Mojave desert in the winter. Not anymore. We just moved him down to Arizona where he'll reside permanently.

I've driven down (and up) with him before. He's the kind of guy that likes to get from point A to point B as fast as possible. Everything in between is just an obstacle to the final goal. That means no motels, few piss breaks, and no sightseeing. We just drive straight on through. One person drives while the other constantly shuffles around trying to find the best way to sleep in the passenger's side seat. Needless to say, the ride is usually long and uncomfortable.

This time the drive was better...

We left Oregon early Tuesday morning before the birds were greeting the day with songs, and the sun with warmth. We winded our way through Oregon's mountains; my dad in his beat-up GMC pick-up, and me in his Ford Escort wagon. It was a morning of contrast: momentary pockets of the clearest blue sky framed by a low ceiling of dense clouds and fog; fall trees of radiant yellow stood beside sober evergreens; and the yellow trees announced to all, "fall has arrived - rejoice" while the evergreens spoke of moderation and consistency.

Eventually Mt. Shasta, covered in a new coat of white, came into view - a scene of strength and power, pure and true. As I continued south I glanced in my mirror - Shasta stood proud. A half hour later, in my mirror, Shasta still stood tall. And a half hour after that, Shasta was still towering over everything in the distance - a beacon to everything around it, alive or dead. Its gravitational pull is undeniable - praise the mighty Shasta.

The mountains gave way to hills, the trees to bushes, and we continued on. The hills are beautiful in their own way, but they lack fortitude. Within no time they were gone and we were shooting straight through the flat, fertile valley of San Joaquin, America's agricultural champion - and all the irrigation, fertilizer, and cow shit to match.

We reached Sacramento just in time for rush hour - the American Dream in all its splendor. As the sun set and we continued our southern ascent, big SUV's whizzed on by doing 80-plus mph - these are the guys complaining loudest about gas prices. Didn't seem to be bothering them too much at the time. To display their patriotism each had a ribbon firmly attached to the bulking back of their gas guzzling vehicle: "Support our Soldiers". The word "contradiction" came to mind, quickly followed by the phrase "dumb asses."

By 10 PM we were checking into a motel 20 miles out of Bakersfield (two drivers + two vehicles = no possibility of passenger side sleeping). A warm breeze welcomed us with a feeling of peace. Man's natural habitat is definitely one of warmth. After a dinner of spicy refried beans on tostada shells and beer (we were in the Southwest after all), we crawled into our beds; the smell of clean sheets being my last conscious observation.

The next day we rose bright and early - my dad knows no other way. We made our way through Bakersfield - progress, California style - row after row of cookie-cutter houses where farms of Almond trees once stood. There will be a day when America no longer makes anything of real use - no food, no clothing, no love; a day when all of our real needs will be imported from elsewhere. In return we'll continue to export our knowledge: how to destroy the planet; how to create a overly competitive, neurotic society; how to put a price on everything under the sun all in the name of progress. Makes you proud to be American.

Soon enough we were away from all that, rolling along the vast and open desert of the Southwest. Blues and Johnny Cash go best with such spaces - songs of bar brawls, broken hearts, and whiskey. As much as I complain about America, I have yet to find a place with so much relatively undeveloped space - certainly not Europe, not Guatemala, maybe Mexico. Perhaps that's why I complain about it so much. I don't want to lose it, and we are losing it at a rate faster than can be imagined.

We arrived in the Colorado River valley that runs between Needles, California and Bullhead City, Arizona – our final destination. I no longer recognize this place from what it was just ten years ago. What was once a open valley with several small cities is now a sprawling concrete nightmare - big box stores, suburbs, and stop lights everywhere. Any area not already covered in concrete has a for sale sign on it. And all the signs say the same thing: greed. The valley, once open and free, is being cut-up, parceled out, bought out, sold out. America is up for sale. Buy now while limited supplies last.

Today my dad and I will head-up into mountains. I hope to find solace there in the solitude, warmth, and numerous bottles of cold beer.

Tags: journal, travel, environment

Poverty, Racism, and Economic Growth

This is the 4th post in a series.

My previous post (A History of Poverty and Racism) discussed the history of poverty and racism. It suggested that people are NOT poor because they're lazy and stupid. That simplistic view is a form of racism. Poverty takes place in a broader context of disparities in wealth due to a long history of racism, disparities in wealth due to current racist policies, low-self esteem, living in an unstable environment, and an over-dependence on government hand-outs. Therefore, the first and most important step to address poverty is to come from a place of understanding and compassion. With that foundation laid, we can now truly address poverty and racism.

The next step is to recognize the current economic system will not solve poverty. Many argue that economic growth is the solution. But we already have enough wealth to relieve poverty. The problem isn’t a shortage of wealth; the problem is an unjust and inefficient means of distributing it. Our economic system is not designed to relieve poverty. It never was. It is designed to make the rich richer, and that is what it does very well. According to the New York Times, "From 1980 to 2002… the share of total income earned by the top 0.1 percent of earners more than doubled, while the share earned by everyone else in the top 10 percent rose far less. The share of the bottom 90 percent declined." - the rich getting richer.

Our economic system is based on man’s selfish tendencies (Adam Smith’s invisible hand). It was not designed for equality and justice. Polices such as taxation and welfare are compassionate band-aids applied to a heartless body. They are policies meant to redistribute wealth in a more just, more equal fashion, because the system itself is unjust and unfair, but they will never solve poverty. To solve any problem, we must address its roots. The roots of poverty and racism are a system that focuses on and promotes man's negative traits, man's dark side; a system that promotes greed and selfishness. The solution to poverty and racism then is a system that promotes man's positive traits: compassion, generosity and understanding. Such a system will not require bureaucratic band-aids to solve poverty; its very foundation will address poverty. What we need is a new socio-politcal-economic system.

I do not underestimate the difficulty in achieving such a thing; it is huge undertaking. But it is the only solution. To address any problem we must address its roots. If we do not, we're only treating symptoms with short-term, feel-good solutions that will prove ineffective. The root of poverty and racism is, in part, the very system itself. We need a new system.

I don't have all the details on what this new system will look like or even how to get there, but I do have some. I have a vision and I'm not the only one. People all over the world are realizing that the current system is a sham and creating alternatives. It's being done as I type these words. My next post will focus on the environmental problems posed by the current system, and then I hope to devote my time on talking about solutions and the people already implementing them. It's time to turn that vision into a reality.

Tags: poverty, racism, economics, politics

The Art of Ditch Digging

Put a shovel in its hand and even a chimp can dig a ditch. That's what most people think. But how many of us have ever actually dug a ditch? How many of us really know what it takes? What it feels like? We call it unskilled labor, but even digging a ditch requires a certain amount of skill; a certain amount of knowledge. I should know; I just spent a week doing it.

Here's what I learned about digging ditches. It's not a job for everyone. You have to be in good physical condition. Even if you are, expect to be utterly exhausted for the first two days, but by that third day, your body will be whipped into shape - a fine, ditch digging machine.

Being in good shape is only one factor in your level of exhaustion. It also depends on your experience level - your skill level. It took me hours of wasted curses, sweat, and toil to realize there is a "right" way and "wrong" way to deal with tree roots. The right way is to take the time to clear the dirt around the root and get a good idea of what it actually looks like. Where is it coming from? Where is it going to? Does it branch off, suddenly dig down deep into the soil, or twist off at an unexpected angle? With that information in hand, only one to two swings of the axe are all that remains between you and that damned root. The wrong way is to assume you already know what the root looks like and start blindly swinging away.

Yep, even something as seemingly simple as digging a ditch requires some skill and knowledge, and provides plenty of opportunities for life lessons. You could even say there's an art to it. It's in knowing just how much umph to put behind a swing of the pick-axe. Too much and you'll waste precious energy on a clump of clay or sod that you could've removed with less. Too little and you'll be raising that heavy pick - getting heavier by the minute - over you head and swinging once again - more precious energy squandered. It's in knowing that removing just one slab of concrete that lies in your path will consume a lot more time and energy than you think; it's in knowing just where to smash the sledge hammer into that concrete, and in knowing when to use a pry-bar, pre-established cracks, and gravity to break-up large blocks instead of a continuous stream of body jarring blows with the sledge hammer.

Another thing about digging ditches is that it takes a whole lot of determination, and for that you've got to have the proper motivation. For some unfortunate souls, that may be money and basic survival. For me it was mostly wanting to get my hands dirty, to work up a good old fashioned sweat, and to feel my muscles ache at the end of the day. Of course, the money was a factor too - I sure as hell wouldn't have done it for free, but more than that, I was motivated by wanting that feeling of satisfied exhaustion at the end of the day that tells me I did a good day of hard work. You can't get that feeling sitting at a desk. You've got to be out there working with your hands. It's something you feel through your whole body. A feeling that says I kicked some serious ass today - the muscles are hard and the blood is pumping. It's something physical, something primal. It's what I was after and it's what I got.

So the next time you see somebody digging away, swinging an axe, or wielding a sledge hammer, stop a moment and reflect. There just might be more to that job than you realize. And maybe your job isn’t as great as you think. Maybe you’ve given-up something that you don’t even realize - something you’ve forgotten long ago. Maybe there’s something to be said for digging ditches.

Tags: journal, philosophy