Defining Greed

Recently, I developed a perception of how many Americans, particularly right-wing Americans, look at greed. Just last night I had my perception confirmed. I think it’s simple and pretty obvious, but we have to make these things clear if we’re ever going to deal with them.

I read an article in the New York Times about some multi-millionaire hedge fund manager who has been on a buying binge. New houses, a painting by Picasso, etc. I and a bunch of others saw him as being an example of the grotesque excess that characterizes those with obscene amounts of wealth today. One person suggested in a comment on the article that it would be a good thing to be able to confiscate some of that wealth. A reader responded to that, saying:

“By what right would you or anyone confiscate the property of another? And how would you decide what is ‘excess’?”

I felt like responding to the response and, in a slightly prickly mood, I wrote:

“In a sane world excess is taking more than you need to live a decent life. Let’s amend the constitution if need be.”

This motivated yet another reader to respond to me:

“Mark, your ‘sane world,’ where those who work to earn are ‘takers,’ must be one heck of a horror show.”

My response, which I’m making only here, is that we are already living in a horror show. And it’s largely because of those “earners.” This is right at the heart of my perception. They say it’s not greed if you’ve earned it. But greed is, precisely, working to obtain great wealth. Morally, no one is entitled to go after as much as they can “earn.” “Earn” is a self-deceptive term here. If you insert the word “get,” the meaning changes. And it’s more honest. You cannot earn a billion dollars. Invariably, someone will ask, “So, how much do you think one should morally be able to earn?” I think enough to make a living, but not a killing.

The Fracking Kali Yuga

Not too long ago, the term “Kali Yuga” came up. I don’t remember why or how. I knew that Kali Yuga is an Indian religious concept, that a “Yuga” is an era or age, and that the Kali Yuga is the demonic age. But I wanted a little deeper understanding, so I did a search. The first link I hit defined it as “The present age,” which made me laugh. ‘Twas rueful laughter. I don’t know that I believe we’re in the Kali Yuga. Very often this type of thing is symbolism or myth, a way of talking about certain ideas. And sometimes they’re just superstition. But last night I saw a movie that made me think that, if there is such a thing, we might be in the Kali Yuga now.

The movie was Gasland, a documentary about fracking. (I know it’s already made the rounds, but I seldom see films.) If you’ve never seen it, you ought to. It’s one of those films about something bad happening in the world that is extremely discouraging. But the filmmaker, Josh Fox, has a good sense of humor, which made the film bearable. In a nutshell, the film says that while in office, Dick Cheney (in my opinion one of the most detestable men in American history) saw to the passage of a law that gets the gas companies off the hook for any environmental damage caused by fracking. The gas companies are clearly causing a great deal of harm to people, to the land, and to animals. Their indifference to the damage is demonic. They’ve been going to great lengths to make the film seem “controversial.” I can’t argue the science. I’ve never been that attracted to scientific learning. But I know liars and sellouts when I hear them, and the gas companies are clearly being defended by liars and sellouts. The government is not doing a thing to stop what’s going on. They either pretend it’s not happening or they actively assist the gas companies. I recommend the film to anyone who doesn’t know much about this whole fracking business. I had no idea how developed and wide spread it was.

A Thought I Had While Sitting In Moonlight

I’m back out on Santa Barbara Island. Last night around midnight, I went outside to sit and listen and watch. I  heard sea lions barking, waves crashing against the cliffs, the peeping of some species of seabird, and the banging of the flagpole rope against the pole. I saw the stars, the moon, the reflection of the moon upon the ocean, and forty miles away the dim glow of Los Angeles. I thought to myself, “I ought to try to write a poem.” And then I thought, “Naw. Nobody reads poetry anymore. Poetry is dying.” A terrible thought, really, and I had to think about that for a little while.

What is poetry? When it functions correctly, it’s a people’s expression of its deepest convictions and insights. The universe has a constant poetry going that sometimes we see in the form of coincidence. Not accident, but coincidence—where things mysteriously coincide, that is, the workings of karma. Those levels are always there. So, poetry, or the poetic, never dies, but a people’s awareness of it can. We can lose our convictions and insights. If no one is paying any attention to poetry in America these days (perhaps you could even say the modern world), I have to think that it’s the culture that’s dying, not poetry.

This Creepy Election

I haven’t been writing about the election. I find the level of debate extraordinarily discouraging, which reflects, I think, a certain naïveté on my part. For years, I’ve been watching the intelligence of the American people go downhill. What’s there to be shocked about? When you have this kind of worship of celebrity and wealth—classic decadent empire—it’s to be expected.  Self-government requires intelligence and engagement. We’re facing some extremely serious issues, none of which are being addressed. One example is human-caused climate change, which most scientists seem to agree does exist. Not to discuss it is crazy and dangerous. But neither candidate dares to touch it. Another example is the economy. It’s discussed, but not the real underlying problem. The truth is that we’re seeing the end of a fantasy belief, that of constant economic growth for generation after generation. It was always a logical fallacy, an utter impossibility. Neither candidate can save the economy—at least not the old-style economy that we’re used to. We’re entering a new era and we need to start looking at it realistically. Does Obama need to lose so that Romney can demonstrate that the Republicans’ ideas won’t work either? I have little doubt that if either candidate told the truth about what’s really going on, the people—who claim to want their politicians to tell them the truth—would turn on him. So democracy—self-government—is failing in America. If it were working it wouldn’t matter how much money any particular candidate raised. People would have seriously studied the issues and would judge a candidate on the clarity and truth of his or her ideas, not on their ad campaigns. Money would be irrelevant. I blame much of our current state on computers and the Internet. We have not gotten any smarter since their introduction. To the contrary. (I’ll be writing more about this in the future.)

In any case, I’ve already voted, and I voted for Obama. I have to wonder if the worst happens and Romney does win, will the Republicans, given the last four years, be so hypocritical as to demand national unity? I’m sure they will. All the old insanity, all the old lines like “why do you hate America?,” and talk of non-Republicans being treasonous will once again tiresomely fill the air. Our only solution is to step back and take a non-ideological, objective-as-possible look at who we are and what we believe. What we believe must correspond to what is true, not what we’d like to be true. We can still do it. It may take another economic crash and a few more monster storms, but we can still do it. It’s not too late.

Poem #87 from Cold Mountain (Han Shan)

A greedy man who piles up wealth

is like an owl who loves her chicks

the chicks grow up and eat their mother

wealth eventually swallows its owner

spread it around and blessings grow

hoard it and disaster arises

no wealth no disaster

flap your wings in the blue

Translation by Red Pine

The Leap of Faith

Sunday I was reading the news and came upon a link to watch the live video feed of the skydive from 24 miles up by Felix Baumgartner. I’m generally negative toward this kind of event, seeing it as little more than kitschy spectacle. The silly “mission control” set reinforced my feeling. Nevertheless, I got pulled in and I stayed to watch. I realize that the man had put a lot into this effort and was risking his life. But if he’d died, I believe that it would have been for nothing. I respected him for admitting his fear afterward. I could hear it in his voice on the way up. He said that it was much more difficult than he’d expected.

The one moment that really grabbed me was the one in which he jumped. Later, I was thinking of the image: a man standing against the backdrop of the cosmos and taking a great leap. As I’ve come to understand it, it describes what the sage does when he seeks enlightenment: He climbs as high as he can with his reason until there comes the moment that his thought won’t take him any higher. Then he has to let go of everything and take a great leap into the unknown. This is what Buddha, Christ, Lao Tzu, and all the other true sages accomplished. One big difference between Baumgartner’s leap and the leap of the sage is that the sage can’t get into position to make the leap unless he or she is willing to do it for all of humanity. It’s not a personal show or the act of a daredevil.

I think that ultimately we all have to take that same leap at the moment we die. Reading the spiritual books, it becomes apparent that, for some reason, it’s regarded as a noble thing to do before one’s actual death. Few ever consider attempting it, though—especially in this era of materialism.

The Land of Unlimited Opportunity

I’m currently reading a book called Subversives: The FBI’s War on Student Radicals, and Reagan’s Rise to Power by Seth Rosenfeld. It’s a very good book, an interesting book; but the subject of this post is not the book itself. The subject is an elaboration on something that I read within it, something that deals with a subject I’ve been meaning for some time now to dwell on: money.

The author of Subversives quotes Reagan’s autobiography, Where’s the Rest of Me?, as saying that growing up in Dixon, Illinois had taught Reagan that “America was a place that offered unlimited opportunity to those who did hard work.” This is, of course, a  commonly held sentiment in the United States. For most people, not to believe in this idea makes you some kind of a Socialist or a bum. Probably both. What’s to argue with? Hard work is a good thing. Unlimited opportunity is a good thing. Well, I have plenty of arguments, and on several levels. But here, I’m going to tackle it from just one level because it’s an idea that is seldom raised.

What did Reagan mean by “unlimited opportunity?” I think he meant to make as much money as you can. The sky’s the limit! Opportunity can mean other things—the opportunity to be in a position of power, the opportunity to be famous—but I think most people understand it to mean getting rich. (Let it be said: all three qualities—power, fame, and wealth—are negatives.) Working hard to obtain unlimited opportunity is really just putting a nice shine on greed. People say, “It’s not greed if you earned it.” But making an effort to obtain more stuff than you need is the definition of greed.

My fundamental opposition is the assumption that we should spend all our lives working hard to obtain “stuff.” That’s not what life is about. A certain amount of labor is necessary, of course. The Buddhists have a term I like: Right Livelihood. It means that the work you do for your survival should be seamless with your inner life and contribute to the healthy maintenance of the world around you. But it is, of course, very difficult to find that kind of work nowadays. Society is structured to keep us working at essentially meaningless jobs that benefit only the powerful. A lot of these jobs, if not most, are destructive to the general well-being.

So, if life is not about making money, what’s it about? I believe it’s about the development of the inner self, the solving of the riddles of Life. Most Americans are uncomfortable with this idea. They consider it foreign or New Agey. But, it’s not. It’s in our bones—which is to say, it’s universal and it’s ancient. It’s what Buddha and Lao Tzu and Jesus and all the other true sages taught. (What distinguishes New Age “philosophies” from what’s true is the level of work. Most New Age stuff is about getting relaxed, taking it easy, whereas the real stuff is hard work.) A lot of people believe we can never really understand life—except through science maybe. But the older I get, the more I believe that this kind of understanding—a spiritual understanding, I mean—is possible. To attain it has to be the most rewarding and fulfilling thing one can do. It offers so much relief—relief from the nagging, painful puzzles that constantly wear us down. But the only way we can achieve this kind of understanding is by getting rid of the idea that having lots of money is a good thing. That’s going to be hard to do; but at some point, this way of life will go. It’s become so debilitating that it will collapse of its own accord. It’s harmful even to the rich. (No one really gains anything from being rich. And the rich man is never prepared to die. He finds the moment of death utterly terrifying.)

I know this will sound extreme to some people. But I also know that a lot of people who read me have similar views. The questions are always the same, though: What do we do about it? How do we change this system? And if we can change it, what do we replace it with? I hope to write about my own take on some of these questions in the not-too-distant future.

Another Take on Freedom (Life’s Little Ironies)

One day back in the mid-to-late 1980s, I met an emigre couple from the Soviet Union. Having studied the Russian language in high school, I took a special interest in them. I don’t remember the details of their situation, other than that they’d become deeply dissatisfied with life in Russia and had gone to great lengths to come to the United States. When I asked them how they liked their new lives  in America, they looked at each other nervously, their eyes clearly saying, “Dare we answer him honestly?” I assured them they couldn’t possibly tell me anything that would upset me. This was the Reagan era, and I was profoundly disgusted with my country. After much reluctance on their part and much encouragement on my part, they finally managed to stammer out, “It’s so unfree here.” Not what I expected to hear! I laughed out of surprise and some confusion. I asked them to explain. They said that in the Soviet Union they could go wherever they wanted, that they could just start walking across the earth in any direction without restriction, save for, I assume, military bases and the like. But here, they were constantly encountering “no trespassing” signs and other private property issues. They said they felt like cattle being herded through a set of narrow chutes. I have never forgotten their perspective.

Freedom

One of the greatest difficulties in finding agreement on what to do about the problems facing this country is our idea of “freedom.” The great majority of Americans have the simplistic idea of freedom meaning “I can do whatever I want to do”—some adding “as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.” In practice, “I can do whatever I want to do” really means “I can do whatever my ego wants to do.” And that’s not freedom. That’s slavery—to your ego. The ego is wild and doesn’t give a damn about others. It wants what it wants and it wants it right now. I’m familiar with this territory. When I left home my aim was to be free to do whatever I wanted. And I pursued that goal for several years—into a great, lonely emptiness. Fortunately, I was also interested in what is true.

At this point in my life I see freedom as being free from delusion and uncontrolled desire. You have to have that interior freedom before you can really be free in the world. A man who keeps shooting up dope because he can’t make himself stop is a slave. And I think a lot of what we do in our day-to-day lives is much the same as what that dope addict is doing. Each of us is unique and we have to be who we are. But I also believe that the universe is a cosmos and when you be who you really are, you’re brought into community with others being who they really are. We’ve got to junk this idea of each of us having our own stuff, that we’re entitled to all this stuff because we worked for it. The earth can’t take it anymore. Humanity can’t take it anymore. We have to find a collectivity that is graceful and true. It can’t be enforced from the outside; it has to come from the inside. But we do have to find it. We’ll do ourselves in if we don’t. And that’s the truth.

Progress Report #81

Yesterday I finished the first pass through Draft 2, Chapter 34. Tomorrow I start a second pass through the chapter to clean it up. That’ll take most of the week. Then I need to edit the outline so that it conforms to the finished version. After that, I’ll work on Chapter 35, which will be a commentary on the events in the book from the perspective of 24 years later. I think there will be such a chapter in the final version of the book and I want to explore how it might go. But I’m not going to sweat over it. Once I’ve let go of Chapter 35, the second draft is done, done, done. Four and a half years!

When I was writing The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill I knew all along that Street Song was going to be my next book—if there was a next book. But I haven’t been sure what book, if any, I will write after this one. I’ve had one recurring idea, and this week I found myself creating some research files. The book would be about the unique neighborhood I live in. (It’s the same one you see in the parrot movie.) The overarching theme would be how magic is undermined and destroyed by people with money. I’ve seen this happen over and over again. It’s the curse of this nation. How can we have a good life if the good life cannot find a place to take root and grow? I would spend most of the book establishing and depicting the neighborhood’s original magic, which goes back seventy-five years. I’ll be able to tell some parrot stories that didn’t fit into my first book. I have a title in mind, but I’m not going to put that out yet. It wouldn’t take me nearly so long to write this book. At the moment, though, it’s just an idea. My focus is on Street Song.