General Topics
The image below is far more than a picture to me, it is an indelible image upon which I could never set a price.
Dannielle was three, and ran to me to gain protection from the arms of her uncle, who dared request a hug.
In my mind Dannielle’s expression is one of triumph, and also of daring her uncle approach and assault the fortress of her father’s arms. Instead of embarking on such folly, my brother was smart enough to take the picture – for which I am forever grateful.
Why does it seem that every time I hear someone talking about “Traditional American Values” what they are really doing is selling spin?
The phrase “Traditional American Values” is a leading statement designed to entice you into accepting something as truth. The speaker is more interested in selling you on how they want you to behave than they are in discussing history. You see, the truth of matters is that there is no such thing as Traditional American Values. This is not an opinion, it is a fact which I will illustrate in this post. Yesterday I tweeted
There is no such thing as “traditional American values”,
the USA is a cultural melting pot,
not a one pot kitchen that only cooks cabbage.— C.G.Ayling (@CGAyling) November 16, 2013
One of the essential truths I believe about the USA is that it is a social melting pot. I believe that the premise on which the USA grew to be a superpower is this: The USA cares naught about your origins, your culture, your religion, your gender, your race or any of the historical things that strive to mold you. What the USA cares about is who you have the potential to become. The USA cares about the real you, not about the you others would have you be.
In my opinion, that is how the USA should remain – more concerned with who individuals might grow to be than how their history has tried to shape them.
Must each of us abandon our heritage and the things we hold so dear? Absolutely not. I treasure my troubled past, and I hold my heritage in high esteem. My culture and family did shape me, however I now have a family of my own, and it is much more important than me.
The moral values I’ve developed had their origins in my past, and all of them are important to me. Yet I hold one of my values higher than any other, and that is this: Provided they do no harm, everyone is entitled to their own values.
And thus my taking exception to meaningless leading phrases like “Traditional American Values.” Precisely whose traditional values is the speaker attempting to impose on me? The Native Americans? The Eskimos? Perhaps the Apache, or maybe the Cheyenne, or any other unique tribe… for surely if anyone can be termed a Traditional American it is each and every one of these? They all are the true traditionals, and much more so than any immigrant which the majority of us are.
But no, that is not whose traditional values they are attempting to impose on us. The values they are attempting to impose on us, are theirs. Sorry, I am not buying since not only do I already have my own values but I think my values are of equal worth to yours, and yours, and yours as well.
So, the next time you hear someone say “Traditional American Values” you would be well advised to turn on your brain, pay close attention, and listen with a skeptical ear. The chance is good that what they’re about to tell you isn’t about values at all, but about them leading you by the nose onto their train of thought.
Personally, I don’t like people telling me how to think, I particularly don’t like being led by my nose, and I really don’t want to get onto anyone else’s train. For some reason the metaphor of trains just doesn’t sit well with me – it conjures visions of unwitting, innocent animals being shipped to the slaughter, and of tight-packed emaciated bodies en route to Auschwitz or Siberian Gulags.
“Traditional Values?” – you can keep yours, and I’ll keep mine. Or even better, let us start a dialog about our differences. Who knows, I might find some of your values to be better than the ones I already have and mix them in with mine.
Sounds a little like a melting pot, doesn’t it?
On one hand we’re required to make an endless series on judgments, yet on the other we face the societal ethic, “Judge not lest ye be judged.”
Judgment is such an emotive, contradictory word isn’t it? Here is a definition of judgment, “the ability to judge, make a decision, or form an opinion objectively, authoritatively, and wisely, especially in matters affecting action; good sense; discretion:…”
So what are we supposed to do? Let’s consider these contradictions.
Life absolutely requires us to make an almost endless series of judgments, in the form of minor decisions. We cannot choose to opt out of making these judgments, because if we don’t choose we simply cannot function. We face judgments constantly, and often without awareness or conscious thought. Little choices in which we weigh the relative merits and choose. Should I wear red or blue? Should I take one lump, or two. Should I speed up, or slow down? If this food safe for my family? Can I afford this? Should I answer this telephone call or text right away, or can it wait? Should I read Malmaxa, or go to bed early? The list is quite literally endless.
Some judgments need to be made, and if we don’t make them someone will suffer for our indecision. These judgments can be painful, but they must be made for moral, ethical, and safety reasons. You hear what you know to be a lie. You witness an assault. You witness a theft. You sit on a jury of your peers and have to decide the fate of a proven villain. Do I spend the remnants of my paycheck buying food for my family, or health insurance?
Some judgments are more judgmental than others. Why don’t we like that person? Exactly what about their statement angered us? Does their difference warrant our angst? Do they stand for something we abhor? Do we understand them, and perhaps more to the point – do we understand our own reaction to them?
The tweet below initiated a discussion on the nature of art. It also provoked this post, in which I’ll try and define, for myself, what art is. Yes, I know I’m tackling a touchy subject for some, but that’s never stopped me before so I don’t see why it should now.
If we paint with a broad brush,
we should not expect fine art.— C.G.Ayling (@CGAyling) October 27, 2013
Onward! The following are my views on the nature of art, you’re entirely free to disagree.
I’ve had many people tell me various things are art. If they don’t move me on some emotional level, then to me they are anything but art. I don’t care how smart, popular, or prolific the artist is. I don’t care how brilliant and renowned the critic attempting to coach me on the meaning of art might be, or might believe they are. If it doesn’t make me care, then it is not art, least not to me.
What art is not,
is easier than to grasp than what art is.
But art is not,
simply because someone says, "it is."— C.G.Ayling (@CGAyling) October 29, 2013
I know when I encounter art. It doesn’t matter what form art takes, I just know. And I think you all do too. There is something very special about real art that makes it easily recognized. I think each of us has favorite art forms. It might be music, painting, sculpture, poetry, or prose – what it is doesn’t matter so much as that it is. And when we see it, we feel it as well. If we don’t feel it, well then is it really art at all?
Can an artist prevent themselves creating art? I don’t think they can. Whatever their muse, if theirs is like mine, it wants out! It needs out. It will get out. And we, the appreciators of their creativity, will be the richer for their muse’s escape. Do artists release their muse for money? If I sold mine, I don’t think it would ever return. Am I saying artists shouldn’t make a living from their art? Hard question, that. I don’t think I am.
It might be bold, it might be brave, art might be bigoted, or free, but one of the things that art never is to me, is arrogant. I’ve never gazed on a piece of art and felt it looking down on me. Critics? Another story entirely. Artists? Those few I’ve met have never been arrogant, indeed they have been as close to arrogance’s opposite as I can imagine. The word? Humble. Perhaps humble people are more willing to bleed, and what is art if not a soul’s essence, reformed?
Can there be such a thing as accidental art? I firmly believe there cannot. Yes, within nature are many beautiful, wonderful things, but art is more than that, and sometimes art is neither of those things. Something essential about the nature of art is that it is created with deliberate intent to evoke emotion. By extension nature does not create art. Nature creates things with an intent of life, not of emotion. However, whatever art is, art invariably has soul. Soul comes from the living, and to be released from its holder requires a conscious decision by the artist. Art requires effort. Art, it don’t come easy…
Said it already, but I’ll say it again. Humble. Humility is not feigned. The “artists” I’ve encountered who break this pattern are invariably the ones who need to explain their art. Usually in a condescending manner expressing amazement we cannot perceive the magnificence of the emperor’s new clothes {reference intended}.
We get it, and it grabs us, or it isn’t art.
Even the most prolific sometimes simply can’t. Do you doubt me? If you do {and who in their right mind would not}, then reflect on this next sentence. If everything an artist creates is art, then the world’s sewage systems are treasure troves.
And that, is a tiny piece of what art is, to me.
{With the post completed, I’d like to mention how the tweet that started this wasn’t referring to art, per se. It was about how willing we are to apply broad labels to individuals.
I write. Tweets, thoughts, obscure thoughts, even a couple of books. I don’t consider what I do art, but it’s as close as I can come to creation. Browse around my blog, read some samples of my work, who knows my words might touch you, and if they do… they’re art, least they are, to you.}
Magic of demise is misting the air here, drifting into the life of all around, poisoning it.
All those who bear the marks will be forgiven.
Living a lie, yes most are.
Memories are warped by the color of their jewels.
Apprehension felt by the young waiting for their skin to be carved along with their fate.
Xenophobic Men killing for nothing but hate.
Although there is bad in this world of mine,
I see there is someone great
slicing through the dark to avenge my kin and to spread the
light.
This is my final word.
{Tonight my daughter Julia asked me to read her poem, and see if I knew what it meant. It appears above, verbatim. Julia first read Beltamar’s War at about age ten, she is about to read it again, but I think she grasped it quite well on her first pass.}
In Twitter I’ve seen innumerable people saying a “proper retweet” is done by prepending “RT” to whatever the person you’re retweeting said.
No.
Perhaps that was true before the advent of Twitter’s embedded “Retweet” links, but no longer. A proper retweet is performed by clicking Retweet. Including “RT” in the words you’ve just ripped from someone else’s timeline is not proper at all. Indeed, it’s like placing a use tax on your generosity.
Taxed generosity isn’t generosity at all.
Perhaps if manually RT’ing took less effort than clicking “Retweet”…? The point is moot, since manually RT’ing takes significantly more effort than clicking the retweet link. Worse, manually RT’ing corrupts the words – they never remain exactly same as they were when said. Even if you keep every word and every piece of punctuation, a manual RT never looks precisely the same as the original – and most manual RT’ers don’t bother because it takes too much effort. To me this proves they’re only interested in forcefully injecting their name into the conversation.
Recently Twitter added a great feature. On the “Interactions” page of your profile you now get informed every time someone favorites or retweets something you’ve retweeted. Twitter does that when you retweet the “real proper” way – with “Favorite” or “Retweet”. What an awesome feature – now you know just how far your charity {and your influence} goes. And best of all, it really is charity – because only you know of the good deed you’ve done.
I’ve also seen it said that using “RT” allows you to add a comment to the thread {which is truly bizarre since there is a link called “Reply” specifically for that purpose}. It doesn’t add content, it hijacks the conversation by forcibly inserting something completely superfluous into it, namely your “look at me, look at me” @handle. What if you add your “RT” in a legitimate reply to the thread? Read what I’ve already said about taxing your generosity.
“RT” is not a stamp of approval on a Tweet, it is a stamp of “I was here!” A manual “RT” has become another form of obnoxious graffiti in the virtual world.
Don’t get me wrong. When graffiti is art, I approve. In fact, my Twitter timeline is covered with that type of unadulterated virtual art – they’re called Tweets.
So am I saying I never use “RT”? No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I manually “RT”, but only under two circumstances I’ve found so far.
The first is when I want to repeat something a private account holder said. Tweets from locked, or private, accounts don’t have a retweet link. In order to grant attribution I have no option but to place my “I was here!” stamp on their words.
The second circumstance is when they never actually tweeted the words, but they did say them. For example, words from their Twitter profile.
Which brings me to the issue of plagiarism. Perhaps people think stealing another person’s words is a “no injury” crime. It isn’t. Regardless of monetary value, authors, writers, and everyday people should receive credit for their contributions to the written word.
To me, the written word is the highest form of art.
Words can make us laugh, or cry. Words can fill our mind with images of things that cannot be. Words can make our heart feel light, or they can crush it in a vice. Words are the foundation upon which deeds are built. More than any other art, words literally change the world.
No decent person would ever steal a piece of music and claim they composed it. No decent person would duplicate a picture and claim they painted it. No decent person would make a mold of a sculpture, recast it, and claim they chiseled it from their heart. No decent person would tear a page from the most sacred texts and claim they wrote it.
No decent person steals another person’s words and claims them as their own inspired thoughts, penned to paper of a real or virtual nature. Call this by a fancy word like “plagiarism” if you like – I call it exactly what it is.
Theft.
Decent people don’t steal. {Well, certain circumstances might force decent people to steal. However, the operative word in that sentence is “force”.}
Look at the example below, and tell me if this is an accident. Perhaps a rare wind of inspiration blew on two people at almost the same time. Before you decide, peer close at the thumbnails in the upper part of the image. In order to spare them embarrassment, I’ve blocked the person’s name from the image. If they have a conscience, it should goad them to change their ways. If not, well I might remove the blocks and see if that plants the seeds of conscience.
Don’t misunderstand me. Inspiration is quite literally everywhere, and I would deny it to no one. Do I never re-frame another person’s thoughts? Of course I do. However, the words I use are my own, and they are often contrary to the inspiring thought. {Such is my nature, for which I am not sorry.} If my words inspire you to creativity then go for it, and more power to you – I am truly delighted when I see signs of this. However if my words touch you in some way, and you wish to share them, then please grant me that which I grant every borrowed sentence I use – attribution.
Thank you.
Our beloved daughter Julia sent me the image below.
The wording down the image’s side is a quote from my work, Malmaxa.
While writing the first book in the series, Beltamar’s War, I asked each of my children how they envisaged their marks. My interpretation of Julia’s description appears below, personally rendered into art that strives to emulate the words used to capture a mental image of her dream.
Some say, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” I don’t hold this to be true, there are many things a picture cannot capture, yet words can. Thoughts take this to another level entirely – they are elusive and hard to depict in either image, or word, yet artists manage.
Were you in Malmaxa, how would your marks of family appear?
Would you wear their symbols etched upon on your flesh, or in your heart?
A few days ago I realized something I intuitively understood when I was very young, yet somehow managed to forget. Or perhaps more likely, the grindstone of life gradually wore those memories away. That sudden intuition unlocked the memory of my former knowledge, a strange sort of Déjà vu that prompted a condensed version of this post.
Where look the wise,
to their feet,
or to the skies?
Seek heaven everywhere,
in the earth,
and in the air.— C.G.Ayling (@CGAyling) September 24, 2013
What I’m talking about, is unity.
When still a toddler I knew the world was alive, and the sun, the stars and moon, and every comet too. Everything I saw, and all the things too tiny for me to see, or too vast to comprehend was one. No division of ground and sky, of living and not alive, of heaven and earth. Those divisions all came later, and as I learnt them, I forgot the truer knowledge of unity.
Unity… In another word, oneness.
How do we forget that we are one with nature? How have we forgotten that the world on which we dwell is a sibling to the other planets, which in their turn form a single solar body? See beyond the limits of your eyes and you will see that we are one – one, with the sun itself. Then gaze further, into infinity itself – realization soon comes that our sun, in unity with a myriad other stars, forms a singular galaxy. Open your mind still further, and comprehension comes that our galaxy combines with billions of others to form a single universe.
Everything that is, is one.
We are, therefore we are one.
If you’re still here…
{Believe me – I understand fully if you left a while back. Until a few days ago, I’d have done as I’ve somehow been taught… I’d have snorted derisively and thought, “Metaphysical gobble-de-gook.” That thought would have closed my mind and led my attention elsewhere.}
… if you’re still here, you might be interested to know the circumstances in which this revelation came. I shared this with a confidante on Twitter, however I know she won’t mind my disclosing parts of our conversation. {How do I know that? I’m confident you’ll figure it out soon, if you have not already.}
Anyway…
Feeling trapped in a bad place in my life, I sat down and cradled my head in my hands. That motion caused me to gaze downward, downward at the inanimate tile beneath my feet.
When things seem terrible, it’s good – for better times must come.
Within that inanimate tile, I perceived a face. A living face cast in stone. As I looked into its eyes, they looked into mine.
In that instant I realized we are all connected. Not just that stony face and me, but all of us. All, of everything.
Soul is not only of the living, it is of all, it encompasses us completely and permeates everything. Yet we don’t see it. I wonder how we lost that capacity? By closing our hearts to things we think don’t directly affect us?
How foolish is that?
Everything affects us, and everything affects everything else.
We are not and cannot be alone.
However, we’re alive, and stone is not. But stone is from where we come, and to whence we will return. And that stone? From dust it came, and to dust it will return. And the dust? That dust once coalesced from space. And space? Space is not as empty as we think, for space bonds planets to their sun, suns into galaxies, galaxies into the universe we know, and perhaps the universe we know is not as limited as we make it seem.
Within us lie enormous quantities of empty space, in the eerily similar downward spiraling scale of size. How can that be? And what do I mean by “eerily similar”?
We’re alive! We’re not inanimate matter floating through empty space!
How certain are we of those assertions? Look deeper than the surface using a magnifying scale and you’ll see. Rivers flow through our veins, they empty into the lakes of our hearts and our sinuses. Air seamlessly traverses the walls of our lungs, bonds with the iron in our blood, and is transported throughout our system where it is released only to be recaptured and returned to our lungs where it is exhaled as carbon dioxide, a product the trees consume. Within us, within our actual physical bodies, air and water are everywhere.
Now increase the scale of magnification a million fold and look at molecules flowing through the murky soup that is…? Well, that soup is “us”.
A million fold again, or some number undefined, and unknown, least to me, and the atoms we are come into view. Those atoms are our inner solar systems. Their nuclei are as powerful as suns, and their electrons are their planets. Measured on such a scale, the empty space between our component atoms is as vast as the distances of our universe.
We are one.
Without the elements that comprise the universe we are nothing.
And that so-called “empty space”, either the monstrous, or the miniscule and minute?
Why, that is our soul.
Formed from the dust of dead stars, we are.#thought
— C.G.Ayling (@CGAyling) May 22, 2013
May you find peace.
I hope you enjoyed this post. If you did, please sample Beltamar’s War, which I can promise you it is like nothing you have ever read. I would really appreciate your support.
At about the age of six I attended a wedding. Everything went fine until the minister introduced the newlyweds as Mr. and Mrs. Johnson – shocked, I realized this lovely woman had relinquished her name and assumed that of her husband. The disquiet that realization brought is literally the only thing I recall about that incident, I don’t even remember the couple’s last name.
Fast forward around half a century to a few days ago when my youngest daughter proudly informed me, “Dad, when I get married my husband will take my last name or it’s a deal breaker.” Both her older sisters had already informed me of similar sentiments. The oldest is married and did indeed retain her maiden name.
Be that as it may, the final goad to me writing this post came at 3am this morning when I read the tweet below:-
@CGAyling C.G., just bought your first book on Kindle twice. I was signed in to amazon as my hubby. Different last names and accounts. HA
— Deborah A. Bowman (@Bowmanauthor) September 17, 2013
It reads, “C.G., just bought your first book on Kindle twice. I was signed in to amazon as my hubby. Different last names and accounts. HA”
I replied to her tweet, and after resolving the crisis for which my slumber had been disturbed went back to bed brooding on the matter. Anyway, the questions I framed so long ago still trouble me today. I share them below.
Why must the woman give up her name, as opposed to the man giving up his?
I understand the desire to merge, but if that merger’s cost is that one relinquishes their identity then surely the other should also relinquish theirs?
As far as the logic, “It has always been this way.” Well, all that proves is that always is often wrong.
Am I proposing change? Yes. Each of us is an individual. By the time we are old enough to marry we have spent substantial effort becoming who we are. Our name is an element of our personality. Are you keen to give yours away, or to force your partner to give up theirs?
I know I’m not, and that I never have been. I can’t recall for certain, but I’m pretty sure that I asked my wife if she wanted to change her last name to match mine. I don’t remember her answer, but she now has my last name. Did I steal something priceless from her? Did I take an essential element of her, and unwittingly discard it?
I think that I did… But I don’t know if I can ever give it back.
Before we begin let me acknowledge that “Alternity” isn’t actually a word. Prompted by recent conversation on my Twitter timeline about truth, I made it up this morning.
So, what is my intended use for the word?
Truth is not an absolute. Indeed does truth even exist at all? Since I personally see it everywhere I look, I am inclined to believe it does. However, truth is a very human thing. And like humans, who are all unique, truth varies according to the person who perceives it.
In explanation, here is one of the tweets in question.
My truths, in my words,
your truths may vary,
and that's OK,
for the only truth I've learned of truth,
is that truth
is never absolute.— C.G.Ayling (@CGAyling) September 15, 2013
It reads, “My truths, in my words, your truths may vary, and that’s OK, for the only truth I’ve learned of truth, is that truth is never absolute.”
So how does one capture their intent when existing words simply are inadequate to succinctly convey the concept? Perhaps by doing what has been done since time immemorial, and combining other words involved in the concept into a new word. Thus, “Alternity.”
The root words involved include the following, along with my interpretation of each {How sad is it when we must interpret our own language? Not sad at all, for therein lies great pleasure.}
Alternative. Not the same as yours, not explicitly better or worse – merely different.
Eternity. If truth is absolute, it must exist forever. Yet I believe there are no absolutes, so truth cannot exist for eternity. A nice conundrum {If you follow me on Twitter you’ll know I am particularly fond of those.}
Diversity. This isn’t actually the word I really want, but it comes closest.
Reality. To me, my view of truth seems real. You might well consider my views as either outright lies, or only partially true. Another tweet captures my convictions on the sentiment of partial truths.
A partial truth,
is also a partial lie.— C.G.Ayling (@CGAyling) August 31, 2013
It reads, “A partial truth, is also a partial lie.”
My intent with that tweet was to highlight another conundrum, namely that the commonly held view of truth being absolute is itself an absolute lie {and from someone who doesn’t believe in absolutes… well, I’m sure you get the idea.}
There are other words I’d like to incorporate into alternity, unfortunately they don’t exist, except within my thoughts {Like you, within my mind I am free and unfettered by constraints imposed by written and spoken language.} Like alternity, those insubstantial thoughts aren’t really words at all, just a substantial belief that without diversity we are doomed. With that I’ll leave you with the tweet that inspired this post.
Embrace alternity.
{Since sometimes the words we have simply won't do,
I made up one that does.}— C.G.Ayling (@CGAyling) September 17, 2013
It reads, “Embrace alternity. {Since sometimes the words we have simply won’t do, I made up one that does.}”
Overall, I’m rather pleased with the result – “alternity”, a word that combines multiple very complex concepts into something so intuitive virtually anyone can understand it. Naturally you’re entirely free to disagree with any or all of this, indeed I encourage you to do so. After all, those who question learn, while those who don’t remain the same.
If you enjoyed reading this muddled bit of philosophy I encourage you to check out my work Malmaxa – although framed in fantasy, it’s a longer philosophical journey.
{PS. While I was composing this post Imogen Forster kindly pointed out that this created word, was in fact already created, and utilized in the title of a published work called From Here to Alternity. Though I intend to read it, until I read Imogen’s tweet I was unaware of it.}