Culture, History and Language

For several years I collected books on religion. Whichever religion had intrigued me at the time, I had collected books on it. Over the years I amassed quite a library of books on religion, particularly, but not exclusively, Buddhism, Islam, Christianity (especially Mysticism), Judaism (especially Kabbalah), and Paganism. I had not come close to reading all the books I collected. I figured books were investments in the future, and that I would be reading and studying these books for years.

Then suddenly this past summer I woke up to realize that I did not know whether or not God exists, and that I would never know for sure one way or the other, and that I did not have the will nor the wherewithal to make myself have faith in God. I acknowledged my own agnosticism. And my interest in religion (insofar as I was trying to figure out the meaning of life) plummeted. All these books I'd amassed to help me study and understand the meaning of life no longer had that value for me.

This realization not only shifted my emphasis for my library, but shook my confidence in my studies. For a while there I really didn't know what to study. I tried studying philosophy for a while, to continue to search for meaning in life. But I rather quickly realized that any meaning my life would have would have to be made (rather than discovered) by me. Philosophy is still of interest, but it no longer is an indispensable study for me.

I decided I needed to find an emphasis for reading and study.

This weekend I realized that what interests me far above all else is the combined studies of History and Culture. History without Culture is merely a recitation of a series of events; Culture without History is merely an attempt to freeze life into a museum exhibit. Neither works without the other. My insight came from reading a very good book on the Cherokee ball game, anetso. Anetso is a cousin of lacrosse, and the author examines the history, culture and religion surrounding anetso's practice and exhibition. But one interesting point he makes is that Westerners tend to study European and Euro-American religions historically, while they tend to study non-European religions culturally (and therefore ahistorically). In other words, the study of religion in Europe is part of the fabric of European history; however, outside of Europe (and European America) it is viewed as the province of Anthropology, and thus more related to an attempt to see it statically, as part of a museum exhibit.

To remedy this all around, I feel that whether I'm studying religion, sports, the media or whatever, I would do well to view it as a study of Culture and History. In truth, one does not exist independent of the other.

I've acquired several good books recently that fall in line with this new emphasis in studies: one on the changing meaning of jihad, one on the War of 1812 in North America, and just today a history on the killing of Crazy Horse (a personal hero of mine). I'm also weighing studying the Cherokee language, as part of connecting to my family's history (but that is for another post).

Looking Forward

Time marches on. Good. In my lifetime we've seen an increase in tolerance for gays, but a corresponding increase in civic disengagement and mindless demogoguic populism, especially on the right. It is what it is.

But on a personal note, I will be glad to see the end of 2010. With such things as Manuel's nose wound, the blizzard week, Mom's several health issues and surgeries, the bedbug war, a rather dismal social life, 2010 was the worst year I've had since 2006.

I'm also looking forward to the end of my fifth decade of dwelling on this planet. After much reflection I've concluded that my fifth decade was the worst decade of my life, with the losses outweighing the gains. I expect life to get better. I expect to do better myself. I just have so much to gain.

Report from the Illness Room

Some people, when they get sick, get sad and then they whine. These people usually were as healthy as a horse growing up. I grew up getting sick often (due to massive allergies, hayfever and asthma). I learned how to be sick - that in essence I have to put life on hold and wait the illness out. So when I get sick, I tend to get bored and angry, and then bitchy. And that's why I tend to cocoon when I get sick. No one needs to be around a sick, bitchy man.

I do not want to be bitchy, so I've been trying to keep myself occupied. When I'm feverish, I cannot read very well. Still, in my more lucid moments, I managed to finish reading Peter Hoeg's Smilla's Sense of Snow. I cannot decide whether I liked it or not. I enjoyed to first parts more than the latter parts, I think. I've gotten through a few more pages of Chivers's The Gun, too.

Television has been of limited use, but I've kept up with my stories, e.g., The Vampire Diaries, Burn Notice, Supernatural, etc. But Syfy's movies have been their usual awfulness, and the other channels just aren't cooperating with me either.

The internet has been a lifesaver this time around. I've watched shows (The Venture Brothers, Community), surfed and reblogged on Tumblr, and built a playlist on Hypster.

Well alrighty, then

I woke up very early this morning, after having gone to bed very late last night. My body had simply gotten enough sleep over the long weekend, and was done with it. I have read that as one ages, one needs less sleep. Here's to hoping I put my future increased waking hours to good use.

In my tendency to try and draw life lessons from everything, I reached a few conclusions this past weekend.

1. In recovering from my last disasterous relationship I've gone far enough in cultivating my solitude. I would do well to increase my tolerance of human beings, and spend more time with them.

2. Even if it is very cold outside, I would do well to get out and walk about for a while every day (unless there's some really gawdawful precipitation descending).

3. Cooking is engaging, and a good way to spend one's time and creative energy (I knew this, but had forgotten it).

I'll be glad to see the end of 2010—it has been a difficult year. For that matter, I'll be glad to see my next birthday, if for no other reason than to put behind me the most difficult decade of my life (I've decided it was worse than even my teens!).

Do Not Fuck with The Old Ones

Maybe the Old Ones are Spirits, or maybe the Old Ones are the Collective Unconscious, or maybe the Old Ones are the accumulated weight of all the culture handed to you by your Mom, your Dad, your Lola, your Etsi, your primos, your titas, your cuyo, your friends, etc. But whatever. If you respect* that weight, that presence, then things will go well with you. If not, if you just jack around with the Old Ones, you could reap some damage.

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*Respect does not mean sheeplike following. It could in some cases mean wise, knowledgeable and aware defiance. No one, IMHO, should manifest sexism, racism, heterosexism, etc. just because they saw it in their elders. Defiance can be respectful. "I'm doing things differently from the way you did it, because you gave me the wisdom to grow to my own conclusions as an individual, and I thank you for that."

Not Hiding; Seeking

Sunday afternoon I met F for pho at Pho14 on Park Road. Pho14 is pho heaven. I had the vegetarian pho; F had meatballs. The best thing about meeting over pho is that since it takes time to consume and enjoy, we indulged in plenty of conversation to catch up.

Afterwards we went down to the National Portrait Gallery to take in the Hide/Seek exhibit. The exhibits impressed me greatly. The curators managed to pull together artwork from almost every major lesbian and gay artist in US history. The works include art from Eakins, Wood, Johns, O'Keefe, Mapplethorpe, Warhol, Goldin, Haring, etc. The art is arranged by periods, but they flow seamlessly from one to the other. The exhibit hall was crowded, and not all of the viewers were LGBT folks (although many were; this might well be the best place in DC to meet gay men, or at least intelligent gay men, for the time being). Most of all, seeing this exhibition reintroduced me to the thrill of being gay that I felt during the first few years after I came out. During that time I devoured gay art and literature like a hungry man who's just come upon a feast. The artwork I saw Sunday reminded me of that initial rush, and brought me back to a place of not only pride, but connection and identity. I highly recommend seeing this exhibition; I intend to see it again.

From there F and I walked to get coffee near Metro Center, then made our way to the "Borderstan" area to Local 16, where the Pocket Gays group were hosting a "Spanksgiving" party on the roof deck. Seeing my old friend D and his partner M made me very happy, since I had not had an opportunity to hang out with him for some time. Also, I got to meet some more of D's friends. D has the most interesting circle of friends of anyone I know, and I was particularly gratified to make the acquaintance of Z, who is smart, affable and attractive (rarely are all three in one person, right?). After a good evening of chatting with old and new friends, F and I left, and I made my way home to supper and The Walking Dead. Perhaps due to the full and fun day, I had no zombie nightmares Sunday night.

I Need to Be Someone Else

I need to be someone else. It's that simple.