Redemption

Since this one was my bright idea, I wrote a preparatory bit:

In English, redemption is a word weighted with religious and spiritual feeling; we are redeemed in the Blood of the Lamb, Christ is the Redeemer, etc.  Funnily enough, it also has a decidedly unreligious usage.  Many US states, trying to encourage recycling, offer 5 or 10 cent redemptions on beverage bottles and cans, which can be redeemed at any store that sells the product.  How can these uses be reconciled? The main idea is that a person or thing is made useful after losing that capacity through sin (people) or losing contents (containers).  Of course, for people in the religious sense, redemption is to make them useful to their god(s), which may or may not have any benefit for their physical environment.  Redeemed containers, however, will be recycled; some bottles are simply refilled, others, like cans, broken down and remade into something else that has a use to the species of their maker.
To focus on people, while redemption is intimately linked to religion, especially Christianity, it also has a secular usage.  It is a state connected to forgiveness and earning it from others.  To redeem yourself in the eyes of others is to atone for past wrong doing and be seen as good and trustworthy.  The song "Thrash Unreal" by the punk band Against Me!  includes the lines, "They don't know nothin' about redemption, they don't know nothin' about recovery."  The "main character" was a junky but is now implied to be free of drugs, if not the clubbing lifestyle. Most recovery programs for substance addiction and abuse have an element of Christianity, or at least religiosity, highlighting the tie between the idea of redemption and the supernatural redeemer once again.
Does this mean we have to have an outside force/judge/observer to achieve redemption?  Is it a state granted only by an external party or can we claim it for ourselves?  In the religious sense, the redeemer is obviously removed from ourselves and from the real world entirely.  When changing bad habits, perhaps our families or program mentors take on the role of redemption certifier, but we redeem ourselves.  It seems to be closely linked with forgiveness in this case, although the forgiveness of whatever divine being is also a part of religious redemption.  What differentiates redemption and forgiveness then?  It appears to be sacrifice.  For an addict to redeem themselves before their friends and family, they have to change their lifestyle, which inevitably means a sacrifice on their part even if it's for the better.  For Christians, the Redeemer was killed on their behalf before they were even born. Forgiveness may be given with or without any effort on the part of the object of forgiveness, but redemption requires active participation in its earning and bestowal.  It is not merely a gift or state we can accidentally find ourselves in, it is an achievement, one might even say a reward for our efforts.  This is fairly obvious in secular contexts, but where is our sacrifice for redemption in a Christian set of circumstances?  It looks more like some guy a couple millennia ago did all the heavy lifting for us.  Well, in order to be redeemed in Christ, we do have to accept the sacrifice.  We have to put aside any selfish desires and work only towards the furthering of the kingdom, ignoring personal ("earthly") pleasures.  If we have never been tempted away from the holy life (almost a miracle, that) we cannot truly be redeemed since no change or real sacrifice/effort was made or necessary on our part. Redemption requires change for "the better".  Of course, some believers get around this by saying we are all born with the stain of Original Sin, so even if we never actually perform any ungodly acts in our whole lives, we achieve redemption by not giving in to our inborn "sinful" desires.
So, is the truth of redemption the effort and sacrifice behind it?  Is it a relevant idea in our lives or does it belong to the realm of religious "mysteries" trotted out for effect but devoid of any real meaning or substance?  Also, should the religious be offended by bottles and cans sharing their special reward, or do they see themselves as objects of their lord as much as a soda can is an object to a regular person?

The Organizer and the Philosopher also kindly offered their thoughts in writing here and here.

As expected, much of the discussion centered on the religious aspect, beginning with the Researcher who gave us the usual bit of etymology.  He then linked the idea to hope and relief, hope for better things and relief of guilt.  Because we are not perfect beings, we make mistakes; life is pure trial and error.  If our errors cannot be fixed, we have no hope.  Religion, in the wisdom of its creators, offers ways of erasing or at least easing errors and the guilt that accompanies them, hence the proliferation of religions.

The Professional Thinker explained that the Redeemer of Christianity was something of a twisted borrowing from Judaism, since the idea of needing an earthly messiah was rooted in the Babylonian exile.  He then made it clear that it was not his belief that such a character is necessary for humanity, and in fact religions such as Christianity would do better to come up with their own holy books rather than taking from others, swallowing them "hook, line, and sinker".

Others mused over the various uses of the term in common expressions, e.g. "He's beyond redemption." or redeeming objects from a pawn shop.  Then the Organizer insisted on emphasizing the aspect of guilt in the concept, not only individual but also collective.  He reminded us that assigning collective guilt or guilt by association has the danger of being simply unfair when used on large groups.  A small community could believably commit or enable a crime with the knowledge and participation of all its members, but blaming entire nations or ethnic groups, consisting of millions of individuals, is not terribly rational.  This key ingredient of guilt, in his mind, makes religion an indispensable and unavoidable part of the conversation since it is such an important element for identifying, assigning and dealing with the feeling.  Others echoed the sentiment, repeating that religion is necessary to the conversation, although some jabs were taken at Christianity for its lack of innovation in its mythology.  We also were reminded of the importance of repentance for redemption.  Although a good believer can receive forgiveness for free, as it were, to be redeemed requires not only an internal wish for a change in the status quo, but also the outward demonstration of sorrow and desire to make things right.

It was commented that although we have a greater community today than ever before, in terms of numbers and possibilities of communication, we are in fact less communal than we have been at any point in history.  The individual has increased greatly in value compared to the community, at least in Western cultures.  Therefore, the collective redemption of Original Sin is a bit silly.  Our understanding of guilt, sin, and community vs. individual has evolved over the centuries, leaving the religious interpretations behind.  However, another participant pointed out that religion continues to offer easy answers to the complicated perception of reality and, in some ways, instant gratification when it comes to finding purpose and, again, relieving our guilt over our mistakes.

Finally, we all seemed to agree on a question more than any answer: can we be redeemed, not from our mistakes, but from the ignorance of reality that causes us to make them?

from summers past

Last summer I was in the right place to tour the Staropramen brewery.  It's...OK.  Now it's self-guided, recently changed from having a person actually take you around and tell you things.  I don't doubt that it's cheaper and easier to do things that way, especially with a number of languages involved for different groups of visitors, but self-guided tours tend to get a little cheesy.  Still, it's a fine product and I felt a bit of nostalgia seeing it on the shelf.

Say it with feeling - Staropramen!!

 There's a strong pilsner smell as soon as the cap is removed, tangy, sour, promising.  The color is right, although the head is a little fizzy rather than fluffy.  It's also very bubbly.  Other pilsners made in Spain have not been especially pleasing to me, but Staropramen is imported from the Czech Republic, so it should be authentic - and it is.  Refreshing bitter pilsner, none of the weird sourness or other interesting flavors that get put in other beers.  It's clean and classic, a beer for sitting around and people watching in the park, or relaxing at the end of the day with a book or a good movie.

I'm holding it up because there's laundry out the window, OK?

for a little kick

One thing about these German beers is they can make some interesting labels.  As I recall from Vienna, the bock beer has a connection with Easter and spring, so here's Celebrator Doppelbock.

It's like a labor of Hercules...fetch the Beer of Strength from the Giant Goats of the Alps

It's a nice dark color but with some reddish highlights in it.  The head is off-white, contrasting nicely, and resistant.  It has that appetizing creamy, earthy dark beer smell, and the taste doesn't disappoint.  It's rather subdued, with no particular note making itself more noticeable.  It doesn't have any of those experimental ingredients like chocolate or jalapeños, but there is a covering of sweetness on it.  It's smooth and goes down easy, perhaps dangerously so, without any odd lingering aftertaste.  It does feel quite nice for a rainy Easter time, not too sweet, but maybe good to go with a Cadbury egg or two.

And it comes with a prize!

How Relevant Is The Past

We all know the saying, "Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it."  We all know, too, that as a general rule we do ignore the lessons of the past.  What could cause this error?  Simply enough, it is probably that we do not really see those lessons as applicable to our present circumstances.  Sure, economic bubbles burst in the past, but this time it's going to go on forever!  Or at least until I can pay off my house.  Why would the cycle not affect me this time?  Well, it's not really the same as before.  Now, we have protections!  Government guarantees!  Economists have learned from past mistakes, and they're the ones who need to keep an eye on these things, not me!

On the surface, this sounds like saying the past has no real relevance to us in the present at all, but that is not quite the case.  Our Great Thinkers came up with pre-discussion essays pointing out the connection between "relevance" and " usefulness".  A great deal of things can be learned from history, but if we cannot put those lessons to use in our lives, they really are not relevant. It was also mentioned in one musing that the distinction we see between past, present, and future is really an illusion caused by the limitations of human perception.  It was something at least I had heard before, and left a strong impression on one other participant, who told us her interpretation of this idea is that everything is now, meaning there is no future and no possibility of anything happening other than what happens.  She also said that since we are the result of our past, as well as the past of our parents and other people around us, we really have little to no control over who we are; we may have some ability to choose how we use the tools we are given, but none at all over which tools we get.  Another contributor took a different track, saying that our perception of the past exists for us to learn how to deal with the present (and future?), and it is her belief that life is full of "second chances" for everyone.  The Artist among us then reminded us that there are two types of past: history and memory.  There is a certain amount of overlap in these two ideas, and indeed history can be thought if as but collective memory of a society.  We must keep in mind, however, that memory is not constant.  Human memory is extremely flexible, even unreliable.  True history requires "quality of information", something which can be guaranteed only with some amount of imprecision.

It was then asked, can memory change history?  History is subjective, after all.  Can events be removed from the historical timeline of the universe beyond human tampering/propaganda if they are simply forgotten?  I think this harkens back to the quality of information, just mentioned.  An event like a natural disaster, even a tiny one, leaves some kind of mark on the environment.  Although we might not be able to decipher the actual things that happened, we as conscious and curious beings will most likely come across the evidence of them, and interpret them as best we can.  The better the quality of our information, the more accurate our interpretation should be.  The True Philosopher also spoke of history as a matter of interpretation, and something that is never set in stone.  Memory is history, but whose memory gets recorded?  Besides that, whose interpretation of that memory gets laid down?  Even if the past is in the past, it is not final because of constant human reinterpretation of it.  The Professional Scientist disagreed, remarking that interpretations change, but that does not mean the past itself changes.  He also presented the idea that we need memory simply because we are temporal beings.  Our death, and our awareness of it, not only make memory possible, but make it necessary, and the awareness of the end of consciousness makes us able to organize our memory and history.

Finally, our ideas boiled down to information always being incomplete, but we are compelled to use it anyway, to the best of our abilities.  In fact, that incompleteness is something cultivated by authority, since it means that what is known can be controlled and even those who wish to change things might hesitate, knowing that they do not have a complete set of facts.  Old ideas might bring a sense of comfort and stability, but they cannot be accepted unquestioningly since things are always changing, and what worked once might not work again, at least in the same way.  What do we remember from our classes, seminars, and discussions?  Only a small percentage of what was said.  Reality, including time, is much more complex than what we filter it down to for our consumption.  No wonder people turn to fatalism and pre-destination.  It offers so much more security.

cali by way of celts

 Dead Pony Club comes out with meringue-like head, but it fizzles out within the minute.  The slightly earthy citrus smell does hang around for a while, though.  It's surprisingly dark for a "pale ale" and soda level bubbly.  The taste is bitter and tongue-covering, but with a hint of sweet, a bitter orange type of flavor.  The sweet becomes more perceptible with some time sitting without becoming overwhelming.  Nice and refreshing, a good after-work beer, especially the evening still has a little warmth from the day.

a tale with a stone begins

The howling wind was cold and strong and the clouds raced like rabbits.  The young man was trotting as fast as he could under his heavy burden of stones.  He hoped the old wicker baskets wouldn't break and spill his prizes all over the dry dirt path.  And it was too dry.  The summer had been hot and bright and now the fall came with only rivers of air flowing over the land.  The people worried about the crops.  The animals fought over leathery tufts of grass.  The young man was fortunate to live near the Salt Pond, where he could catch fish.  He didn't eat them himself, he found their taste too strong, but people in town enjoyed them at their parties and they paid good prices.  Sometimes he accepted goods directly, like the stones.  He wanted to fix the chimney before winter settled in.  He hurried home as best he could against the wind, and once inside, mixed the mortar and set to work.  He could have waited until the next day, but he was too excited about his project.  As he was fitting the stones into the wall of the chimney, he noticed one had a strange colorful stripe through the middle of it.  He examined it to see if it was paint, but it seemed to be a natural part of the stone itself.  He shrugged and cemented it in place, color side out, thinking it would make a nice decoration until the ashes covered it.

On the first day of winter the air was still and filled with knives of frost.  The young man had been hunting in the forest, but with little luck.  He had managed to snare only a scrawny, sick looking rabbit.  In better times, he would have been wary of eating it, but the times were not good at all, and he felt he ought to be thankful even for this chewy, sallow mouthful.  His boiled dinner was gamey but warmed his stomach just for a bit, and he sat poking at the fire for minutes afterwards.  The flames were low, but bright enough to throw shadows around the room, and for just a moment the young man felt no fear for the future.

"A pleasant meal, young man?" said the voice.  The young man started and fell over backwards, but was up in an instant, holding the poker out in front of him.  His house was small and nobody could get in without his knowledge.  He was alone.  "It's been a long while since I had a fine rabbit to eat," came the voice again, gravelly, wistful, maybe a little mocking.  Narrowing his eyes, the young man stared hard at the wall across the room from the fireplace.  He could barely make out a silhouette - a grinning wolf - squinting, gleeful eyes and sharp daggers of teeth bristling in its long slice of a mouth.  Suddenly, the eyes widened and the shadow spoke, or at least it seemed the voice came from the direction of the shadow, although the mouth didn't move at all.  "Oh, how quick you are, dear boy!  How poor my skills have become!"  Something in the young man's head told him he should be afraid, but he wasn't.  He just looked at the shadow and waited for it to speak again.  "You are a calm one, too.  That is grand.  I think it will be easy to help you."

"Help me?  How?  Why?"

"How?  I will tell you how to reach your desires.  Why?  Why not?  Sometimes we spirits are generous.  And you have a talisman near the flame to call me."

The young man looked back towards the fire and saw the colored stripe positively glowing inside the chimney, as if it had its own flames inside it.  He pulled up his rickety wooden chair and sat down facing the shadow.  It looked at him expectantly.

"You say you will help me get what I desire.  How do I know your help is worth my time?"

The shadow winked coquettishly.  "I will tell you what you can do.  More aid at this time I cannot offer."  The young man thought he even saw the shadow shrug.  "You decide to follow my advice, or not.  It is of no consequence to me.  As I say, sometimes we are simply generous."

The young man tried to be skeptical.  But his stomach was eager for easy pickings.  "Tell me how to get food for the winter," he said.

The shadow's smile lengthened impossibly and innumerable pointy teeth appeared.  "You should look carefully around the Giant's Hands.  Many things are incautious and take less care in their shade."

The young man frowned.  He didn't know what giant the shadow was referring to.  "Let me consider," he said and turned to bank the fire.  He half expected the shadow to still be on the wall without the fire's light, and half expected to see a real wolf smiling at him.  But there was nothing.  He went to bed.

The next morning he got up as he did any other winter day.  Taking a stale roll and a handful of dried apple, he went to see what he could find in the woods.  He had almost forgotten about the shadow from the night before; it felt more like a dream than a real happening.  The young man checked his empty snares all through the woods, the loops staring at him from the snowy ground like the eyes of a corpse starved to death.  He decided to stray from his usual rounds, which had not been providing plentifully of late, and trudged up a small hill.  A few scattered birds rattled the bare tree limbs and squeaked from above.  The young man glanced up at them, but noticed something: A number of branches were pointing towards the gray sky, much thicker than others nearby; they joined into two imposing trunks, like thick wrists pushing out of the frozen earth.  Giant's wrists.  The young man stared for a moment and then cautiously moved forward, trying to avoid as much crunch of snow and underlying brush as he could.  A wintery crow cawed.  There was no sound from the old trees as he approached, but suddenly a brown triangular head popped out from behind them.  The young man had fallen to the ground before he recognized it as a goat.  What luck!  It was not very fat, but it stood calmly staring at him, chewing something it must have found in the woods.

"You must be lost," he said, and the goat gave him a quizzical look, still chewing.  Looking around, the young man saw no sign of other people or goats, and he decided he was simply in luck that day.  The goat, better than 10 rabbits, went home with him and was soon in the stew pot.  That night the young man was sleepy after a good meal, and when he heard the voice again he nearly tumbled out of his chair.

"I see you have profited from my advice.  Perhaps you will listen to a few more words?"  The young man searched the walls for the shadow but found no sign of it.  Then he saw two glowing spots high on the chimney, dirty orange and round as berries.

"Indeed, it was useful."

The eyes glowed brighter, going from orange to yellow, and the voice said, "Maybe you should take a visit to the town.  I have a feeling there will be many feathers for the plucking."  The young man smiled, thinking of roast quail and partridge.  That night his dreams were full of stuffed goose and duck.

Still happy with his goat supper, the young man walked into town the next day with no doubts at all.  He expected to find some fowl wandering free, lost from its flock and keeper, but hours passed and no opportunity presented itself.  He began to feel frustrated, and thought perhaps the shadow wolf was making a fool of him.  Then a pillow fell on his head.

"Oh no!  I'm so sorry!" came a girl's voice from above.  The young man looked up, ready to scold the child for her carelessness, but he saw a lovely young woman, concern in her eyes and braids dangling towards the ground.

"Well, it was only a pillow," he said, "No harm done today." and he laughed in a way he hoped sounded unconcerned.

"I have to air these linens before my step-aunt arrives," explained the young woman, "But she's a terrible severe woman.  No matter what she'll find fault with what I've done."

"How could there be any fault at all in someone as lovely as you?  But I am rude.  I have made no move to return your fine pillow for your surely splendid step-aunt," and he took the pillow into the house, not noticing the few white feathers that drifted to the cold cobblestones behind him.

The house was rather dark inside, but the young man could easily see the comfort in which its inhabitants lived.  All the wooden surfaces were straight and shiny with cleanliness rather than use, and there was abundant gleam of metal.  The furniture had somber colors, but also cushions and tassels that marked it as the property of a fine family.  The young woman led him upstairs without a word, but in the bedroom where she had been airing the bedclothes she said, "My name is Hidda.  I earn my keep for Aunt Demeter by helping with the housework.  What is your name and business when you're not retrieving fallen pillows for young ladies?"

The young man smiled, "They call me Jobe.  I'm just a forest dweller.  I earn my keep however I can."

Hidda's eyes darkened slightly, "That may be fine for one person alone, but it doesn't sound very secure for a family."

"Oh, fortunately I am alone," began the young man, but then he stopped, thinking that "fortunately" placed too much joy in solitude.  Maybe he should say something about loneliness or boredom so she would feel more welcome to his time.  Hidda had already turned away, back to pulling at the sheets when he said, "What I mean is, it's fortunate that nobody else suffers when I have trouble making due with what I can find.  I couldn't bear it if I caused somebody else pain or want.  If I were to start a family, I suppose I would look into more stable jobs - goatherd, perhaps.  Or woodsman.  I could stay in my own house then."

Now Hidda was smiling a little, "I suppose every girl in town dreams of a house in the wood.  Such freedom!  No gossipy neighbors, no prying, demanding relatives."

"They might dream, but they don't tell me about it.  I guess they tell only their friends."

Hidda was now standing beside the bed, sheet corners in her hands, "I fear I have taken too much time from you today.  And you must know my step-aunt will be angry if my tasks aren't finished.  Perhaps it is best if you leave - for now."

"But I might return?"

"Come meet me at the market tomorrow and we shall see."

The young man went home feeling lighter than the feathers in those faded flowered cotton covered pillows.

That night he was more startled than ever by the voice, being lost in daydreams as might be expected.  "I believe you have had success in town, young man."  The voice sounded more vibrant now than in nights past.  The young man looked around for a shadow or glowing eyes, but saw nothing.  "Don't fret, my child, I am here" spoke the voice, it's source seeming to move along the wall towards the hearth, "and I have even more advice for you."

"How can you come by so much advice?" murmured the young man in wonder.

"Well, you see, I am not all here.  And if I am not here, I must be there.  But there is also here to others, so I am neither here nor there.  I am almost anywhere and not nowhere."  There was a definite note of glee in the voice as it circled the room, "It is no great effort for me to find things out."

"I think I would like advice about making a comfortable life," said the young man boldly.

"Would you now?" came the purring response, "Well, as everyone knows, shiny things can make any life comfortable.  Be on the lookout for them.  They are often mostly hidden.  I suggest you visit your old friend, the miller's lad."

The young man brooded on his new bit of help, staring hard into the fire until he nearly fell off his chair from exhaustion.  Finally, he went to bed and dreamed of flour sacks full of gold dust.

The next morning he left his little house with the just rising sun making mirrors of the air ice.  He kept his eyes alert all the way to the mill; the voice had only told him to go there, it hadn't said wealth would be in the mill.  But all the road walked left him with empty pockets in front of his friend's workplace.

"Long time gone," grinned the miller's lad when he saw him, and he brushed clouds of dust from his unrescuably floured shirt.  The two men shook hands and exchanged the normal greetings and boasts of friends who have been apart.  The joy of the visit made the young man forget about his search almost immediately.  He and the miller's lad talked and joked and it was only when the miller called for his help that the young man remembered the mission that he had set out on.  He followed his friend into the mill, stifling a cough, and looked around.  Everything was covered with a fine layer of powder.  The young man felt his heart in his throat; shiny things here would not only be mostly hidden, they would be completely covered over.  He kicked a nearby sack in frustration and was aghast to see it begin to tip over, spilling grain onto the floor.  He dove down upon the sack and hauled it upright, surprised that that simple act took all his strength.  "How can I not right a plain sack of grain?" he asked himself, "Has the hard winter taken so high a toll on my arms?"  Then he looked more closely at the grain and saw something glittering in the sack.  Looking about him to be sure nobody witnessed his poking into a business that certainly wasn't his, he stealthily pulled out a reddish stone.  A jewel?  Why would it be in a grain sack in a mill?  Was the miller hiding treasures beyond anyone's suspicions?  The young man probed the grain several more times, gaining a stone in each turn, and it occurred to him that it would be greedy to continue and difficult to take his collection home.  What he had already filled his pockets.  He left the building and circled the mill to raise a hand of farewell to his friend, now back at his toil, and received the answering hand.  Then he left.

Integration In Society

As members of modern societies, cosmopolitan societies, integration is a much-discussed idea.  Throughout history there have been multicultural societies, with varying levels of durability and success in absorbing "outsiders", that is, the ones who have to be integrated.  From one perspective, integration is something that is dictated and bestowed by the absorbing community.  It is the newcomers who have to adapt and learn new ways, and the "natives" who decide who has become enough like them to be considered one of them.  From another point of view, however, it is the newcomers themselves who decide when they are integrated.  When they feel accepted by their neighbors, when they know they have the same rights and privileges, when they are not second class citizens based exclusively on their geographic origin, then they can say they have (been) integrated.

The word integration by itself refers to forming a substance of unseparated particles, so we were told.  Each part forms a bit of the whole, an entire piece, rather than a collection of components or ingredients.  This points to the idea that for integration to be successful, there has to be a common feeling, a shared identity among the people making up the community.  For this identity to exist, the common and non-negotiable values have to be made plain and public.  With the variety of cultures that exist around the world, it should not be hard to see that very little in the way of values or morals is objectively correct, so it is up to the admitting society to make sure that its values are clear to those who would join it.

On one hand, the resident Doctor reminded us that a healthy body does not willingly accept foreign particles that are not of the most benign nature, a phenomenon mimicked in societies; outsiders are accepted with little difficulty only if they are "necessary".  Our Bold Leader, however, remarked that there is no such thing as a closed society in the context we were discussing.  There are two competing needs for the continuation of a society: stability and innovation, which is best achieved with "new blood".  Another thing to consider, per our Tireless Organizer, is the money held and produced by a newcomer in a society.  Those with money will not put an undue burden on their hosts, and therefore will be more easily accepted.  There is also the question of socioeconomic values, since the wealthy in different societies may well have more shared values than people in the same society but at different economic levels.  Later, it was mentioned that even the rich are not completely accepted, but only tolerated, just barely, although this could be a matter of envy rather than culture clash.

The True Philosopher among us brought up the fact that some groups can exist within a society without ever truly becoming part of it, giving us the example of the Amish.  It is true that there are some "foreign bodies" floating around within some societies, but this probably goes back to the issue of necessity.  To continue with the Amish example, they do not provide much competition to the surrounding communities in terms of work or wealth creation.  They produce some specialized items and otherwise keep to themselves without any egregious rule-breaking that can be seen from society at large.

One thing was never quite put to rest to my liking was the question of partial integration, or a warping of the values that are supposed to be shared among old and new members of society.  For example, there are women in European societies that choose to wear a burka.  For most of us, the burka represents a repressive and misogynist society, and we imagine that no woman would freely choose to identify herself with it.  However, some women do this, because their religion is an important part of their identity, and one of the values of Western societies is freedom of choice and, to some extent, freedom of religion.  They are exercising the values imparted by their society.  But, the mainstream of that society sees more threat in their expression of identity than they do.  As our Leader said, in many cases practicality has to be the stick by which we measure.  In quite a number of situations it is simply not the best choice to cover oneself with a sheet.  There are many populations in many countries now that face this seeming dilemma of identity, having parents from one place but growing up in another.  Some try to insert themselves completely in the host culture, others try to maintain as much of their roots as they can, and some try to work out some kind of balance.  This goes back to the beginning though, with the question of how much variation among its members a society can stand.

That comment leads to another thought, which is: what about the integration of the native born?  No child comes programmed to fit in exactly with any society, rather with the tools to learn the values and behaviors that are expected.  There are always "weirdos", "freaks", individuals that never quite fit into their own community, whether because of the clash of values (hate gays vs. who cares?) or because of personal issues (emotional problems, social prejudices, personal grudges between families, etc.).  The answer probably lies in the realm of necessity again, necessity for variation to avoid social stagnation versus the need for group identification to protect and preserve the group.  The amount of difference allowed depends on the security each member feels in society, so that the differences do not create distrust and rejection.

The last comment of the evening was an interesting one.  The participant had been a member of the armed forces of his country, and his observation was that integration of foreigners, members of different social strata and religions was extremely rapid in a military context.  His reasoning was that each soldier depended on the others for safety, and that dependence overrode any distrust that might have stemmed from the other differences.  He also presented us with an anecdote picked up in England.  At a pub he met a woman - the wife of the owner - who had a different accent than the other people in town.  He asked her about it, and she replied that she was from Wales, but had lived in that town for more than 20 years.  Then she said she still didn't feel accepted after all that time, which was an amazing thing to the man telling the story.  His conclusion, then, was that civilian integration was a more superficial thing, since there was no real threat to life and limb by not building a sense of trust in your neighbors.

The issue remains open, really.  This is a world of movement and constant change.  How much responsibility does each individual have to blend into the background?  How much oddity can a community stand?  How much of a right is it to be yourself?  Unanswered questions...

slightly out of season

Hmm, beer in one of those dangerously clear bottles...it must be to show off that mellow color.

Innis & Gunn's Oak Aged Beer brings watery whiskey to mind before you taste it, but the scent is sweeter and lighter, and the taste more...Christmasy.  Yes, that's what came to my mind when I first tried it.  It's sweet but spicy, with a complex bittersweet kick at the end.  The label mentions toffee and vanilla, and there is a sort of supertaste that reminds me of eggnog.  With a bit of time on the table, the beer seems to be closer and closer to a very mild whiskey, but I suppose it could be psychological.  It's quite a pleasant beer, which I'd be fine sipping by itself, although it is recommended as an accompaniment to seafood, steak or cheese.  Maybe something slightly salty would be good with it, as a compliment to the round sweet flavors.

Escaping From Reality

Generally, I'd say the phrase is used with a negative connotation.  People who escape from reality are being irresponsible, shirking their duties.  They neglect what they should be doing in favor of some kind of fantasy, often reached with the aid of chemical substances.  Yes, it can be used in a more favorable light, like advertising vacation destinations, but the phrase tends to go something more like "escape from daily life" or "escape from drudgery" in those cases.

The source of the topic began by saying what she really meant was escaping from ourselves, which isn't quite the same.  But, each person has a reality that is perceived individually, something that isn't sharable with others, so in a certain sense escaping from our reality implies escaping from ourselves.  She also mentioned drugs in passing, saying that she had been struck by an exhibit on primitive cultures which used psychotropic drugs, finally asking if there is an inherent need to escape sometimes that manifests in all human beings.

The Expert reaffirmed the idea of individual reality, explaining that brain scans show different reactions in different brains to the same stimuli.  He also insisted that the word reality defines an undefinable thing, that our realities are as much invented by language as interpreted by our senses.  Of course, being invented does not mean under our conscious control, so it's not at all unbelievable that many people have realities they hate, and escaping from them is a survival strategy more than a weakness.

We were then ready to examine the difference between objective and subjective reality, ready in the sense of wondering, not so much in reaching conclusions.  There is an objective reality, to the extent that there is a generally agreed upon version of interpretations of the space we exist in and our interactions with it; our subjective reality, on the other hand, is what we cannot share, so it is the one we might escape from.  We cannot literally escape an objective, physical reality, but we might change our perception or interpretations of our subjective reality.  In most cases, this is done to escape problems that we can't solve, or are too overwhelmed to solve at the moment.  In many cases, this is done through the use of perception altering substances, controlled or easily obtained.  However, to return to other cultures, it was mentioned that in those societies with shamans or similar figures, the use of mind altering drugs was not done as an escape, but as an enhancement of reality.  Most of us are aware that human perception is limited, and some people try to open doors that are normally closed to us through the use of various chemicals.  Of course, not everybody in those societies was thought capable of handling that amount of stimulation or knowledge, so the use of these drugs was left for ceremony rather than recreation.  I wouldn't be surprised that they had recreational substances too, but probably not so powerful.

A few comments came out that were fairly harsh with regards to drug use.  The question arose about why we should care what other people do if what they do doesn't cause us harm, and there wasn't really a clear answer.  I suppose it's another topic.

Only our Gracious Host wondered aloud about the origins of the drive to escape, saying that excessively high expectations have a lot to do with it.  Our disappointments make us want to change our realities, that is our surroundings rather than ourselves.

I wondered what the connection was between escape from reality and flat denial of it.  One thing is people using fantasy and medication to remove themselves from the path of problems or difficulties, but it's another to steadfastly deny the effects of reality simply because you don't like them.  More than an escape from reality, this is creating a new reality without the disappointments and inconveniences of the old one.  Others said that although escape is a denial of reality, there is also the need to recognize different levels of reality.  Most people in their escape do not retreat to some fantasy that is completely fabricated and separate from any possible creation or agreement from another individual.  In many cases, retreating to another level does not change how we interact with others, except possibly those who are the cause of our retreat:  I didn't get the job because the HR director has a grudge against me, not because I have bad references.  That is a denial of reality, but not one that significantly affects the realities of others, unless somebody is depending on me to get that job.  Along those same lines, the idea was introduced that our present reality is based on memories, and we can be selective about the memories we maintain.  While there are no active alterations in the past, what we remember shapes the present and we can, in fact, escape an unpleasant past reality by carefully keeping only the memories that are to our advantage.

It was then brought out that acceptance of pain and suffering as a reality was an acceptance of authority also.  Those who questioned the negative parts of their reality were not only attacking unpleasant experiences, they were attacking the authority that allowed this reality to exist.  At the same time, denying reality is easily a manipulation of it, and of other people who just want answers or an easier way of dealing with their lives.  We were reminded that philosophy began as a way of examining and defining reality, but became a tool to control it, or at least the perception of it.  The most important thing we can do with regard to reality is identify bad reality, so that it can be changed and remove the necessity of escape.