I'm still not really good at blogging regularly, but the intention is certainly there. Hopefully, I'll get better at it and be able to provide you, my precious reader, with a more regular blog-feed.
Hunting season started a few weeks ago (for bow that is). Due to some book research travel, I was only able to start my season about a week ago. I've been enjoying my time with the elk herds and am pretty happy with the shape I'm in this year. Climbing hills up and down for some 15 to 20 km in a day, and my body is holding up well. I so appreciate spending time in the mountains again. This time of the year is sacred to me. Each time I discover new things about the world and about myself, simply by slowing down and tuning into the rhythm of Mother Earth.
My first lesson this year was the reminder that we are not in control. Something, I've known for a long time as many readers have noticed from my books. However, due to the way our society works, it is so easy to get dragged into the control mode that almost every year I need to be woken up from the illusion of control and accept that we are here for the ride, have a choice to make the most of it and enjoy the journey, but we are most definitely not in control.
It is difficult to make plans, set goals, take action and then ...detach, let go of all expectations and enjoy the adventure. When we succeed in doing just that, the journey is full of discoveries and gifts, not necessarily the ones we had expected or had planned for, but always the ones we truly need.
In hunting it is what I call the difference between 'hunting down' and 'hunting.' The difference between 'taking' or going for a walk and being open to 'receive' with gratitude whatever is presented, whether it is a silent moonrise, an unexpected encounter with a mountain lion, a touch by a soaring falcon's wings, or an offer of life to feed the family.
Letting go of the illusion of control softens the hard lines of plans, allows them to bend and adjust, puts us in a position where we can enjoy the adventure--even if it turns out to be different from the plan--and allows us to seize unexpected opportunities. But most importantly, it frees us from frustration, anger and disappointment and replaces it with the zest of the adventurer in search for new discoveries, cherishing each surprise for the learning opportunity it offers, so we can walk through life with gratitude and respect.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
The choice of the story teller
It is midnight the evening before leaving on my spring book tour. I wasn’t quite planning to write tonight, actually I was already in bed, but then the muse started talking. I didn’t listen for the last few nights when she did that in the middle of the night—too lazy to get up. But I guess she has turned nocturnal and if I am going to continue this blog at this point, it is going to be in the middle of the night. So here I am, in my robe, curled up with a computer on my lap, close to the woodstove in the living room as my office is to cold. It is -25 C outside. I hope I’m not going to regret this tomorrow during my drive to Red Deer and Edmonton.
I did leave the last post up for a longer period than planned due to the fact that it was touching people in some profound ways and I personally found the events deserved the attention. But why did it strike a chord with people? And how was it different from the stories we hear on a daily basis in the media? I accused the media of not sticking to the facts, but did that not make me just as judgmental? What are facts? What is reality? Don’t worry this is not some quantum physics post on multiple realities, but rather a down to earth observation about a root cause of conflicts. Why are we so fast to judge? And how does that lead to conflict and pain? These were the questions that occupied my mind over the past week.
When I wrote In the Eyes of Anahita 5-years ago I realized I didn’t need a supreme theory about how to change all (or any) of the world’s problems, but rather, that it was enough to make people think—to wake readers up to new possibilities and unknown realities, to tease their minds into that unbridled curiosity with which we are all born—so they would be moved to action and set out on the adventure to discover new solutions and co-create a better world. That’s also what the previous blog post did, it made people think—opened up a window to an alternative perspective—and therefore, it expanded the experience of readers and offered growth for those who took time to reflect on it. Ultimately I always write or present to provoke thought, not merely to be provocative for the sake of it, but because I’ve learned that our mind needs to be engaged in reflection, exploration and critical thinking before expansion, learning and growth can take place.
Now, let’s have a look at the media, the predominant story teller in our culture. The media claims to report facts. Reporters are trained to research facts and present the audience with a picture of reality so that we can all know what goes on in the world. On issues where some people have contrasting opinions or claim different facts they will, at times, give those opposing views coverage. The problem with this approach is that every reality they report on, every fact they claim as truth, is always an interpretation from one unique individual out of 7 billion. No one else on the planet can have the exact same experience and perspective as the reporter who researches the events and puts the story together. The approach in itself is not wrong, it never could be anything else, but what is absurd is the claim that they report facts, truth, and present an objective story. The question can never be whether a story is objective or a complete presentation of the facts—it is impossible for it to be that—but rather what we should ask is what is the intend of the storyteller? Is it to expand the mind of the audience, to help the audience grow from the stories that are being told, or is it to rally the crowd into judgment and join a particular side of the conflict, debate, war or tragedy?
As story teller we have a choice to make, a choice about what we want to achieve with telling a story. Do we help people explore the different aspects of reality or do we hone in on the one reality we see, present it as the whole truth and nothing but the truth and rally the crowd into judgment.
If all this sounds too theoretical or if you think this only applies to story tellers, let me demonstrate how this plays out on a daily basis in all of our lives.
Some of you know that in a previous life I was a business executive. I was in business development and my main skill was international negotiations. I was once asked by a client to help solve a conflict between a German and an American corporation. Both companies had entered into a business relationship two years earlier, but lately one dispute had let to another and the relationship had gotten really strained. They flew me to Frankfurt to attend a meeting between the management teams of both companies. When the meeting started I just sat in the room, listened and observed as the arguments and accusations where flying from one side of the board room to the other, neither side realizing their could possibly be another side of the reality they were seeing, both seemingly unaware of how they could only win by understanding that other reality and by working together as partners to solve the problems at hand. After thirty minutes of the spectacle, I interrupted the heated drama and put a coffee can in the middle of the table. The coffee can had some distinct markings on one side and was boringly pale on the other side. I asked the management team of one company to describe in detail the coffee can they saw in front of them. Then I asked the same of the management of the other company which was looking at opposite side of the same can. Low and behold, both teams gave an entirely different description of the same coffee can—the same reality at the centre of the table was described differently, both stories were fact based. It was only the cumulative perspectives taken from alternate angles that could present a more complete picture of the reality on the table. Through the simple exercise the teams realized that it was only by putting their pictures together, rather than debating them, that solutions could surface. For the next three days, both management teams worked together and solved all their issues. I didn’t do a thing anymore. Every time someone started debating, someone else reminded them that they were having the coffee can syndrome.
How often do we all suffer from the coffee can syndrome? How often does our judgment get in the way of seeing the alternative perspective of the same reality? Sure we can know and speak our truth, but what makes the truth of someone else less valuable or less right? How much less conflict would there be if we could accept that we can never see or understand the whole truth and nothing but the truth? How much would we learn if we would explore other perspectives and withhold our judgment? How much would we grow as individuals and as a society? Can you imagine the issues we might be able to solve—together?
I did leave the last post up for a longer period than planned due to the fact that it was touching people in some profound ways and I personally found the events deserved the attention. But why did it strike a chord with people? And how was it different from the stories we hear on a daily basis in the media? I accused the media of not sticking to the facts, but did that not make me just as judgmental? What are facts? What is reality? Don’t worry this is not some quantum physics post on multiple realities, but rather a down to earth observation about a root cause of conflicts. Why are we so fast to judge? And how does that lead to conflict and pain? These were the questions that occupied my mind over the past week.
When I wrote In the Eyes of Anahita 5-years ago I realized I didn’t need a supreme theory about how to change all (or any) of the world’s problems, but rather, that it was enough to make people think—to wake readers up to new possibilities and unknown realities, to tease their minds into that unbridled curiosity with which we are all born—so they would be moved to action and set out on the adventure to discover new solutions and co-create a better world. That’s also what the previous blog post did, it made people think—opened up a window to an alternative perspective—and therefore, it expanded the experience of readers and offered growth for those who took time to reflect on it. Ultimately I always write or present to provoke thought, not merely to be provocative for the sake of it, but because I’ve learned that our mind needs to be engaged in reflection, exploration and critical thinking before expansion, learning and growth can take place.
Now, let’s have a look at the media, the predominant story teller in our culture. The media claims to report facts. Reporters are trained to research facts and present the audience with a picture of reality so that we can all know what goes on in the world. On issues where some people have contrasting opinions or claim different facts they will, at times, give those opposing views coverage. The problem with this approach is that every reality they report on, every fact they claim as truth, is always an interpretation from one unique individual out of 7 billion. No one else on the planet can have the exact same experience and perspective as the reporter who researches the events and puts the story together. The approach in itself is not wrong, it never could be anything else, but what is absurd is the claim that they report facts, truth, and present an objective story. The question can never be whether a story is objective or a complete presentation of the facts—it is impossible for it to be that—but rather what we should ask is what is the intend of the storyteller? Is it to expand the mind of the audience, to help the audience grow from the stories that are being told, or is it to rally the crowd into judgment and join a particular side of the conflict, debate, war or tragedy?
As story teller we have a choice to make, a choice about what we want to achieve with telling a story. Do we help people explore the different aspects of reality or do we hone in on the one reality we see, present it as the whole truth and nothing but the truth and rally the crowd into judgment.
If all this sounds too theoretical or if you think this only applies to story tellers, let me demonstrate how this plays out on a daily basis in all of our lives.
Some of you know that in a previous life I was a business executive. I was in business development and my main skill was international negotiations. I was once asked by a client to help solve a conflict between a German and an American corporation. Both companies had entered into a business relationship two years earlier, but lately one dispute had let to another and the relationship had gotten really strained. They flew me to Frankfurt to attend a meeting between the management teams of both companies. When the meeting started I just sat in the room, listened and observed as the arguments and accusations where flying from one side of the board room to the other, neither side realizing their could possibly be another side of the reality they were seeing, both seemingly unaware of how they could only win by understanding that other reality and by working together as partners to solve the problems at hand. After thirty minutes of the spectacle, I interrupted the heated drama and put a coffee can in the middle of the table. The coffee can had some distinct markings on one side and was boringly pale on the other side. I asked the management team of one company to describe in detail the coffee can they saw in front of them. Then I asked the same of the management of the other company which was looking at opposite side of the same can. Low and behold, both teams gave an entirely different description of the same coffee can—the same reality at the centre of the table was described differently, both stories were fact based. It was only the cumulative perspectives taken from alternate angles that could present a more complete picture of the reality on the table. Through the simple exercise the teams realized that it was only by putting their pictures together, rather than debating them, that solutions could surface. For the next three days, both management teams worked together and solved all their issues. I didn’t do a thing anymore. Every time someone started debating, someone else reminded them that they were having the coffee can syndrome.
How often do we all suffer from the coffee can syndrome? How often does our judgment get in the way of seeing the alternative perspective of the same reality? Sure we can know and speak our truth, but what makes the truth of someone else less valuable or less right? How much less conflict would there be if we could accept that we can never see or understand the whole truth and nothing but the truth? How much would we learn if we would explore other perspectives and withhold our judgment? How much would we grow as individuals and as a society? Can you imagine the issues we might be able to solve—together?
Friday, February 27, 2009
Community and the mob
This week has been a tough week. As a result this is a long post. However, it was also a week with a lot of new experiences and tons of learning.
My son’s best friend, a young man who is like a son to me, a good natured, helpful and caring 17-year-old teenager was dealt a card at his young age, a card all of us fear, one that would cause each of us nightmares.
When he reached the crest of a hill on a deserted country road while driving his 7-year old brother to school, he suddenly was confronted with a school bus a short distance down the other side of the hill, a bus that had stopped to pick up some young kids for a new day at school. Winter here in the Chinook region tends to melt the snow at some periods, turning it into ice at night. That morning a fresh layer of snow was falling on the ice underneath turning the road into the perfect tobogganing ground, but an impossible condition to stop a car at such short distance for such unexpected circumstances.
When the young driver hit his brakes, his vehicle went into a long slide. He saw the children on the side of the road waiting for the bus driver to give them permission to cross the road. As his vehicle was going to collide into the back of the bus, he thought he could make it in between the bus and the children and avoid hurting anyone. And so he steered his vehicle next to the bus while honking his horn to warn the children and the bus driver. As the brakes blocked the wheels the continuous friction on the tires was reducing the vehicle’s speed, but it wasn’t enough to come to a stand still before reaching the children. By that time two of the three children had made it to the bus but the third had stayed behind on the driveway and when he was about to cross the road, the side of the sliding car hit the 7-year-old boy before it came to a full stop in the ditch a short distance past the bus. While his 7-year-old brother confirmed he was OK, the young teenager jumped out of the car, wrapped the young child (same age as his own brother), who had fallen into the ditch upon contact with the car, in his coat and carried him into the bus. At first it looked like the boy was going to be fine as there was no blood and the vehicle had almost come to a stand still upon impact. But then the little boy started to cough. By then, the father had appeared on the scene. He tried to perform CPR, but despite all prayers and efforts, the young boy passed away. At that moment the lives of all those involved and affected changed forever.
I’ve had a similar loss years ago and know how the hearts of the family members of the 7-year-old are bleeding. My prayers are with them, they will need all the strength and support they can get, not just over the next few days, but over the next weeks, months and years. However, I hadn’t experienced the other side of such tragedy from such close proximity. When such a senseless event destroys lives, lives as they had existed until that day of not one, but of two families (actually I should say three as the bus driver must have been banged up as well), there is heartfelt pain in the hearts of all the involved family members and their extended communities.
Over the days that followed I observed the best and the worst of human nature.
The community came together in support of the family that lost a 7-year old child ready to explore life, but also for a 17-year old young man who had to carry the unimaginable load of having taken that life while attempting to prevent harm to anyone. The community school became a point of coordination for gifts and support for the grieving family. The school children were counseled and told how their fellow school friend had gone to heaven. But those same children, some of which were on that very bus on that tragic morning, inquired about the well being of the teenage driver, who had been a student in the same school just a few years ago. The teachers and the principle mourned and prayed for both. Community members visited the families of both the 7-year-old child who lost his life and the 17-year-old driver. They brought food and heartfelt love and care in an attempt to ease the pain of this tragic event. Both mothers sobbed heartbroken. The father of the death child expressed that he was not blaming the teenager and shared how he remembered being a teen too. The father of the teenager mourned about the loss of life of a child as old as his own son, a child whose parents he knew, a child he was coaching in hockey. And there was off course the teenager, grief stricken unable to breathe and understand why he was not the one who had died that morning.
But as the community was surrounding those who were hurt with care and support, the vultures arrived as well. Armed with cameras and microphones they came attracted by the smell of blood, a smell their crowd feeds on, just like the spectators at Rome’s coliseum two-thousand years ago. Their main purpose off course was not to report the facts, when do we ever see facts these days in the news, nor was it to report on the story of how a community pulled together in a time of tragedy. Their only interest was to find out who they could blame, crucify, feed to the mob which was eagerly waiting, ready, stones in hand, impatient to cast their judgment. Who cared that the police investigation wasn’t finished and would take days due a number of unclear variables that had been in play that very morning. Who cares about thorough investigation and legal process these days, the mob wanted blood; know where to cast their stones.
And this one was obvious; there was a teenage driver involved. Teenagers the embarrassment of society, the villains—or so we treat them all too often—instead of the young adults they are in search of identity, trying to carve out their space in an ever more confused world. Why is it we forget so fast how important those years were for every one of us? And that morning though, it wouldn’t have mattered, anyone of us who would have reached the top of that hill at that very moment would have been in dire straits.
In their desperate search for blood, the media skillfully put together a horrifying story and that night presented the mob with what they were waiting for: a teenager who ignored school bus safety regulations, tried to speed past a bus that was picking up some young innocent children and brutally killed one of them. The mob, eager and content with the bone they were thrown, jumped on it, filling in the blanks about how the mindless teenager had been in a hurry, trailing the bus at close distance, inconsiderately sped by it when it stopped and didn’t even attempt to slow down when he saw the children in the middle of the road. Stones were flying, stupid teenagers, never caring about the world around them, and most certainly this teenager, killing a 7-year-old, he had to hang. And in cyberspace the mob eagerly went on doing just that, despite attempts of community members to ease the emotions and bring a sense of perspective and facts to the mob’s attention. Now I know from whom our children learn to bully in cyberspace.
I have seen the best and the worst of humanity this week. I know who belongs to the caring community but I’m not sure who belongs to the mob. (Forgot to tell that, the mob hides behind pseudo names in cyberspace—cowards!).
The experience has raised many questions in my mind? What makes people so heartless, unable to show any sign of empathy, unable to imagine how life might deal them such a card in the future, unable to acknowledge that life is rarely that black and white, unable to recognize the possibility of an unfortunate story leading to a tragic event. Why, in our culture, do we always have to be able to cast blame, point a finger and judge someone, instead of reaching out, providing support, and caring about one another, despite our mistakes. Is such judgment necessary for us to learn, or is it simply because as long as we are casting stones, we don’t have to look at our own lives and actions, and learn from those? Or is it because when communities become too big, like in our cities, they break down and become a mob? I wonder if smaller communities are more forgiving, more caring, for the simple reason that people know each other and will continue living together. Is it cities that make our hearts cold, just as the concrete that surrounds them? Are cities places where people are unable to care for their neighbor, places that smolder our ability for empathy, places where we have to fend for ourselves and where we learn to distract attention from our own person by pointing to and crucifying someone else? Or is it simply the further we are distanced from the events the harsher our judgment becomes? Are the same people who are caring members of their community on one day, ready to join the mob the next day to condemn another human being they don’t know.
I don’t have any answers to the above questions, but think of this: How would you feel when it is your turn? How would you feel when the mob surrounds you ready to cast its stones? Would you like them to listen to your story, wait for the results of the investigations before casting their stones? Would you like them to feel your pain, your agony and your despair because you can’t turn back time?
How will you feel when it is you turn?
This week, I have seen the best and worst of human nature. This week, I have experienced humanity’s light and shadow side. May more choose to spread their light!
My son’s best friend, a young man who is like a son to me, a good natured, helpful and caring 17-year-old teenager was dealt a card at his young age, a card all of us fear, one that would cause each of us nightmares.
When he reached the crest of a hill on a deserted country road while driving his 7-year old brother to school, he suddenly was confronted with a school bus a short distance down the other side of the hill, a bus that had stopped to pick up some young kids for a new day at school. Winter here in the Chinook region tends to melt the snow at some periods, turning it into ice at night. That morning a fresh layer of snow was falling on the ice underneath turning the road into the perfect tobogganing ground, but an impossible condition to stop a car at such short distance for such unexpected circumstances.
When the young driver hit his brakes, his vehicle went into a long slide. He saw the children on the side of the road waiting for the bus driver to give them permission to cross the road. As his vehicle was going to collide into the back of the bus, he thought he could make it in between the bus and the children and avoid hurting anyone. And so he steered his vehicle next to the bus while honking his horn to warn the children and the bus driver. As the brakes blocked the wheels the continuous friction on the tires was reducing the vehicle’s speed, but it wasn’t enough to come to a stand still before reaching the children. By that time two of the three children had made it to the bus but the third had stayed behind on the driveway and when he was about to cross the road, the side of the sliding car hit the 7-year-old boy before it came to a full stop in the ditch a short distance past the bus. While his 7-year-old brother confirmed he was OK, the young teenager jumped out of the car, wrapped the young child (same age as his own brother), who had fallen into the ditch upon contact with the car, in his coat and carried him into the bus. At first it looked like the boy was going to be fine as there was no blood and the vehicle had almost come to a stand still upon impact. But then the little boy started to cough. By then, the father had appeared on the scene. He tried to perform CPR, but despite all prayers and efforts, the young boy passed away. At that moment the lives of all those involved and affected changed forever.
I’ve had a similar loss years ago and know how the hearts of the family members of the 7-year-old are bleeding. My prayers are with them, they will need all the strength and support they can get, not just over the next few days, but over the next weeks, months and years. However, I hadn’t experienced the other side of such tragedy from such close proximity. When such a senseless event destroys lives, lives as they had existed until that day of not one, but of two families (actually I should say three as the bus driver must have been banged up as well), there is heartfelt pain in the hearts of all the involved family members and their extended communities.
Over the days that followed I observed the best and the worst of human nature.
The community came together in support of the family that lost a 7-year old child ready to explore life, but also for a 17-year old young man who had to carry the unimaginable load of having taken that life while attempting to prevent harm to anyone. The community school became a point of coordination for gifts and support for the grieving family. The school children were counseled and told how their fellow school friend had gone to heaven. But those same children, some of which were on that very bus on that tragic morning, inquired about the well being of the teenage driver, who had been a student in the same school just a few years ago. The teachers and the principle mourned and prayed for both. Community members visited the families of both the 7-year-old child who lost his life and the 17-year-old driver. They brought food and heartfelt love and care in an attempt to ease the pain of this tragic event. Both mothers sobbed heartbroken. The father of the death child expressed that he was not blaming the teenager and shared how he remembered being a teen too. The father of the teenager mourned about the loss of life of a child as old as his own son, a child whose parents he knew, a child he was coaching in hockey. And there was off course the teenager, grief stricken unable to breathe and understand why he was not the one who had died that morning.
But as the community was surrounding those who were hurt with care and support, the vultures arrived as well. Armed with cameras and microphones they came attracted by the smell of blood, a smell their crowd feeds on, just like the spectators at Rome’s coliseum two-thousand years ago. Their main purpose off course was not to report the facts, when do we ever see facts these days in the news, nor was it to report on the story of how a community pulled together in a time of tragedy. Their only interest was to find out who they could blame, crucify, feed to the mob which was eagerly waiting, ready, stones in hand, impatient to cast their judgment. Who cared that the police investigation wasn’t finished and would take days due a number of unclear variables that had been in play that very morning. Who cares about thorough investigation and legal process these days, the mob wanted blood; know where to cast their stones.
And this one was obvious; there was a teenage driver involved. Teenagers the embarrassment of society, the villains—or so we treat them all too often—instead of the young adults they are in search of identity, trying to carve out their space in an ever more confused world. Why is it we forget so fast how important those years were for every one of us? And that morning though, it wouldn’t have mattered, anyone of us who would have reached the top of that hill at that very moment would have been in dire straits.
In their desperate search for blood, the media skillfully put together a horrifying story and that night presented the mob with what they were waiting for: a teenager who ignored school bus safety regulations, tried to speed past a bus that was picking up some young innocent children and brutally killed one of them. The mob, eager and content with the bone they were thrown, jumped on it, filling in the blanks about how the mindless teenager had been in a hurry, trailing the bus at close distance, inconsiderately sped by it when it stopped and didn’t even attempt to slow down when he saw the children in the middle of the road. Stones were flying, stupid teenagers, never caring about the world around them, and most certainly this teenager, killing a 7-year-old, he had to hang. And in cyberspace the mob eagerly went on doing just that, despite attempts of community members to ease the emotions and bring a sense of perspective and facts to the mob’s attention. Now I know from whom our children learn to bully in cyberspace.
I have seen the best and the worst of humanity this week. I know who belongs to the caring community but I’m not sure who belongs to the mob. (Forgot to tell that, the mob hides behind pseudo names in cyberspace—cowards!).
The experience has raised many questions in my mind? What makes people so heartless, unable to show any sign of empathy, unable to imagine how life might deal them such a card in the future, unable to acknowledge that life is rarely that black and white, unable to recognize the possibility of an unfortunate story leading to a tragic event. Why, in our culture, do we always have to be able to cast blame, point a finger and judge someone, instead of reaching out, providing support, and caring about one another, despite our mistakes. Is such judgment necessary for us to learn, or is it simply because as long as we are casting stones, we don’t have to look at our own lives and actions, and learn from those? Or is it because when communities become too big, like in our cities, they break down and become a mob? I wonder if smaller communities are more forgiving, more caring, for the simple reason that people know each other and will continue living together. Is it cities that make our hearts cold, just as the concrete that surrounds them? Are cities places where people are unable to care for their neighbor, places that smolder our ability for empathy, places where we have to fend for ourselves and where we learn to distract attention from our own person by pointing to and crucifying someone else? Or is it simply the further we are distanced from the events the harsher our judgment becomes? Are the same people who are caring members of their community on one day, ready to join the mob the next day to condemn another human being they don’t know.
I don’t have any answers to the above questions, but think of this: How would you feel when it is your turn? How would you feel when the mob surrounds you ready to cast its stones? Would you like them to listen to your story, wait for the results of the investigations before casting their stones? Would you like them to feel your pain, your agony and your despair because you can’t turn back time?
How will you feel when it is you turn?
This week, I have seen the best and worst of human nature. This week, I have experienced humanity’s light and shadow side. May more choose to spread their light!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Corporate Death Penalty
Last night I finally watched The world according to Monsanto. A number of readers of Seeds of Germination or Termination told me I had to watch it. The documentary was produced during the same time I wrote Seeds. Based on the research I had done, I knew the plot of my story was not too far out there. However, the documentary made me realize that I might have set my story too far into the future.
If you cannot get the DVD, I strongly encourage you to watch the videos on YouTube:
The documentary demonstrates how Monsanto's story is one of deceit, pollution, bullying, greed, and an unscrupulous drive to control the world's food supply. Their reach and practices in both the developed and developing world turns farmers back into feudal laborers and public service administrators in feudal servants.
While the video raises a lot of questions about our food safety, farm practices and GMO technology, the bigger question is what it tells us about the state of democracies around the world. When one corporation (and there are others in different industries with similar power) can effectively employ farmers in a feudal system by collecting money of each acre the farmer cultivates, when one corporation can poison entire communities premeditated and settle in court for a few million dollars, when one corporation can influence government administrations around the world to the extend that they ignore, downplay and outright dismiss the warnings of scientist, there is clearly something wrong with democracy and the notion of "by the people, for the people." "By the corporation, for the corporation" seems to be a more accurate description.
But Monsanto executives, (and others) would (and could) tell us they played by the rules. Even when they withheld information about the poisonous nature of their effluents and poisoned men, women and children, even when they falsified scientific research so they could demonstrate the safety of their product, even when they misinformed the public by deliberate lies in their advertising, they always paid their fines as imposed by the legal system. So they came clean.
It's like when you get a speeding ticket. You speed, get caught and pay a fine. Or is it? Well, if you get one speeding ticket after another, your insurance rate goes up and eventually your drivers license gets pulled. Or maybe it compares to drunk driving. You drink, get pulled over, get fined ...and your vehicle is confiscated. You drink, drive, kill someone and go to jail. Mmmmh, I guess that is not a good comparison either. No one ever goes to jail for blatant corporate misbehavior.
Here's the real problem, at one point in time we granted corporations the same legal rights as individuals, but we did not adapt our legal system so that they could be held accountable in the same way. When people die due to corporate negligence or even worse, intended violation of the rules in the pursuit of profits, we should be able to bring criminal charges against the corporation. "Wait!" you say, "but how can you jail a corporation?" We can't, but we certainly can give it the death penalty and close the corporation down. See the problem is that as long as it is cheaper to pay the fines for breaking the rules in comparison to making profits from breaking those rules, corporations not only have an incentive to break the rules, since it is the plight of executives to optimize shareholders profits, we are telling them they should break the rules.
Off course there is the argument that we cannot close a corporation that employees tens of thousands of employees. The economic argument trumps values and ethics once again. But surely according to Adam Smith's invisible hand, there must be other companies that would fill the void, grab market share and hire new employees. And surely we could come up with a transition plan for the company's employees. We have to realize that once unethical behavior immerses a corporate culture, it is beyond saving, and it can never benefit society to keep such entity alive.
If we would want to limit the impact of such drastic action, we might want to consider to limit the size of corporations, which in turn would not allow them to get such influence on governments and effectively become feudal rulers that manipulate democracies to serve their corporate interest. But that is an entirely different topic, something for another blog, another time.
And if you want to protect your family from GMO foods, Greenpeace has a great consumer guide to do just that: http://gmoguide.greenpeace.ca/shoppers_guide.pdf
If you cannot get the DVD, I strongly encourage you to watch the videos on YouTube:
The documentary demonstrates how Monsanto's story is one of deceit, pollution, bullying, greed, and an unscrupulous drive to control the world's food supply. Their reach and practices in both the developed and developing world turns farmers back into feudal laborers and public service administrators in feudal servants.
While the video raises a lot of questions about our food safety, farm practices and GMO technology, the bigger question is what it tells us about the state of democracies around the world. When one corporation (and there are others in different industries with similar power) can effectively employ farmers in a feudal system by collecting money of each acre the farmer cultivates, when one corporation can poison entire communities premeditated and settle in court for a few million dollars, when one corporation can influence government administrations around the world to the extend that they ignore, downplay and outright dismiss the warnings of scientist, there is clearly something wrong with democracy and the notion of "by the people, for the people." "By the corporation, for the corporation" seems to be a more accurate description.
But Monsanto executives, (and others) would (and could) tell us they played by the rules. Even when they withheld information about the poisonous nature of their effluents and poisoned men, women and children, even when they falsified scientific research so they could demonstrate the safety of their product, even when they misinformed the public by deliberate lies in their advertising, they always paid their fines as imposed by the legal system. So they came clean.
It's like when you get a speeding ticket. You speed, get caught and pay a fine. Or is it? Well, if you get one speeding ticket after another, your insurance rate goes up and eventually your drivers license gets pulled. Or maybe it compares to drunk driving. You drink, get pulled over, get fined ...and your vehicle is confiscated. You drink, drive, kill someone and go to jail. Mmmmh, I guess that is not a good comparison either. No one ever goes to jail for blatant corporate misbehavior.
Here's the real problem, at one point in time we granted corporations the same legal rights as individuals, but we did not adapt our legal system so that they could be held accountable in the same way. When people die due to corporate negligence or even worse, intended violation of the rules in the pursuit of profits, we should be able to bring criminal charges against the corporation. "Wait!" you say, "but how can you jail a corporation?" We can't, but we certainly can give it the death penalty and close the corporation down. See the problem is that as long as it is cheaper to pay the fines for breaking the rules in comparison to making profits from breaking those rules, corporations not only have an incentive to break the rules, since it is the plight of executives to optimize shareholders profits, we are telling them they should break the rules.
Off course there is the argument that we cannot close a corporation that employees tens of thousands of employees. The economic argument trumps values and ethics once again. But surely according to Adam Smith's invisible hand, there must be other companies that would fill the void, grab market share and hire new employees. And surely we could come up with a transition plan for the company's employees. We have to realize that once unethical behavior immerses a corporate culture, it is beyond saving, and it can never benefit society to keep such entity alive.
If we would want to limit the impact of such drastic action, we might want to consider to limit the size of corporations, which in turn would not allow them to get such influence on governments and effectively become feudal rulers that manipulate democracies to serve their corporate interest. But that is an entirely different topic, something for another blog, another time.
And if you want to protect your family from GMO foods, Greenpeace has a great consumer guide to do just that: http://gmoguide.greenpeace.ca/shoppers_guide.pdf
Monday, February 9, 2009
Highlight of the day
This post is difficult to write. Sometimes words are so limiting in describing feelings and presence. Today was my birthday. Despite the many wishes, presents and good intentions of all those around me, I did not feel particularly happy, ...nor sad. It was one of those introverted days when the world around me doesn't seem to touch me, or cannot reach me. Not sure what causes those days.
After a delicious dinner (which I cooked :-) I love cooking), my wife and I cuddled on the couch and together with the kids watched Heartland and House. It was a nice evening but not enough to make me write this.
Just before midnight, I decided to step on the deck to greet the full moon and was awestruck with the dominating halo in the dark night sky. It filled the heavens like white foggy flames dancing around a vast black funnel through which the female energies of the full moon were channeled to earth. Never in my life had I seen anything like it. I called those in the house who were still awake to the deck to share the experience.
It was simply magical. The silence of the night, the crisp air on my skin, the bright light of the moon and the mysterious black circle, marked by white fog, almost taking up the entire sky. As I sat outside drinking in the moment, I realized I forgot to let the horses out.
My wife and I had gone for a ride late afternoon and had put our willing steeds in the barn so they could dry up before turning them out with the rest of the herd in the cold of the freezing night. Mike, my horse and friend hates the stalls. So leaving him there overnight wasn't something I was going to let him endure. In a way I was glad he provided me a reason to get outside in this powerful night. So I hiked to the barn to allow my four footed friends to join their brother and sisters .
It is here that words fall short to describe the experience and feelings that immersed my being. I stayed outside for about half an hour, just hanging out with the horses who at first, in the excitement of uniting, were galloping through the snow in the moonlit field. As I was soaking in the night, admired the grace of these majestic animals and reflected on the ride we made earlier in the day, it struck me how lucky I really am to experience all this. Mike, my muscular four footed friend carries me willingly on his back whenever and wherever I want to go. He warms me when I need warmth, runs with me when I desire speed and comforts me when I need a grounding companion. When we ride, I feel his muscles work, his lungs fill with oxygen, his heart beat, and his spirit dance. It's like our souls merge, as one.
Mike doesn't pollute the air, doesn't need gas and doesn't make any roaring sounds. Surely, he cannot carry me in just a few hours to another continent like the metal tubes with wings we fly in, nor can he role me from city to city. But when we hectically travel around the world in our metal transportation boxes, how much of the world do we really see? How much of the magic of life do we really experience? Do we pause to observe the timeless beauty of a tree, the perfect shape of an ice crystal, the cool dry air on our skin, the grace of an animal? Do we let the magic of the winter night sky touch our souls as our hearts soak in peace with creatures who walk on four legs, carry us on their backs and whose language we do not speak?
Nature is such a powerful teacher. I hope many more will explore its lessons so that we can detach of material possessions, silence our machines, slow our pace and allow the magnificence of creation to touch our souls, so that our hearts can experience the radiant joy of light and bathe in peace by simply being and enjoying the moment.
After a delicious dinner (which I cooked :-) I love cooking), my wife and I cuddled on the couch and together with the kids watched Heartland and House. It was a nice evening but not enough to make me write this.
Just before midnight, I decided to step on the deck to greet the full moon and was awestruck with the dominating halo in the dark night sky. It filled the heavens like white foggy flames dancing around a vast black funnel through which the female energies of the full moon were channeled to earth. Never in my life had I seen anything like it. I called those in the house who were still awake to the deck to share the experience.
It was simply magical. The silence of the night, the crisp air on my skin, the bright light of the moon and the mysterious black circle, marked by white fog, almost taking up the entire sky. As I sat outside drinking in the moment, I realized I forgot to let the horses out.
My wife and I had gone for a ride late afternoon and had put our willing steeds in the barn so they could dry up before turning them out with the rest of the herd in the cold of the freezing night. Mike, my horse and friend hates the stalls. So leaving him there overnight wasn't something I was going to let him endure. In a way I was glad he provided me a reason to get outside in this powerful night. So I hiked to the barn to allow my four footed friends to join their brother and sisters .
It is here that words fall short to describe the experience and feelings that immersed my being. I stayed outside for about half an hour, just hanging out with the horses who at first, in the excitement of uniting, were galloping through the snow in the moonlit field. As I was soaking in the night, admired the grace of these majestic animals and reflected on the ride we made earlier in the day, it struck me how lucky I really am to experience all this. Mike, my muscular four footed friend carries me willingly on his back whenever and wherever I want to go. He warms me when I need warmth, runs with me when I desire speed and comforts me when I need a grounding companion. When we ride, I feel his muscles work, his lungs fill with oxygen, his heart beat, and his spirit dance. It's like our souls merge, as one.
Mike doesn't pollute the air, doesn't need gas and doesn't make any roaring sounds. Surely, he cannot carry me in just a few hours to another continent like the metal tubes with wings we fly in, nor can he role me from city to city. But when we hectically travel around the world in our metal transportation boxes, how much of the world do we really see? How much of the magic of life do we really experience? Do we pause to observe the timeless beauty of a tree, the perfect shape of an ice crystal, the cool dry air on our skin, the grace of an animal? Do we let the magic of the winter night sky touch our souls as our hearts soak in peace with creatures who walk on four legs, carry us on their backs and whose language we do not speak?
Nature is such a powerful teacher. I hope many more will explore its lessons so that we can detach of material possessions, silence our machines, slow our pace and allow the magnificence of creation to touch our souls, so that our hearts can experience the radiant joy of light and bathe in peace by simply being and enjoying the moment.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
There is hope for the world. (Ode to Obama)
While a cold has subdued my energy level over the past few days, yesterday's historic US presidential inauguration of President Obama most certainly lifted my spirits.
Men like Obama only come around once in a few centuries. Very humbly he downplays the importance of his persona and gives the credit for his election and the American enthusiasm for change to the American people. It is a kind humble gesture, but nothing is further from the truth. There are so many elements of his person that make him uniquely qualified for this historic moment in time. No one else would fit the bill.
First of there is the obvious, the color of his skin. While I realize the importance to the American people of having an African-American in the White House and how that confirms their constitutional value of equality, I think the media took a rather limited view. As far as I know there hasn't been a black president or prime-minister in any of the developed countries ever (that means white people have claimed the ultimate top leadership positions every since the days of colonization). This is the first time in history that a descendant from a previous colonized nation or oppressed race, climbed to a leadership position of a Western country, and not just any leadership position, but the most powerful one in the world.
Now let's move on from the obvious. Obama has a charisma that I haven't seen matched by any other leader before (not just in America, but in the world). There is something about his statue that almost seems royal, something states-like. He radiates a confidence and entitlement that allow him to manifest what he envisions. It's like he knows that this is his hour, his time and place in history, and he carries it with ease and dignity.
The man is clearly very intelligent. If you listen to his speeches--how he tells stories, never leaves anyone behind, ties people back to their roots, moves their hearts and focuses their minds on the task at hand, all with the perfect balance of empathy, seriousness, resolve and inspiration, every word measured both in tone and value--it is impossible to deny his brilliance.
But all of the above would not give me enough reason to write about him. What does is that in addition to all that Obama is a true idealist, someone who has not given up his dream of a better world. Someone, who realizes that life is a journey, and that this time in history is an opportunity to take a step in the direction of the journey towards a better world, a world we create collectively, a world we co-create together, a world that is simply the sum of our every day actions. And because every human being on the planet always had those dreams of a better world, he inspires hope and inspiration like no one before him. People around the world finally see someone in a position of leadership who is empathic and carries the same dreams they have, but also has the strength in character to lead them towards that vision. And so they all hang on his lips as he speaks to receive his marching orders.
What strengthens his persona even more is the other sides, Obama the father and husband, which he shares genuinely. It allows people to identify with him, like him as a person, not just look at him as their leader.
President Obama is a key figure in history who will not only inspire Americans at this point in time, but who will inspire people across the planet for years to come.
With such an example set, let us all pick up our dreams and start creating that world we all have always dreamed off.
Men like Obama only come around once in a few centuries. Very humbly he downplays the importance of his persona and gives the credit for his election and the American enthusiasm for change to the American people. It is a kind humble gesture, but nothing is further from the truth. There are so many elements of his person that make him uniquely qualified for this historic moment in time. No one else would fit the bill.
First of there is the obvious, the color of his skin. While I realize the importance to the American people of having an African-American in the White House and how that confirms their constitutional value of equality, I think the media took a rather limited view. As far as I know there hasn't been a black president or prime-minister in any of the developed countries ever (that means white people have claimed the ultimate top leadership positions every since the days of colonization). This is the first time in history that a descendant from a previous colonized nation or oppressed race, climbed to a leadership position of a Western country, and not just any leadership position, but the most powerful one in the world.
Now let's move on from the obvious. Obama has a charisma that I haven't seen matched by any other leader before (not just in America, but in the world). There is something about his statue that almost seems royal, something states-like. He radiates a confidence and entitlement that allow him to manifest what he envisions. It's like he knows that this is his hour, his time and place in history, and he carries it with ease and dignity.
The man is clearly very intelligent. If you listen to his speeches--how he tells stories, never leaves anyone behind, ties people back to their roots, moves their hearts and focuses their minds on the task at hand, all with the perfect balance of empathy, seriousness, resolve and inspiration, every word measured both in tone and value--it is impossible to deny his brilliance.
But all of the above would not give me enough reason to write about him. What does is that in addition to all that Obama is a true idealist, someone who has not given up his dream of a better world. Someone, who realizes that life is a journey, and that this time in history is an opportunity to take a step in the direction of the journey towards a better world, a world we create collectively, a world we co-create together, a world that is simply the sum of our every day actions. And because every human being on the planet always had those dreams of a better world, he inspires hope and inspiration like no one before him. People around the world finally see someone in a position of leadership who is empathic and carries the same dreams they have, but also has the strength in character to lead them towards that vision. And so they all hang on his lips as he speaks to receive his marching orders.
What strengthens his persona even more is the other sides, Obama the father and husband, which he shares genuinely. It allows people to identify with him, like him as a person, not just look at him as their leader.
President Obama is a key figure in history who will not only inspire Americans at this point in time, but who will inspire people across the planet for years to come.
With such an example set, let us all pick up our dreams and start creating that world we all have always dreamed off.
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