Category Archives: Consider Reading This

“Live Free or Die”

The following is the latest offering of “Imprimis”.  Imprimis is a publication of Hillsdale College in Hillsdale, Michigan.  It’s a small little magazinelette to which I subscribe.  The monthly offerings are usually very good, this one is a must read.  It’s long, but so very much worth the time it will take to read it. 

Live Free or Die

 

 

MARK STEYN’S column appears in several newspapers, including the Washington Times, Philadelphia’s Evening Bulletin, and the Orange County Register. In addition, he writes for The New Criterion, Maclean’s in Canada, the Jerusalem Post, The Australian, and Hawke’s Bay Today in New Zealand. The author of National Review’s Happy Warrior column, he also blogs on National Review Online. He is the author of several books, including the best-selling America Alone: The End of The World as We Know It. Mr. Steyn teaches a two-week course in journalism at Hillsdale College during each spring semester.

 

The following is adapted from a lecture delivered at Hillsdale College on March 9, 2009.

 

 

 

MY REMARKS are titled tonight after the words of General Stark, New Hampshire’s great hero of the Revolutionary War: “Live free or die!” When I first moved to New Hampshire, where this appears on our license plates, I assumed General Stark had said it before some battle or other—a bit of red meat to rally the boys for the charge; a touch of the old Henry V-at-Agincourt routine. But I soon discovered that the general had made his famous statement decades after the war, in a letter regretting that he would be unable to attend a dinner. And in a curious way I found that even more impressive. In extreme circumstances, many people can rouse themselves to rediscover the primal impulses: The brave men on Flight 93 did. They took off on what they thought was a routine business trip, and, when they realized it wasn’t, they went into General Stark mode and cried “Let’s roll!” But it’s harder to maintain the “Live free or die!” spirit when you’re facing not an immediate crisis but just a slow, remorseless, incremental, unceasing ratchet effect. “Live free or die!” sounds like a battle cry: We’ll win this thing or die trying, die an honorable death. But in fact it’s something far less dramatic: It’s a bald statement of the reality of our lives in the prosperous West. You can live as free men, but, if you choose not to, your society will die.

 

My book America Alone is often assumed to be about radical Islam, firebreathing imams, the excitable young men jumping up and down in the street doing the old “Death to the Great Satan” dance. It’s not. It’s about us. It’s about a possibly terminal manifestation of an old civilizational temptation: Indolence, as Machiavelli understood, is the greatest enemy of a republic. When I ran into trouble with the so-called “human rights” commissions up in Canada, it seemed bizarre to find the progressive left making common cause with radical Islam. One half of the alliance profess to be pro-gay, pro-feminist secularists; the other half are homophobic, misogynist theocrats. Even as the cheap bus ‘n’ truck road-tour version of the Hitler-Stalin Pact, it made no sense. But in fact what they have in common overrides their superficially more obvious incompatibilities: Both the secular Big Government progressives and political Islam recoil from the concept of the citizen, of the free individual entrusted to operate within his own societal space, assume his responsibilities, and exploit his potential.

 

In most of the developed world, the state has gradually annexed all the responsibilities of adulthood—health care, child care, care of the elderly—to the point where it’s effectively severed its citizens from humanity’s primal instincts, not least the survival instinct. Hillary Rodham Clinton said it takes a village to raise a child. It’s supposedly an African proverb—there is no record of anyone in Africa ever using this proverb, but let that pass. P.J. O’Rourke summed up that book superbly: It takes a village to raise a child. The government is the village, and you’re the child. Oh, and by the way, even if it did take a village to raise a child, I wouldn’t want it to be an African village. If you fly over West Africa at night, the lights form one giant coastal megalopolis: Not even Africans regard the African village as a useful societal model. But nor is the European village. Europe’s addiction to big government, unaffordable entitlements, cradle-to-grave welfare, and a dependence on mass immigration needed to sustain it has become an existential threat to some of the oldest nation-states in the world.

 

And now the last holdout, the United States, is embarking on the same grim path: After the President unveiled his budget, I heard Americans complain, oh, it’s another Jimmy Carter, or LBJ’s Great Society, or the new New Deal. You should be so lucky. Those nickel-and-dime comparisons barely begin to encompass the wholesale Europeanization that’s underway. The 44th president’s multi-trillion-dollar budget, the first of many, adds more to the national debt than all the previous 43 presidents combined, from George Washington to George Dubya. The President wants Europeanized health care, Europeanized daycare, Europeanized education, and, as the Europeans have discovered, even with Europeanized tax rates you can’t make that math add up. In Sweden, state spending accounts for 54% of GDP. In America, it was 34%—ten years ago. Today, it’s about 40%. In four years’ time, that number will be trending very Swede-like.

 

But forget the money, the deficit, the debt, the big numbers with the 12 zeroes on the end of them. So-called fiscal conservatives often miss the point. The problem isn’t the cost. These programs would still be wrong even if Bill Gates wrote a check to cover them each month. They’re wrong because they deform the relationship between the citizen and the state. Even if there were no financial consequences, the moral and even spiritual consequences would still be fatal. That’s the stage where Europe is.

 

America is just beginning this process. I looked at the rankings in Freedom in the 50 States published by George Mason University last month. New Hampshire came in Number One, the Freest State in the Nation, which all but certainly makes it the freest jurisdiction in the Western world. Which kind of depressed me. Because the Granite State feels less free to me than it did when I moved there, and you always hope there’s somewhere else out there just in case things go belly up and you have to hit the road. And way down at the bottom in the last five places were Maryland, California, Rhode Island, New Jersey, and the least free state in the Union by some distance, New York.

 

New York! How does the song go? “If you can make it there, you’ll make it anywhere!” If you can make it there, you’re some kind of genius. “This is the worst fiscal downturn since the Great Depression,” announced Governor Paterson a few weeks ago. So what’s he doing? He’s bringing in the biggest tax hike in New York history. If you can make it there, he can take it there—via state tax, sales tax, municipal tax, a doubled beer tax, a tax on clothing, a tax on cab rides, an “iTunes tax,” a tax on haircuts, 137 new tax hikes in all. Call 1-800-I-HEART-NEW-YORK today and order your new package of state tax forms, for just $199.99, plus the 12% tax on tax forms and the 4% tax form application fee partially refundable upon payment of the 7.5% tax filing tax. If you can make it there, you’ll certainly have no difficulty making it in Tajikistan.

 

New York, California… These are the great iconic American states, the ones we foreigners have heard of. To a penniless immigrant called Arnold Schwarzenegger, California was a land of plenty. Now Arnold is an immigrant of plenty in a penniless land: That’s not an improvement. One of his predecessors as governor of California, Ronald Reagan, famously said, “We are a nation that has a government, not the other way around.” In California, it’s now the other way around: California is increasingly a government that has a state. And it is still in the early stages of the process. California has thirtysomething million people. The Province of Quebec has seven million people. Yet California and Quebec have roughly the same number of government workers. “There is a great deal of ruin in a nation,” said Adam Smith, and America still has a long way to go. But it’s better to jump off the train as you’re leaving the station and it’s still picking up speed than when it’s roaring down the track and you realize you’ve got a one-way ticket on the Oblivion Express.

 

“Indolence,” in Machiavelli’s word: There are stages to the enervation of free peoples. America, which held out against the trend, is now at Stage One: The benign paternalist state promises to make all those worries about mortgages, debt, and health care disappear. Every night of the week, you can switch on the TV and see one of these ersatz “town meetings” in which freeborn citizens of the republic (I use the term loosely) petition the Sovereign to make all the bad stuff go away. “I have an urgent need,” a lady in Fort Myers beseeched the President. “We need a home, our own kitchen, our own bathroom.” He took her name and ordered his staff to meet with her. Hopefully, he didn’t insult her by dispatching some no-name deputy assistant associate secretary of whatever instead of flying in one of the bigtime tax-avoiding cabinet honchos to nationalize a Florida bank and convert one of its branches into a desirable family residence, with a swing set hanging where the drive-thru ATM used to be.

 

As all of you know, Hillsdale College takes no federal or state monies. That used to make it an anomaly in American education. It’s in danger of becoming an anomaly in America, period. Maybe it’s time for Hillsdale College to launch the Hillsdale Insurance Agency, the Hillsdale Motor Company and the First National Bank of Hillsdale. The executive supremo at Bank of America is now saying, oh, if only he’d known what he knows now, he wouldn’t have taken the government money. Apparently it comes with strings attached. Who knew? Sure, Hillsdale College did, but nobody else.

 

If you’re a business, when government gives you 2% of your income, it has a veto on 100% of what you do. If you’re an individual, the impact is even starker. Once you have government health care, it can be used to justify almost any restraint on freedom: After all, if the state has to cure you, it surely has an interest in preventing you needing treatment in the first place. That’s the argument behind, for example, mandatory motorcycle helmets, or the creepy teams of government nutritionists currently going door to door in Britain and conducting a “health audit” of the contents of your refrigerator. They’re not yet confiscating your Twinkies; they just want to take a census of how many you have. So you do all this for the “free” health care—and in the end you may not get the “free” health care anyway. Under Britain’s National Health Service, for example, smokers in Manchester have been denied treatment for heart disease, and the obese in Suffolk are refused hip and knee replacements. Patricia Hewitt, the British Health Secretary, says that it’s appropriate to decline treatment on the basis of “lifestyle choices.” Smokers and the obese may look at their gay neighbor having unprotected sex with multiple partners, and wonder why his “lifestyle choices” get a pass while theirs don’t. But that’s the point: Tyranny is always whimsical.

 

And if they can’t get you on grounds of your personal health, they’ll do it on grounds of planetary health. Not so long ago in Britain it was proposed that each citizen should have a government-approved travel allowance. If you take one flight a year, you’ll pay just the standard amount of tax on the journey. But, if you travel more frequently, if you take a second or third flight, you’ll be subject to additional levies—in the interest of saving the planet for Al Gore’s polar bear documentaries and that carbon-offset palace he lives in in Tennessee.

 

Isn’t this the very definition of totalitarianism-lite? The Soviets restricted the movement of people through the bureaucratic apparatus of “exit visas.” The British are proposing to do it through the bureaucratic apparatus of exit taxes—indeed, the bluntest form of regressive taxation. As with the Communists, the nomenklatura—the Prince of Wales, Al Gore, Madonna—will still be able to jet about hither and yon. What’s a 20% surcharge to them? Especially as those for whom vast amounts of air travel are deemed essential—government officials, heads of NGOs, environmental activists—will no doubt be exempted from having to pay the extra amount. But the ghastly masses will have to stay home.

 

“Freedom of movement” used to be regarded as a bedrock freedom. The movement is still free, but there’s now a government processing fee of $389.95. And the interesting thing about this proposal was that it came not from the Labour Party but the Conservative Party.

 

That’s Stage Two of societal enervation—when the state as guarantor of all your basic needs becomes increasingly comfortable with regulating your behavior. Free peoples who were once willing to give their lives for liberty can be persuaded very quickly to relinquish their liberties for a quiet life. When President Bush talked about promoting democracy in the Middle East, there was a phrase he liked to use: “Freedom is the desire of every human heart.” Really? It’s unclear whether that’s really the case in Gaza and the Pakistani tribal lands. But it’s absolutely certain that it’s not the case in Berlin and Paris, Stockholm and London, New Orleans and Buffalo. The story of the Western world since 1945 is that, invited to choose between freedom and government “security,” large numbers of people vote to dump freedom every time—the freedom to make your own decisions about health care, education, property rights, and a ton of other stuff. It’s ridiculous for grown men and women to say: I want to be able to choose from hundreds of cereals at the supermarket, thousands of movies from Netflix, millions of songs to play on my iPod—but I want the government to choose for me when it comes to my health care. A nation that demands the government take care of all the grown-up stuff is a nation turning into the world’s wrinkliest adolescent, free only to choose its record collection.

 

And don’t be too sure you’ll get to choose your record collection in the end. That’s Stage Three: When the populace has agreed to become wards of the state, it’s a mere difference of degree to start regulating their thoughts. When my anglophone friends in the Province of Quebec used to complain about the lack of English signs in Quebec hospitals, my response was that, if you allow the government to be the sole provider of health care, why be surprised that they’re allowed to decide the language they’ll give it in? But, as I’ve learned during my year in the hellhole of Canadian “human rights” law, that’s true in a broader sense. In the interests of “cultural protection,” the Canadian state keeps foreign newspaper owners, foreign TV operators, and foreign bookstore owners out of Canada. Why shouldn’t it, in return, assume the right to police the ideas disseminated through those newspapers, bookstores and TV networks it graciously agrees to permit?

 

When Maclean’s magazine and I were hauled up in 2007 for the crime of “flagrant Islamophobia,” it quickly became very clear that, for members of a profession that brags about its “courage” incessantly (far more than, say, firemen do), an awful lot of journalists are quite content to be the eunuchs in the politically correct harem. A distressing number of Western journalists see no conflict between attending lunches for World Press Freedom Day every month and agreeing to be micro-regulated by the state. The big problem for those of us arguing for classical liberalism is that in modern Canada there’s hardly anything left that isn’t on the state dripfeed to one degree or another: Too many of the institutions healthy societies traditionally look to as outposts of independent thought—churches, private schools, literature, the arts, the media—either have an ambiguous relationship with government or are downright dependent on it. Up north, “intellectual freedom” means the relevant film-funding agency—Cinedole Canada or whatever it’s called—gives you a check to enable you to continue making so-called “bold, brave, transgressive” films that discombobulate state power not a whit.

 

And then comes Stage Four, in which dissenting ideas and even words are labeled as “hatred.” In effect, the language itself becomes a means of control. Despite the smiley-face banalities, the tyranny becomes more naked: In Britain, a land with rampant property crime, undercover constables nevertheless find time to dine at curry restaurants on Friday nights to monitor adjoining tables lest someone in private conversation should make a racist remark. An author interviewed on BBC Radio expressed, very mildly and politely, some concerns about gay adoption and was investigated by Scotland Yard’s Community Safety Unit for Homophobic, Racist and Domestic Incidents. A Daily Telegraph columnist is arrested and detained in a jail cell over a joke in a speech. A Dutch legislator is invited to speak at the Palace of Westminster by a member of the House of Lords, but is banned by the government, arrested on arrival at Heathrow and deported.

 

America, Britain, and even Canada are not peripheral nations: They’re the three anglophone members of the G7. They’re three of a handful of countries that were on the right side of all the great conflicts of the last century. But individual liberty flickers dimmer in each of them. The massive expansion of government under the laughable euphemism of “stimulus” (Stage One) comes with a quid pro quo down the line (Stage Two): Once you accept you’re a child in the government nursery, why shouldn’t Nanny tell you what to do? And then—Stage Three—what to think? And—Stage Four—what you’re forbidden to think . . . .

 

Which brings us to the final stage: As I said at the beginning, Big Government isn’t about the money. It’s more profound than that. A couple of years back Paul Krugman wrote a column in The New York Times asserting that, while parochial American conservatives drone on about “family values,” the Europeans live it, enacting policies that are more “family friendly.” On the Continent, claims the professor, “government regulations actually allow people to make a desirable tradeoff-to modestly lower income in return for more time with friends and family.”

 

As befits a distinguished economist, Professor Krugman failed to notice that for a continent of “family friendly” policies, Europe is remarkably short of families. While America’s fertility rate is more or less at replacement level—2.1—seventeen European nations are at what demographers call “lowest-low” fertility—1.3 or less—a rate from which no society in human history has ever recovered. Germans, Spaniards, Italians and Greeks have upside-down family trees: four grandparents have two children and one grandchild. How can an economist analyze “family friendly” policies without noticing that the upshot of these policies is that nobody has any families?

 

As for all that extra time, what happened? Europeans work fewer hours than Americans, they don’t have to pay for their own health care, they’re post-Christian so they don’t go to church, they don’t marry and they don’t have kids to take to school and basketball and the 4-H stand at the county fair. So what do they do with all the time?

 

Forget for the moment Europe’s lack of world-beating companies: They regard capitalism as an Anglo-American fetish, and they mostly despise it. But what about the things Europeans supposedly value? With so much free time, where is the great European art? Where are Europe’s men of science? At American universities. Meanwhile, Continental governments pour fortunes into prestigious white elephants of Euro-identity, like the Airbus A380, capable of carrying 500, 800, a thousand passengers at a time, if only somebody somewhere would order the darn thing, which they might consider doing once all the airports have built new runways to handle it.

 

“Give people plenty and security, and they will fall into spiritual torpor,” wrote Charles Murray in In Our Hands. “When life becomes an extended picnic, with nothing of importance to do, ideas of greatness become an irritant. Such is the nature of the Europe syndrome.”

 

The key word here is “give.” When the state “gives” you plenty—when it takes care of your health, takes cares of your kids, takes care of your elderly parents, takes care of every primary responsibility of adulthood—it’s not surprising that the citizenry cease to function as adults: Life becomes a kind of extended adolescence—literally so for those Germans who’ve mastered the knack of staying in education till they’re 34 and taking early retirement at 42. Hilaire Belloc, incidentally, foresaw this very clearly in his book The Servile State in 1912. He understood that the long-term cost of a welfare society is the infantilization of the population.

 

Genteel decline can be very agreeable—initially: You still have terrific restaurants, beautiful buildings, a great opera house. And once the pressure’s off it’s nice to linger at the sidewalk table, have a second café au lait and a pain au chocolat, and watch the world go by. At the Munich Security Conference in February, President Sarkozy demanded of his fellow Continentals, “Does Europe want peace, or do we want to be left in peace?” To pose the question is to answer it. Alas, it only works for a generation or two. And it’s hard to come up with a wake-up call for a society as dedicated as latterday Europe to the belief that life is about sleeping in.

 

As Gerald Ford liked to say when trying to ingratiate himself with conservative audiences, “A government big enough to give you everything you want is big enough to take away everything you have.” And that’s true. But there’s an intermediate stage: A government big enough to give you everything you want isn’t big enough to get you to give any of it back. That’s the position European governments find themselves in. Their citizens have become hooked on unaffordable levels of social programs which in the end will put those countries out of business. Just to get the Social Security debate in perspective, projected public pension liabilities are expected to rise by 2040 to about 6.8% of GDP in the U.S. In Greece, the figure is 25%—i.e., total societal collapse. So what? shrug the voters. Not my problem. I want my benefits. The crisis isn’t the lack of money, but the lack of citizens—in the meaningful sense of that word.

 

Every Democrat running for election tells you they want to do this or that “for the children.” If America really wanted to do something “for the children,” it could try not to make the same mistake as most of the rest of the Western world and avoid bequeathing the next generation a leviathan of bloated bureaucracy and unsustainable entitlements that turns the entire nation into a giant Ponzi scheme. That’s the real “war on children” (to use another Democrat catchphrase)—and every time you bulk up the budget you make it less and less likely they’ll win it.

 

Conservatives often talk about “small government,” which, in a sense, is framing the issue in leftist terms: they’re for big government. But small government gives you big freedoms—and big government leaves you with very little freedom. The bailout and the stimulus and the budget and the trillion-dollar deficits are not merely massive transfers from the most dynamic and productive sector to the least dynamic and productive. When governments annex a huge chunk of the economy, they also annex a huge chunk of individual liberty. You fundamentally change the relationship between the citizen and the state into something closer to that of junkie and pusher—and you make it very difficult ever to change back. Americans face a choice: They can rediscover the animating principles of the American idea—of limited government, a self-reliant citizenry, and the opportunities to exploit your talents to the fullest—or they can join most of the rest of the Western world in terminal decline. To rekindle the spark of liberty once it dies is very difficult. The inertia, the ennui, the fatalism is more pathetic than the demographic decline and fiscal profligacy of the social democratic state, because it’s subtler and less tangible. But once in a while it swims into very sharp focus. Here is the writer Oscar van den Boogaard from an interview with the Belgian paper De Standaard. Mr. van den Boogaard, a Dutch gay “humanist” (which is pretty much the trifecta of Eurocool), was reflecting on the accelerating Islamification of the Continent and concluding that the jig was up for the Europe he loved. “I am not a warrior, but who is?” he shrugged. “I have never learned to fight for my freedom. I was only good at enjoying it.” In the famous Kubler-Ross five stages of grief, Mr. van den Boogard is past denial, anger, bargaining and depression, and has arrived at a kind of acceptance.

 

“I have never learned to fight for my freedom. I was only good at enjoying it.” Sorry, doesn’t work—not for long. Back in New Hampshire, General Stark knew that. Mr. van den Boogard’s words are an epitaph for Europe. Whereas New Hampshire’s motto—”Live free or die!”—is still the greatest rallying cry for this state or any other. About a year ago, there was a picture in the papers of Iranian students demonstrating in Tehran and waving placards. And what they’d written on those placards was: “Live free or die!” They understand the power of those words; so should we.

 …

 

 


Just WHO Is a “Flat-Earther”, Mr. Gore?

Al Gore calls me a “Flat-Earther” because I don’t believe him when he speaks of “climate change” and “global warming”.

I have, for the most part, spared my blog and its readership from listening to me try to dispel the myth and the con that is “global warming”.  I just don’t have the time, the energy, or quite frankly the vocabulary for it.  I am all for “reduce, reuse, and recycle” where it’s possible.  No need to be wasteful and a resources glutton.  However I have always believed in my guts (I grew up with lots of greenies around me long before the term ever existed), and later when I was able to learn and comprehend scientific principals more, I believed in my head as well, that “climate change” as it has been sold to and bought by the American public especially,  is bunk and a sham.  With some snake oil (carbon crediting) thrown in, to boot.

Enter Mr. Harld Ambler OF THE HUFFINGTON POST OF ALL PLACES (!!!!!) who has written an article of such clarity that I feel compelled to say that I only WISH I could have written it…

Brought to you by the Huffington Post, a GREAT article on the great con…

Read this incredibly well-crafted article and see what you think about it.

Do I believe that Al Gore, the Goracle, will ever step back from the embarrassing, simplistic, and overreaching stand he has taken on “Global Warming”?  No, I do not.  He is making way to much money on it, and I think in his heart of heart he actually believes that he is 100% correct.  It begs the question….”Just WHO is living on a flat earth?”


We were meant to live for so much more…

(“Meant to Live” by Switchfoot)

“Holy Discontent”.  I just finished reading it.  The book I read before that was “Sacred Romance”. 

Read these books. 

“Sacred Romance” is by John Eldredge and Brent Curtis.  “Holy Discontent” is by Bill Hybels.


A Simple Truth

I’m reading a really great book by Rob Bell called “Velvet Elvis“.  In it he discusses truth and how it can be found all over the place, even in places where we may not expect to find it.  Because Jesus is truth, and Jesus is fully God, and because God is EVERYWHERE, then truth, by extension can ALSO be found everywhere.

I was watching a TV show the other day and on it there was a card reading psychic.  She was talking about decision making.  While I’ve known what she said to be true, she put it sooooo succinctly.  When it comes to making a difficult decision you have two things to evaluate:

“What would fear choose?”

“What would love choose?”

The Bible tells us that God is not a god of fear, but is a God of love.  It tells us that perfect love casts out all fear

I’m not telling you this to give credence to psychics.  In fact I believe that because psychics get enough things right, and speak enough truth, people are drawn to them.  They are, however, not the good choice when it comes to getting guidance and hearing the TRUTH.  God IS truth and love, so why seek a psychic who only gets it partly right, and leaves the one true God out of the picture, or only gives Him lip service?  Why not go straight to the ultimate source?  No, I’m telling you this story to share with you from where our decision making should come.  It should not be born out of a spirit of fear.  It should be born out of a spirit of love.

When I look back on my life and tease out the really bad decisions I have made, I can directly link those decisions to fear.  The fear of one thing, instead of the love of another, was the basis on which every one of those decisions were made.

Now, go, and make good choices. 

And read “Velvet Elvis”, too.  It’s a super good book.

… 


“The Razor’s Edge”

Years ago (gosh, maybe four or five by now), my friend Richard gave me a copy of ”The Razor’s Edge” to read.  My copy looks exactly like this picture, in fact.  Richard gave me the book to read because it would help me to understand who he (Richard) is.  Rich is an ER doctor.  This line of work allows him lots of time for travel.  He is one of the only people I know who has to get more pages stuck in his passport long before it’s set to expire.  The last time he went in for more pages they made him get a new one because his was so worn and so crammed with stamps, stickers, and visas.  What was I to learn of my friend in reading this book?

I started to read the book I don’t know how many times but never got further than a chapter into it.  It didn’t capture me back then. 

While recently going through a couple of boxes I’d brought from California but hadn’t unpacked yet, I came across the book again.  I started to read it again, for about the twentieth time.  Only this time it captured me.

The title comes from a quote taken from a book called Katha Upanishad:

“The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over;

thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard.”

- Swami Krishnananda

But THIS is my favorite part of the book:

“I feel it right to warn the reader that he can very well skip this chapter without losing the thread of such story as I have to tell, since for the most part it is nothing more than the account of a conversation that I had with Larry.  I should add, however, that except for the conversation I should not have thought it worth while to write this book.”

Talk about your caveat emptors!  I wonder why indeed he wrote such a sentence!  Was it to push us away and draw us in at the same time??  Here I had read 242 pages so far, and I reach the part that 1) the writer thinks would be okay if I skip, and yet, 2) promises that within the chapter lies the reason for the book to have been written in the first place!  So curious!

By then, with 70 odd pages to go, I had clearly identified Larry to Rich.  Larry and Rich both are on a spiritual quest.  But I already knew that about Rich.  What I didn’t know was that Rich knew he was on a spiritual quest.  I haven’t seen or talked to him (Rich) since I moved away from California.  I imagine he’s still roaming the earth looking for the answers to the questions of life.  Perhaps I’ll look him up when I’m out there next week and ask him how his search is going.  That is, if he’s not in Thailand, or climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, or diving a reef off of New Guinea. 

He’ll be glad to know that I’ve finally finished the book.

“Somehow or other I did them good.  I found I was able to relieve people not only of pain but of fear.  It’s strange how many people suffer from it.  I don’t mean fear of closed spaces and fear of heights, but fear of death and, what’s worse, fear of life.  Often they’re people who seem in the best of health, prosperous, without any worry, and yet they’re tortured by it.”

- Larry

I liked the book.  I’d never read W. Somerset Maugham before.  I like his style of writing, at least in this novel.  Very familiar, very fluid.  I liked his vocabulary, both the English and the French (that he liberally sprinkled throughout).  It’s not often (spoiler alert of a sort) that everyone in the end of a story gets what they wanted and yet have the story not seem overly contrived or end how I’d consider happily.  This is a well-told story.

I see that Bill Murray starred in a version of this movie.  I think I’ll be renting it.  I would love to see his interpretation of the character, Larry.


The $10 Solution

As it is a very cold and inhospitable day outside, today I decided to catch up on reading my growing pile of periodicals.  I am on my fourth issue of TIME Magazine.  Much to my delight, I came across an article which deals with yet another inexpensive way to curb the ravages of malaria in Africa.  Read the full article (it’s short).

TIME’s “The $10 Solution

If you are not currently doing anything to help this epidemic, please consider forgoing a few Starbuck’s coffees and making a donation to one of the organizations listed in the article. 


The Fox and the Little Prince

It was then that the fox appeared. "Good morning" said the fox."Good morning" the little prince responded politely
although when he turned around he saw nothing.

"I'm right here" the voice said, "under the apple tree."

"Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added,
"You're very pretty to look at."

"I'm a fox", the fox said.

"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince, "I'm so unhappy."

"I can't play with you," the fox said, "I'm not tamed."

"Ah! Please excuse me,"said the little prince.
But after some thought, he added: "What does that mean—'tame'?"

"You do not live here," said the fox, "What is it you're looking for?"

"I'm looking for men," said the little prince. "What does that mean—tame?"

"Men,"said the fox, "they've guns, and they hunt. It's very disturbing.
They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"

"No," said the little prince. "I'm looking for friends. What does that mean—tame?"

"It's an act too often neglected," said the fox. "It means to establish ties."

"To establish ties?"

"Just that," said the fox. "to me, you're still nothing more than a little boy
who's just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you.
And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you I'm nothing more than a fox
like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other.
To me, you'll be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world …"

"I'm beginning to understand," said the little prince.
"There's a flower. . .I think she has tamed me…"

"It is possible," said the fox. "On earth one sees all sorts of things."

"Oh but this is not on the earth!" said the little prince.

The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious.
"On another planet?"

"Yes"

"Are there hunters on that planet?"

"No"

"Ah that's interesting! Are there chickens?"

"No"

"Nothing is perfect," sighed the fox.
But he came back to his idea.
"My life's very monotonous," he said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me.
All chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike.
And in consequence, I am a little bored.
But if you tame me, it'll be as if the sun came to shine on my life.
I shall know the sound of a step that'll be different from all the others.
Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground.
Yours will call me, like music out of my burrow.
And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder?
I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me.
The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad.
But you have hair that is the color of gold.
Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me!
The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you.
And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…"

The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.
"Please—tame me!" he said.

"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I've not much time.
I've friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."

"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox.
"Men have no more time to understand anything.
They buy things all ready made at the shops.
But there's no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship,
and so men have no friends any more.
If you want a friend, tame me…"

"What must I do, to tame you? asked the little prince.

"You must be very patient," replied the fox.
First you'll sit down at a little distance from me – like that – in the grass.
I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing.
Words are the source of misunderstandings.
But you'll sit a little closer to me, every day…"

The next day the little prince came back.

"It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox.
"If for example, you came at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock
I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances.
At four o'clock, I shall be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am!
But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour
my heart is ready to greet you… One must observe the proper rites…"

"What's a rite?" asked the little prince.

"Those also are actions too often neglected," said the fox.
"they're what make one day different from other days, one hour different from other hours.
There's a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they danse with the village girls.
So Thursday's a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards.
But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day,
and I should never have any vacation at all."

So the little prince tamed the fox.
And when the hour of his departure drew near—

"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."

"It's your own fault," said the little prince.
"I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you…"

"Yes that is so", said the fox.

"But now you're going to cry!" said the little prince.

"Yes that is so" said the fox.

"Then it has done you no good at all!"

"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields."
And then he added: "go and look again at the roses.
You'll understand now that yours is unique in all the world.
Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."

The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
"You're not at all like my rose," he said.
"As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one.
You're like my fox when I first knew him.
He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes.
But I have made a friend, and now he's unique in all the world."
And the roses were very much embarrassed.
"You're beautiful, but you're empty," he went on. "One could not die for you.
To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you
–the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she's more important
than all the hundreds of you other roses:
because it is she that I have watered;
because it is she that I have put under the glass globe;
because it is for her that I've killed the caterpillars
(except the two or three we saved to become butterflies);
because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled,
or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing.
Because she is MY rose."

And he went back to meet the fox.
"Goodbye" he said.

"Goodbye," said the fox.
"And now here's my secret, a very simple secret:
It is only with the heart that one can see rightly;
what is essential is invisible to the eye."

"What is essential is invisible to the eye,"
the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."

"It is the time I have wasted for my rose–"
said the little prince so he would be sure to remember.

"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it.
You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.
You are responsible for your rose…"

"I am responsible for my rose,"
the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

From "The Little Prince" by Antoine de St. Exupery.  A most lovely chapter from a most lovely book.

What, then, do you do after you've been tamed, and when you've "wasted" so much time on your "rose", and when you hear the wind in the wheatfield and it makes you think of a golden-haired boy…but nobody comes to meet you at 4:00 anymore?  What, then?

(Is everything still a wheatfield?)


Illusions

 

One of the books I read for the first time about a gazillion years ago is Illusions, by Richard Bach.  It chronicles the "adventures of a reluctant messiah".  And it is chock full of really great quotes. Here are a few for you to ponder:

"The simplest questions are the most profound. Where were you born? Where is your home? Where are you going? What are you doing? Think about these once in a while, and watch your answers change." 

"You teach best what you most need to learn."

"Your friends will know you better in the first minute you meet than your acquaintances will know you in a thousand years."

 "Here is a test to find whether your mission on earth is finished….If you're alive, it isn't."

 "The best way to avoid responsibility is to say 'I've got responsibilities'."

 "There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hands.  You seek problems because you need their gifts."

"The more I want to get something done, the less I call it work."

"Argue for your limitations and sure enough, they're yours."

"In order to live freely and happily, you must sacrifice boredom. It is not always an easy sacrifice."

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly. "

"You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it true. You may have to work for it, however."

"A cloud does not know why it moves in just such a direction and at just such a speed. It feels an impulsion…this is the place to go now. But the sky knows the reasons and patterns behind all clouds, and you will know, too, when you lift yourself high enough to see beyond horizons."

"The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof."

"Don't be dismayed at good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends."

If you like these, chances are, you might just like the book…

Thanks for the recommendation, Ramona!


From “A Grief Observed”

I love quotes.  This is one I put in my book of quotes back when I was a teenager, and in the depths of grief over loss of a relationship.  It was brought to my mind again today.

"Is this last note a sign that I'm incurable, that when reality smashes my dream to bits, I mope and snarl while the first shock lasts, and then, patiently, idiotically, start putting it together again?  And so always?  However often the house of cards falls, shall I set about rebuilding it?  Is that what I'm doing now?"    

C.S. Lewis


The Problem of Pain

This is the title of a book I am currently reading by C.S. Lewis (the author of the now really famous "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe").  C.S. Lewis, though raised protestant, struggled for many years with religious doubt.  But he eventually became a Christian; a fervent, vocal, and evangelical Christian.

This book is lofty.  In it he discusses St. Augustine, Aristotle and Kant.  And he seeks to answer this question for us:

"If God is good and all-powerful, why does he allow his creatures to suffer pain?"

That is a general synopsis.  I wish to simply share some thoughts in regards to one very small excerpt from this book.

In chapter six, entitled Human Pain, he discusses the issue of motivation and "tests".  He quotes as an example Abraham's trial when he was ordered to sacrifice his son Isaac.  Lewis was not concerned with the historicity or the morality of the story.  He was concerned with what he called "the obvious question".  That being "If God is omniscient He must have known what Abraham would do, without any experiment; why, then, this needless torture?"  In response to that question Lewis says this:  "But as St. Augustine points out, whatever God knew, Abraham at any rate did not know (emphasis mine) that his obedience could endure such a command until the event taught him: and the obedience which he did not know that he would choose, he cannot be said to have chosen.  The reality of Abraham's obedience was the act itself; and what God knew in knowing that Abraham 'would obey' was Abraham's actual obedience on that mountain top at that moment.  To say that God 'need not have tried the experiement' is to say that because God knows, the thing known by God need not exist." 

My conclusion, therefore, is that testing is put forth not that we can prove ourselves to God, but so that we can prove ourselves to ourselves.  Pain, therefore, because of it's outcome, is not to be bemoaned nor railed against, but embraced and met head on.  And, since our greatest pains are born out of human relationships, it then stands to reason that we need to accept others and the pain they cause us as an opportunity, and conversely, we need to be mindful of the fact that for others, we just might be that instrument of pain.  This is not an excuse for purposefully causing pain.  Neither is it an invitation to cause pain. Rather just a reminder that we are all IN the process, and part OF the process as well.  It is an intricate tapestry that God weaves to bring just the right people together at just the right time.  I do not put forth that we should SEEK pain.  That simply goes against human nature.  But when it is neither right nor prudent nor possible (as in the case of the pain of physical illness) to avoid the pain, it needs to be evaluated and acted upon.  None of these conculsions are Lewis'.  They are simply ideas that I am mulling over in my mind.

This is only one aspect of pain that is discussed in this book which is rich in its explanation of the nature of pain, the results of pain, and the purposes of pain.  It is a book that anyone who struggles with understanding the goodness of God in a painful world should certainly read.  It will serve to cause deep reflection if not a better understanding.

Remembering always that in the midst of pain and suffering, we can still find joy…

(Because of the informal nature of blogging I am not providing footnotes and references.  However, if you are unfamiliar with the story of Abraham and Isaac you should read it):

Genesis 22

 1And it came to pass after these things, that God did tempt Abraham, and said unto him, Abraham: and he said, Behold, here I am.

 2And he said, Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of.

 3And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and saddled his ass, and took two of his young men with him, and Isaac his son, and clave the wood for the burnt offering, and rose up, and went unto the place of which God had told him.

 4Then on the third day Abraham lifted up his eyes, and saw the place afar off.

 5And Abraham said unto his young men, Abide ye here with the ass; and I and the lad will go yonder and worship, and come again to you.

 6And Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering, and laid it upon Isaac his son; and he took the fire in his hand, and a knife; and they went both of them together.

 7And Isaac spake unto Abraham his father, and said, My father: and he said, Here am I, my son. And he said, Behold the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?

 8And Abraham said, My son, God will provide himself a lamb for a burnt offering: so they went both of them together.

 9And they came to the place which God had told him of; and Abraham built an altar there, and laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood.

 10And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son.

 11And the angel of the LORD called unto him out of heaven, and said, Abraham, Abraham: and he said, Here am I.

 12And he said, Lay not thine hand upon the lad, neither do thou any thing unto him: for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me.

 13And Abraham lifted up his eyes, and looked, and behold behind him a ram caught in a thicket by his horns: and Abraham went and took the ram, and offered him up for a burnt offering in the stead of his son.

 14And Abraham called the name of that place Jehovahjireh: as it is said to this day, In the mount of the LORD it shall be seen.

 15And the angel of the LORD called unto Abraham out of heaven the second time,

 16And said, By myself have I sworn, saith the LORD, for because thou hast done this thing, and hast not withheld thy son, thine only son:

 17That in blessing I will bless thee, and in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the stars of the heaven, and as the sand which is upon the sea shore; and thy seed shall possess the gate of his enemies;

 18And in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed; because thou hast obeyed my voice.


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