AftermathFrom Menletter November 2004 By Tim Baehr OK, the election's over, and those of us who are unhappy with the results have had a little time to regroup. Morbid fascinationWhere do we go from here? I've seen a variety of reactions. As
I write this, some people are still hoping for a recount in There is a lot of rage, a lot of fear for the future. Some people are taking action. Some want to leave the country. Some want to stay and fight. Some have proposed secession among the Blue states. Some have talked about an urban archipelago of progressives and liberals that stretches across the country and could be united by . . . oh, it goes on and on. The Democratic Party seems to be in turmoil if seen from one angle, and selling out to pander to religious fundamentalists if seen from another. Initially, I had a morbid fascination in all this; I became a Salon.com junkie, reading about the dire predictions for our country under a "faith-based" regime, the growing parallels between our country and (1) totalitarian regimes or (2) banana republics, the invitations from Canadians to come live with them, and more. Rages and stagesMy friend Sparrow sent me some information about the At one point, I wrote him, "One thing that all the news - both left and right - tends to do (in my opinion) is make most of us feel outraged and powerless. Sometimes I wonder if being "well informed" simply means being angry and depressed.
"Most of us cannot act on a national stage, not even in a supporting role." Sparrow answered, "Sometimes it just feels good to be angry. I think we have to embrace our anger and our outrage."
A good point. But that made me remember James Hillman: "James Hillman talked years ago about inrage and outrage. In the face of the outrageous aspects of life, we become depressed and seek therapy for our depression (inrage) - when we should be turning outward to address the outrages. Good distinction. The stage on which this all plays out is enormous, and society would be much better off if we realized that having even a bit part in the drama is better than sitting on our thumbs. We can't all be hotshot directors and producers." I was thinking of Michael Moore, who produced Fahrenheit 9/11 and is working on a sequel. But what about the directing and producing we can do on a more local, more personal level? For those of us who can act on the larger stage, we can bring tolerance, compassion, honesty, kindness in the face of countervailing pressures from our opponents and even from within our own ranks. I believe these qualities, and others, are needed for long-term survival and success. And for those of us acting on a much, much smaller stage, the source of our actions can be identical: tolerance, compassion, honesty, kindness. The idea is to make the world better one person at a time - with our family, our co-workers, the people who wait on us in stores, the strangers on the subway. If we also have the talent, opportunity, and inclination to apply these principles in our towns and states, so much the better. Scaling downSomething else has been bothering me about our society, even before the election. We seem to be ever more immersed in a culture that is dominated by large corporations that control the goods, services, and media. According to some analysts, they also control the government, or large portions of it. A massive boycott of large corporations would be impracticable and largely ineffective. But what if at least some of us were committed to leading a more local, more intentional, simpler life? What I mean is looking for opportunities to spend our time, money, and energy in our own communities and neighborhoods, interacting mostly with businesses and institutions that are run or owned by our neighbors. What I mean is being conscious of how we consume and what kind of paying and non-paying work we do. Here are some things I have in mind for trying to lead a more humane life. 1. I'll continue to buy and bank locally, avoiding dealing with large corporations as much as possible. The huge chain store may be able to knock a few dollars off my next toaster, but the woman who runs the little kitchen shop in my neighborhood deserves my business. I just refinanced my house with a small, local bank where the manager knows me and my wife by name and didn't require eight forms of ID and our firstborn son to open an account. The computers in our house are not major brands; they were built by a small shop of enthusiasts who care about their customers. This is not to punish the bigwigs; they couldn't care less - it's to find an island of sanity and civility in a world in which we are increasingly becoming demographics and not people. 2. Similarly, I'll try to buy at least some things used. Let someone else pay for the "novelty tax." In the past 20 years, we've had just one absolutely new car, for instance. And some of my clothes come from Boomerangs, a resale shop whose proceeds benefit the AIDS Action Committee. 3. I'm dropping out, sort of. We discovered that the equity in our house and a small inheritance will allow us more flexibility in choosing both paid and volunteer work. I'll continue part-time teaching and look for other things I can do that feed me and benefit others. My big-company job was very rewarding; my boss was terrific, and the company's benefits were among the best and most humane. But it was no longer a good fit. I was also getting frustrated by how little energy I had left to do other things that mattered. 4. Men's work, including this newsletter, will continue to be a way to give of myself to other men. I've seen such kindness, compassion, and awareness arising out of all sorts of men's work that I want to be more a part of it. I am convinced that, to the extent that men become more fully men, society as a whole benefits. 5. Other things that feed me have too long been in the background, gathering dust: writing poetry, meditating, reading. I will redouble my efforts to make them a more active part of my life. These modest things aren't specifically addressed at Stronger, more clever, better-equipped, and better-connected people may be able to do much more than I could even dream of doing, and on a much larger scale. But what if each of us simply did our little bit rather than
sinking into despair and cynicism? Maybe it's time for all of us to make our
personal list of what we can, and will, do. ©Copyright 2004 by Tim Baehr Menletter
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