Unpacked: A Walker Returns Home

Condolences to the Kranzler family, whose Ipod died on their way to work this morning.

The Kranzlers will be sitting Shiva, the seven customary days of mourning, in their Jerusalem apartment this week. All are welcome to hear stories of music and downloads, harmonies and instrumentals. 

May we pray together for resurrection of the dead, when man and his deceased machines will rejoice together in Zion.

So what does it say about our culture that we relate to stuff’s expiration, in the same language as we do our own?

“My pen died.” “My phone died.” My stuff, died. Yesterday, I told the mechanic that our car died. Died?

It makes me think. When our car dies, who mourns its loss? Us? Yet-to-perish Renaults? Do all cars begin to think about taking functionality for granted, and start saying to each other, “You know, it really makes you think…”?

How will our car be judged in heavenly court? As the vehicle that takes us dependably to work, that hosts us comfortably in its breast, and provides us with air conditioning and pretty music? Would it be damned for fuel inefficiency, as the Hybrids gallop by on their way to heaven? When confronted by God about climate change, will our car be able to say “I was just following orders?”

Another question: When rechargeable batteries die, what spiritual force reenters them through the socket in the wall, bringing them back to us again? Should we not call them Reincarnate-able Batteries instead?

I’m not sure what we’re implying when we speak of things dying. Is it that they are as important to us as living things? Do we not appreciate actual death?

It’s ironic, really, to use a human-defining ability like language to humanize things not human.

I’d like to think that speaking of things dying is just a coincidence. That it neither reflects nor influences our perception of objects, or our understanding of life.

But I worry that I’m wrong.

Is the chopping down of the trees that make my paper, as disturbing to me as the temporary death of my cellphone?

Am I that bothered when billions of creatures and their ecosystems are destroyed to provide space and fuel to give life to the objects I call my own?

And when I speak of things dying all the time, every day- when I can make them come back to life so easily by plugging them into the wall or getting them fixed- will I understand or feel pain, when real people suffer or are killed all over the world?

In any case, the Kranzlers are okay, despite their Ipod running out of battery on their way to work. In fact, they welcome you to come and listen to music on their newly reincarnated Ipod, who they now believe to be a Gilgul (reincarnation) of a Walkman.

Come come all, as together we’ll celebrate the genius of real, live humans, and enjoy their ability to create really, really great things.

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I’d like to Unpack this week with some quotes, from William Coperthwaite’s A Handmade Life: In Search of Simplicity.

So this is an important book. About breaking free from the over-stuff-ization that accounts for much of modern man’s struggles. I’ve been reading my sister Liron’s copy for a few months now, and Mr. Coperthwaite’s wisdom has been instrumental in helping me learn to Unpack the slowness and simplicity of the backcountry in my life in the city. Thanks Liron!

As you may recall, I apologized publicly to my kitchen knife a few months ago, after the knife complained of its woes in its kitchen drawer. Little did I know that Mr. Coperthwaite believes in apologizing to stuff, as well!

Says Mr. Coperthwaite:

“Have you ever had the experience of apologizing to an inanimate object? When we drop a cup and break it, we violate its nature. All things, be they living or inanimate, have their own nature, spirit, or essence. Whenever we come into contact with anything, we either promote or hinder that essential nature. Unless we seek to understand the nature of the things that surround us, we will be a hindrance rather than a help to our world.

“Developing sensitivity and awareness by searching for the basic nature of things is the road to understanding. When we drop and break a cup, we do violence to its spirit, its purpose, and to the work of the artisan who shaped it. We owe the cup an apology.

“Whether running a canoe aground, dulling a chisel on a nail, or puncturing a tire- instead of cursing, we owe an apology. You may respond that the object has no feelings. I would tend to agree with you. But apologies are both given and received, and the effect on the giver may be more important than the effect on the recipient.”

Mr. Coperthwaite brings some pretty incredible quotes with him in A Handmade Life, and while I’m already quoting, I’d like to share two of my favorites:

“You say, ‘Isnt it sad that a diamond, when seen to its essence, is nothing but common carbon?’ I say, ‘Isn’t it wonderful that common carbon, in its most developed form, is the finest of diamonds?’ You say, ‘Isn’t it sad that altruism, when seen in its basic structure, is nothing but base selfishness?’ I say, ‘Isn’t it marvelous that base selfishness, in its most enlightened form, is the purest of altruism?’”

-Pierre Ceresole (Swiss Engineer, 1879-1945)

And (You may recognize part of this quote from Liron Kranzler’s music/Doogree Records):

“When you work you are a flute

through whose heart the whispering

of the hours turns to music.

To love life through labor is to be intimate

with life’s inmost secret.

All work is empty save when there is love,

for work is love made visible.”

-Khalil Ghibran (Lebanese-American Poet, 1883-1931)

(I love that “work is love made visible” part. Kinda sounds like marriage…)

May our work open us up to what we already have,

A simple week to all,

Yannai

Heard any good quotes lately? Share Share!

Thank God. We’ve finally got it. We are entitled.

It has become the fashion to put down my generation for living in an “Age of Entitlement,” a “Cult of Self-Esteem” and for being spoiled, arrogant and narcissistic.

I’ve heard and read these descriptions and similar ones in the context of young people not wearing suits in the workplace, parents’ and educators’ frustration at motivating/controlling teens, even in cynical reactions to college students’ excitement about Barak Obama and the silly belief that the world could be better.

Part of me wants to say that older people have always called younger people spoiled. I imagine that Mitch the teenage caveman’s dad nagged him about cave-children thinking they were entitled to everything, just expecting stuff to be hunted and gathered to the cave all by itself. I am positive that cave-parents complained to each other all the time that “Kids these days just can’t imagine a reality without fire.”

And I could write it off like that. But that would only be partially true. Today’s critics are right: We have evolved into believing in our own entitlement. I just think it’s a good thing.

A solid chunk of history behind us, we’ve moved past believing that gods didn’t care whether we were good enough, to flagellating ourselves because we could never be good enough, to thinking that if we tried hard, we could “Make something out of ourselves” and become good enough, to finally realizing:

Hey- we are good enough. Now. From the beginning. We are something, before we’ve ever made, anything.

From my perspective, if anyone believes that people- young, old, near, far- are not entitled to a comfortable life with a family in a nice, safe living-space, then I guess I respect their opinion but think them tragically incorrect. I believe that our species erred in ever thinking that worth had to be earned.

I find it painful when I read articles putting down young people for finally getting excited about joining the political discourse, for being hopeful, for thinking people and Peoples all over the world should and could live in peace and quiet. Critiquing policy is constructive. Digging at hope is petty. In an ironic sort of way, I find it naive.

The most practical knock at my generation seems to be that we’re lazy. We don’t feel like we need to work anymore.

But that’s not it. It’s just that the “Make something out of yourself” argument doesn’t work anymore. I, for one, will not work because that’s how I become something. I don’t need to become something. I am something. I work because valuable work befits somethings like me.

Treating me like nothing- for example, giving me answers like “Because I said so” or “You’ll understand when you’re older” just put me off. “I don’t know,” works much better. I’m much more likely to acknowledge my own imperfection if you admit yours.

Teachers, parents, bosses- they need to be better now. Much better. They have to be honest, non-corrupt, with integrity. They need to make information meaningful, to present it as valuable. To make learning exciting. To talk “to,” not “down to.”

But here’s the thing, and this is important- To the generation frustrated with its young people:

It’s your fault. You finally realized that it is your job to love your kids no matter what. Once they’re your kids- you love ‘em. My parents make sure to hang up every phone call with us with “I love you.” How many parents used to do that?

So I’d like to make one small request: Quit throwing us off your shoulders!

You put us up here to look out hopefully to the world and to ourselves. You taught us that we are entitled. That everyone is entitled. You taught us that our worth is not contingent upon anything. If for that your life becomes more complicated, motivating us becomes more difficult, satisfying us becomes near impossible, then get to work at learning to match the work of your own hands.

But as you struggle along with us, please know this: Self-worth is the greatest gift you could ever have given us. You have provided us with the confidence and faith, the hope, determination and even the awareness that we still have value when we screw up, that will take humanity to worlds and levels it has never known before.

Give us time- we will learn to shed the kinks and the laziness and the scraps of arrogance that come with the merits of “The Age of Entitlement.”

But please: Quit throwing us off your shoulders. You put us up here- don’t throw us back down.

It’s an important time of year right now, smack in between Mother’s and Father’s Day- high time for sons, daughters and the owners of Hallmark. To my parents, who always make me feel deserving and loved- Thank you. I respect and appreciate you so much. To generations of mothers and fathers that made us and brought us here- Thank you too… And quit criticizing your own good work!

Why should I shop till I drop?

A better question: Why would I shop till I drop?

An even better question: Why would a store want me to drop?

Perhaps I am dropping to the basement, where there is a special sale? A nutrition stand where I will be given an infusion to give me a second shopping wind?

Because otherwise, how does my dropping benefit the store? Why does not the store realize that if I drop, I will not be able to come back tomorrow?

And I wonder- who was the first to tell potential costumers to drop?

The honest truth is that sometimes after going shopping, I do feel like I want to drop. But I’ve never been like “Wow! I haven’t dropped today- but I’m almost there! Maybe I’ll go shopping tomorrow and see if I can actually drop this time!” Usually, it’s more like “I don’t care if I have to sew together bedsheets in order to make a shirt. I am never going shopping again.”

I do enjoy shopping sometimes- for example, put me in a backpacking gear store and I’m in heaven. Book stores are great, too. And music stores? Ask my wife how hard it is to convince me not to buy the whole store. But these are the few shopping opportunities in which I do not wish to drop.

Ikea in Oslo actually took shop till you drop to a new level, and in order to facilitate easy dropping, provides beds for customers who are tired in the middle of their shopping day.

City-life sometimes encourages us to “shop lest we drop,” i.e., shop to stay happy, or to “shop when we drop,” i.e., shop to cheer us when we’re sad (with shopping representing the unlikely (absurd?) savior of a lagging self-confidence.

One might implicate consumerism in global climate change and the dwindling potential for human survival- and therefore argue that we have shopped and as a result, have dropped, or are dropping. I recently saw a sustainability-minded site asking the very question, “Why shop till you drop?”

But I’m venturing a guess when I say that the mall is not implicating us in global climate change when they tell us to shop till we drop.

And yet, shopping-dropping is still often employed to describe the consumer experience (”shop till you drop” lands 799,000 hits on Google). Fascinatingly enough, there is a shopuntilyoudrop.net, which pays people to shop and review purchases. I wonder if there is an insurance policy if I sign up and actually drop.

So I leave this post without having figured out the mystery of shop till you drop.

But as a pretty word-obsessed human, I am going to deposit these shop-drop thoughts into my bank of nutty phrases, ponder the fact that we describe shopping with such a sense of urgency and continue to try and be more accurate with my words.

I will take advantage of this momentary inspiration to commit once again: Besides not telling people to drop, I will be careful with the following: I will not say that I am starving when I had a meal three or six hours ago, I will not say “I’m dead” when I accidentally misplace a document from work, and I will not call myself retarded when I find a typo in one of these blog posts.

Words will be a theme I return to often in Unpacked- without trying, words come up, in and out of my mind uncontrollably. I have been like that for a long time, but even more so since our trek. So I’ll continue to share. Conscious words represent a conscious mind, and whether advertising, writing a letter or an email or speaking with friends, speech is a direct reflection of our measures of individual, national and global integrity.

So if you’ll excuse me, I think I will run to an advertising agency to present my new phrase, Shop till you’re done.

It might not have the punch of shop till you drop, but it makes no suggestion that we expire, and rhyming is overrated, anyway.

I know there are tons of ridiculous ways in which we describe things. Can you think of any more? The same way political correctness refines speech-patterns into thought-patterns into action-patterns, refining inaccurate or insensitive phrasing makes us better, too. Please share!

I read news headlines every morning. This is how I get informed on what goes on in the world.

In the post, Always Trust Strangers, I made the assertion that “It is ironic that I base my impressions of the world on the news, when newsworthy events are by definition out of the ordinary.”

So as a follow-up, I wanted to explore with you the question: How relevant, in fact, is the news to “what is going on in the world.” (more…)

A city can be defined as a big mush of human development. I spend a good deal of time grumbling about things unfortunate in that mush. But the truth is that humans are super cool and super smart and super fascinating and big mushes of human development produce some great things.

Take Free Range Studios, for example.

Free Range makes movies, art, and other productions dealing with social consciousness and making the world better. They package content that is novel and thought-provoking in a friendly, digestible fashion. “Creativity with a conscience,” they call themselves.

I chanced upon Free Range by watching their most popular short movie of last year, Story of Stuff. They’ve made movies critiquing the meat industry, artistic campaigns for freeing Tibet, and scores of other good-for-the-world projects.

My favorite thing about Free Range is that despite doing good, they are not a non-profit. (more…)

To my dear Kitchen Knife, and to your colleagues in the stuff community that makes up my material possessions:

I apologize for not finding value in you, and for not utilizing all of your potential before going out to buy new and “improved” versions of you. I am sorry that I always feel like I need more stuff, when so much of the stuff that I already have is really good enough.

Kitchen Knife, while I will continue to use my grippy vegetable knife more than you, I very much appreciate your sharing your story, and will remember it when dealing with stuff in the future. I believe you to be a courageous ambassador for stuff worldwide, and bless you with a restful future in your drawer, where you can lie peacefully and proudly till the end of your days.
I thank you,

Yannai

(To read the Kitchen Knife’s Story, click here)

To all of my readers: In honor of my kitchen knife, and in the name of all the wasted stuff out there, I’d like you to do something. I think this can be very powerful:

Please think of something- some stuff that you own, but don’t really use, and issue it an apology, in the form of a comment on this page, similar to the above apology to my kitchen knife. You can apologize to a shirt, a pair of shoes, a pot, a shelf, a CD, a humidifier, an old baseball glove or whatever else.

Imagine a page full of apologies from humans to stuff, committing to a more efficient and responsible usage of stuff in the future. The kitchen knife and all his friends will be so proud!

I went jogging in the rain today.

It was a refreshing jog, much overdue after quite a long time without exercise.

A point about jogging:
When I was a teenager, I went on a few jogs with my dad. He has run marathons before, and gets a lot of satisfaction out of jogging. I never really got it. I grew up playing fast-paced sports- hockey, football, etc. Jogging was slow. It was, how do I say…boring.

That was a number of years ago. Now, my only issue with jogging is that it is too fast. (more…)

There is a Jewish tradition that God created the world with ten sentences.

Imagine that. Ten sentences, an entire world.

Those of you who are skilled in both math and linguistics, might have noticed that I am already in my fourth sentence. I do believe that I have created in you the sense of “where is this going?”- but compared with God’s first four sentences, in which He created light and dark, heaven and earth and probably more, I’m feeling pretty lame.

Now granted, God has the whole All-powerful thing going for Him. I gather that that’s a handy attribute when it comes to creating. So I don’t feel that bad that God is a better creator than I am.

But Jewish tradition also maintains that humans can, and are supposed to imitate God. And perhaps the most Godly of our human capabilities is speech. When we speak, our words create, too. (more…)

I would like to tell you of the tea that steeps peacefully before me. Like most things of apparent insignificance, this tea contains within it depth beyond measure.

The tea, a Tazo tea called “Om,” is a blend of green and black teas, imbued, according to Tazo, with the “spirit and taste of the high Himalayas.” I am not familiar with the spirit and taste of the high Himalayas, but I can recommend it with a touch of lemon and honey.

The tea’s paper encasing explains the name, Om, with the following: “The word Om is frequently seen on prayer wheels, stones and flags as you walk through the Himalayas. To merely say it releases a vibration of peace. Imagine what happens when you drink it.”

Let us leave Om for just a moment.

For six months, Chana and I walked. As our walk unfolded, so did the following understanding between us: If I don’t feel like speaking right now, I won’t. If you don’t feel like speaking right now, I won’t pressure you. The result was twofold:

1-Comfortable Silence: We could comfortably absorb our surroundings, relive a conversation in our heads, contemplate something, not think about anything and/or simply enjoy silence for the sake of silence.

2-Real Conversation: Because we didn’t feel compelled to speak, we had real conversations. We spoke lightly and we spoke intensely. But no matter what the conversation, we were fully committed. (more…)