I want MORE!

Posted in beliefs, culture, society, work by

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I’ve been feeling antsy today. I can’t still still at my desk at work. I keep shifting, crossing and uncrossing my legs, sitting cross-legged in the chair, getting up to walk around, rocking back and forth… I’m basically acting like a four year old. I’m about two seconds away from biting my chair or gnawing on my computer, just to mix things up a bit.

Over lunch, I stumbled across James A. Martin’s blog “A Southerner in San Francisco.”  His latest post talks about American’s inability to be content with the status quo:

Unlike, say, the Italians, who savor il dolce far niente, Americans typically don’t know how to be appreciate “the sweetness of doing nothing.” We’re rarely content with where we are, what we have, who we are, and what we do. We’re always looking for something else, something new, something more.

It’s like he plucked my own thoughts out of my mind!!

I realized that’s my problem today. I’m not doing enough. Sure, I’m working, sitting here doing what I get paid to do on a daily basis, but that isn’t enough.  On a day-to-day basis, admist the work, I am usually squeezing in freelance articles I write over my lunch break, prioritizing my goals, planning scenes for my novels, jotting out ideas, and researching various projects I have. Today, however, all I’ve been doing is working. I haven’t been doing anything that helps the forward momentum towards my personal goals.

It feels like a waste.

I get that I’m paid to work. But I always multitask working for someone else and doing my own thing. I can’t help it. Unless I keep a notepad next to me where I can jot down ideas, I literally become incapacitated by holding them all in my mind while I am trying to do things. It scrambles my brain or something. Hardware malfunction by thought overload. Writing them down and organizing them is the only way I stay focused.

When I was in law school, the end goal was to become an attorney. That was my life for three years. Since graduating, I haven’t had tangible goals with end dates. My goals are ones like, “Be a New York Times Best Selling Author” or “get really in shape with a pre-shaved-head-meltdown Britney Spears abs” or “become a really awesome person to attract ideal man.” This has made me feel like a complete slacker. Nevermind I have a law degree and a job and a freelance writing career and loving friends and family. That isn’t enough. I need to do and have MORE.

Don’t get me wrong. I love relaxing and doing nothing. I certainly can spend a lazy Sunday laying out at the beach, or staring at the stars on a clear night, or napping in the afternoon after spending a couple hours reading. But I get to enjoy those sweet moments of doing nothing because I feel that I accomplish so much when I am trying to work.

So it’s clear. I need to set timelines to accomplish everything.

And besides, how am I going to get new, better goals unless I accomplish all of these ones first?

I don’t want to be your cog

Posted in Americana, beliefs, culture, work by

cogI work for a really great company. In fact, I work for an exceptional company. Today we had an all-company meeting to discuss how the first quarter went (I work for a large enterprise software company with $1B in revenue a year). They went over the financials, a lot of technical lingo I didn’t really understand. They told  some rather interesting and funny technical support stories of our guys holding our customer’s hands until the wee hours of the morning on pivotal sales dates, and how some of our tech staff goes above and beyond.

During the meeting, the CEO of our company came up to give a speech. He talked about how the company has 4,000 large customers across all industries, and the world would come to a halt if we took a day off. And while that sounds like company propaganda, it’s actually true.

He talked about how while Facebook is a great company, the world would keep spinning if Facebook didn’t work tomorrow.

Our technology, however, keeps systems running. Banks, airlines, governments, retail, shipping, telecommunications, just to name a few companies from different industries, all completely run their systems from our technology. A glitch in the system, and the world shutters to a halt. Planes wouldn’t fly, shipping wouldn’t get to it’s destination, and cell phone reception would cease having signal.

When I first started working at the company, it was this surreal experience of why people work so hard everyday. It didn’t make sense to me why people bend over backwards in their little job, happy being a little cog in the giant system of the company.

But once I understood that keeping this company alive is not only helping all the people who are tied to the company alive, but keeping a large part of the infrastructure of the world afloat, going to work and pushin’ my paper around suddenly takes on a new meaning.

You realize you are a small cog in a very large system, and it fractals out in degree of importance. But it’s important nonetheless, from department, to division, to company, to industry segment., to the world.  Your job, whatever it may be, from pushin’ paper, to refilling the coffee, is keeping industry alive. You might be a part of the company machine, and you might be a small cog, but you are a cog nonetheless. And that matters.

But here is the catch. I don’t want to be YOUR cog. I want to have my own vision about the state of the world, and how I fit in. And I want my vision to matter. I completely appreciate being a part of something big right now that fits into your vision.

But mark my word, I will create a vision of my own.

Public Shaming to Modify Behavior

Posted in academia, Americana, beliefs, childhood, culture, memories by

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I was a pretty good kid growing up. Sure, I had the occasional tantrum, or did something like bite my sister. But I was nothing compared to some of those monster children out there. Those kids who have to wear leashes because their parents don’t know how else to control them. Those kids that destroy things, like cars, or take markers to the wallpaper. Those kids who light things on fire, forcing their mothers to start popping Xanex. I’ve always thought that children are a reflection of their parents. Pretty cool parents = pretty awesome children. Needless to say, I have pretty cool parents.

I do remember an unintended act of public shaming, though. My mother would never do anything to try to embarrass her kid in public. However, regardless of the intent, the whole thing definitely stuck with me to this day.

In case you don’t know, shame is defined as “a painful emotion, caused by a strong sense of guilt, embarrassment, unworthiness, or disgrace.”

I don’t really remember all of the details of the story. I only really remember feeling absolutely and completely mortified. I was probably about six years old, and my mother and I were out shopping somewhere like Macy’s. I thought it would be hilarious to run off and hide in the circular clothing racks. I loved the sense of freedom and power, knowing I was spying on unsuspecting shoppers from my hidden vantage point.

And then I heard,

“Paging Elizabeth Coleman. Elizabeth Coleman, your mother is looking for you. Please report immediately to the check out.”

I wanted to die. I slowly slinked out of my hiding spot, afraid to make eye contact with anyone, my face burning red.  I was sure that every single person knew I was Elizabeth Coleman, that bad child whose mother just had to go to extremes to find her.  It didn’t even occur to me that my mom was probably scared that she had lost me, or thought I had been kidnapped or something. I was completely preoccupied with the embarrassment I felt at being publicly humiliated over the loudspeaker.

I never strayed from her side out shopping again.

Apparently kids hiding from their mothers in clothing racks is a common thing. There is even a Facebook page devoted to this. There are actually several Facebook pages devoted to this. (The latter has 63,000 “likes.”) Numerous Yahoo! parenting groups have threads devoted to this topic, and how much of a headache their toddlers were giving them for running off into the racks.

Another time, my mother and I were shopping at Beverly’s Fabrics. I might have been even younger, maybe five or so. Outside of the store was a huge display of fake flowers, the colors like a rainbow box of Crayola crayons shining in the sun. I wanted one. Bad. As we were shopping, I tried to figure out a way to get one. And then, I saw my chance! On the way out, I saw a bright pink fake rose lying on the ground next to the display. When mom wasn’t looking, I picked it up. Even though I knew I was doing something naughty, I tried to rationalize that no one cared because it was on the ground anyways.

I skipped back to the car, clutching my flower, happy as could be. When we got back to the car, my mom noticed the flower. She demanded where I had gotten it. I lied, and told her I found it in the gutter, and that someone had thrown it away.

Moms have a sixth sense for bullshit. She marched me back in to the store and made me give the flower back and apologize to one of the cashiers, in front of all the other cashiers and customers, for taking it.

Needless to say, I never stole anything again.

In high school, I played field hockey. Even though I’m not very good at team sports – I’m more of a solo dance type of gal – all of my friends were trying out, so I thought I should too. I was pretty bad at field hockey. And I hated the whole “team mentality” thing. I couldn’t wrap my head around why you would be punished for someone else’s mistake. One time, I kept messing up on a play. The coach stopped the whole scrimmage and started yelling at me.

“Coleman! What on earth are you doing? Do you see the ball? You must not see the ball! It’s about 3 inches in diameter, and orange. Why aren’t you focusing on the ball?! I want you to take this ball, and run around the track, holding it above your head and looking at it until I tell you to stop. Now get your ass off my field.”

I ran around the track, holding the field hockey ball above my head for about an hour, the entire team watching out of the corner of their eyes, before he told me to stop.

I made sure to not miss the ball while Coach was watching, and my anxiety about playing in a game rose about 200%.

My examples are clearly not as extreme as some of the other examples of public shaming that society has used through the years, and weren’t even necessarily intended as public shaming. However, public shaming is something that has been around for ages, used to enforce cultural norms. Everyone is familiar with the whole “go stand in the corner” thing, often with dunce caps, that teachers would use on students when they were bad, knowing that the rest of the class was watching them.  Historically, a form of punishment was being locked into the stocks in the public square.  And we are all familiar with Nathanial Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, where Hester Prynne is made to wear the scarlet “A” on her chest.

I did a quick search of public shaming on Google. I was actually surprised at the results.

Apparently public shaming is a punishment still handed down by our legal system (despite supposedly having been outlawed by the restrictions on “cruel and unusual punishment”). There are numerous accounts of judges ordering people to wear signs outlining their wrongdoings, making perps post their names to public bulletin boards, or wearing T-shirts that say they are criminals.

Clearly, shaming has a place in our society. However, with the internet, and social media, the boundaries of what is considered “local” have completely disappeared. We live in an age where there is no local public shaming; there is only global public shaming. And everything that is on the internet is there for eternity. It has taken vigilante justice to a whole new level. Now, any seeming wrongdoing can be paraded on the internet, with an infinite amount of places that people can post public backlash.

I recently discovered www.dogshaming.com. On this site, owners post pics of their dogs with signs telling the world what the dogs did, like chewed the remote, or went through the garbage. Obviously, this doesn’t have same impact of real shaming, but is humorous nonetheless.

Maybe we, as a society, are attempting to move on from the whole shaming thing by transforming it into something humorous.

Or maybe we are merely trying to cope with the fact that with the internet, there are infinite and boundless ways of shaming people that you have probably never thought of.  Shaming your dog, something you master, is a way of exerting control over a chaotic world. Is that what we’ve come to, shaming your dog to put distance between you and your feelings on shame?

Hey, if it works, it works.

Roku Thinks You’re Lazy and Unmotivated. Haha, Just Kidding!

Posted in beliefs, consumerism, culture, media, society by

MONSTERtv
Roku, makers of digital streaming devices that enable you to watch your favorite TV shows anytime you want, have recently come out with an ad campaign called “Keep Streaming America.” Billboards have messages such as “Give the gift of quality couch time,” or “Books: They make great movies,” or my personal favorite, which went up after the election, “Cheer up Mitt! More time to watch TV.” In one of the radio ads, the message is basically “you aren’t really doing anything to solve the world’s problems, so keep watching TV and streaming those shows from your couch, America!”

Listen, below:

The text:

“America. A majestic land made even more magnificent by the tenacity of our compatriots. And because we entrust our great country to these great Americans, you can just, sort of, take it easy and watch Roku. Roku is a tiny box that streams your favorite TV shows on Hulu Plus, HBO Go, and hundreds of other channels straight to your TV. You want to watch episodes of Glee for hours on end? Great! Someone else will successfully transplant a dolphin heart in to a human being. Stream a ridiculous amount of Modern Family. Let some other American create a battery powered, battery charger. Watch New Girl until your eyes swell. Another American is testing a protoype engine that runs on compost. Let’s face it, Americans, you weren’t the leading candidate to patch the ozone anyways. So get a Roku. Keep streaming, America. Roku. A great gift for TV lovers. Available at Fry’s, Radio Shack, and Target.”

Of course it’s all supposed to be a spoof, some “silly radio spots celebrating free time and fun TV.”

I admit, the first time I heard that radio spot, I might of laughed in that way you laugh when you are cringing inside, in a “I can’t believe they said that, so I am laughing because I don’t know what is the appropriate response here” kind of way. In that, “it’s funny ’cause it’s true, and I’m a horrible person for laughing,” sort of way. They basically insulted their customer base, calling them lazy and unmotivated to do anything more than watch the latest sitcoms. But of course, it’s “comedy,” so they didn’t really mean it. I’d like to be a fly on the wall at those marketing department meetings. “Hey guys, hey guys. I have a great idea. Let’s just insult the customers!” “Insult the customers? Why would you think that would work?” “People will eat it up! We’ll use a funny announcer’s voice and they will think they just need to lighten up! And then they will be resigned to their fate, depressed at their shitty mediocre job, drink another beer, and watch another streaming sitcom!” “By God, Steve is right! We just have to keep them so bored and depressed with their own lives that they have to live vicariously through other peoples’ on TV. It’s genius!”

In Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams talked about “someone else’s problem.” He described a magical field-generator, whereby people could cover things with this shield so that problems go by unnoticed, and become someone else’s problems. Although it was used in a work of fiction, Adams has pinpointed one of the great problems with societal behavior: we believe things are someone else’s problem and fail to take responsibility or put forth effort to fix things. According to Wikipedia (it seems everything has a Wikipedia page), people who suffer from SEP disassociate themselves from an issue that may need critical recognition. They may recognize it as a societal problem, but don’t recognize it as an individual one. Well guess what, folks? We are all part of society, and a problem for society is a problem for the individual.

Diffusion of responsibility and bystander apathy are part of this whole “someone else’s problem” thing. The idea that someone else has responsibility releases individuals from the need to act. I remember learning about Kitty Genovese in middle school, and wondering why no one did anything. I couldn’t comprehend that people would listen to a woman being murdered and think that someone else was going to call the police. Of course it’s easy for me to say what I would have done now since I wasn’t there. I’m sure we all think we would have helped.

How many times a day do you hear about issues such as global warming, political unrest, or the debt crisis and figure that someone else is fixing them? Whether the Roku radio spot is in jest or not, the underlying fact remains the same: most of us don’t step up to the plate. True, you probably would have to cut back on watching Modern Family or Jersey Shore reruns if you were trying to find a cure for a disease, or invent some new technological wonder machine to solve the mysteries of the universe, or teach sustainable eco-farming in poverty-stricken nations. Even if you aren’t about to join the Peace Corps or go build houses for people after natural disasters, your poor little media-soaked brain probably could use some fresh air, and at the very least, a walk around the block to remind you of the community you live in.

I think part of the reason people don’t take action is that the problems seem so monumental, that they are paralyzed by fear and uncertainty. Self-doubt starts creeping in, that little voice that says you aren’t enough: good enough, creative enough, smart enough. But as Steve Jobs said,

“Everything around you that you call “LIFE” was made up by people that were no smarter than you.”

So what’s stopping you? If you are afraid of missing out on your favorite show, don’t worry. Roku has you covered.

I Tried to Punk Quaker Oats

Posted in beliefs, childhood, consumerism, culture, memories by

When I was about eight years old, I prank called Quaker Oats. My best friend and I were in that kid-phase where talking on the phone and prank calling is really fun. We were at her grandma’s house, where the phone was connected to the wall. That’s a weird way to date myself, by the way. I’ll have to tell my kids that when I was a kid, phones had cords. And then they will roll their eyes and go “Mom, you’re OLD!” Of course this will all be communicated instantaneously through linked neural thought channels by microchip implants or whatever people will have invented by then. People won’t “verbalize” anymore, like in Gary Shteyngart’s Super Sad True Love Story, where everyone communicates by streaming data.

Anyways, we decided to prank call the Quaker Oats hotline for some reason. We were eight years old – who knows what our thought process was on this. But we thought it would be hilarious to ask who was the model for the Quaker Oats guy. We thought it was brilliant. Surely, the hotline person would stammer and be confused, much to our delight. I remember trying not to giggle as I clutched the phone to my cheek, watching my friend covering her mouth trying not to laugh as well.

The hotline operator answered. I quickly asked, “Um, who’s the model for the Quaker guy?”

Without missing a beat, she responded, “Actually, there is no specific model. We chose the image because of the Quaker tradition of honesty and wholesomeness.”

“Oh,” I responded.

Neither of us spoke for a few seconds. “Is there anything else?” She asked.

“Uh, no. That was it,” I said, downcast. This had not gone according to plan.

“Alright, you have a nice day. You take care, sweetie.” She hung up.

I was so upset. I had been hoping to fluster her! That was the whole point of prank calling! But apparently this was a question the Quaker Oats people had gotten a lot and were prepared for. My eight-year old brain couldn’t comprehend what had gone wrong.

On the Quaker Oats website, the second question in the FAQ is “Who is the man on the Quaker Oats box? Is that William Penn?” Their answer: ‘”Quaker man” is not an actual person. His image is that of a man dressed in the Quaker garb, chosen because the Quaker faith projected the values of honesty, integrity, purity and strength.’

Well I’ll be darned. Apparently that’s been their go-to answer since the beginning.

Last year, however, the Quaker man did get a make-over. A new marketing campaign to make the 134-year old company “fresh and innovative” decided to revamp the logo. “Larry” as he is apparently called (I can guarantee they didn’t call him Larry 134 years ago) has a new, youthful appearance, losing 5 lb, ditching the double chin, getting a haircut, and gaining broader shoulders so that consumers will associate the brand with “energy and healthy choices.” They had even changed his background from white to red, to signify “movement.”

Quaker_logo_redesign

I thought about this as I ate a bowl of oatmeal this morning at work, simultaneously impressed with the subtle marketing maneuvers, and feeling slightly tricked like how I feel every time I learn about any sort of hidden marketing messages. I used to not really like oatmeal that much. Do I like it more now because of these hidden connotations and messages? I mean, the old Larry does look a bit tubby and slow. The new Larry is definitely fitter and more attractive, as far as white-haired Quakers go.

I suppose there are worse marketing ploys to fall victim to. Oatmeal IS relatively healthy (though clearly steel-cut oats are going to be a lot healthier because of the amount of processing required for rolled oats). I used to eat a lot of the highly processed, little low-fat packets from Quaker Oats that have all that sugary, chemical goodness that you mix in. That definitely isn’t healthy.

I guess in the end, Quaker Oats punked me instead.

I am guilty of Magical Thinking

Posted in beliefs, culture, work by

internetscape

I recently finished Augusten Burrough’s collection of short stories, Magical Thinking: True Stories. Fantastic, by the way. If you aren’t familiar with his writing, it’s good. Real good. (He wrote Running with Scissors.) His writing is honest, and funny, and poignant, and brutal, all rolled into one introspective, humorous mishmash of real life events.

In case you aren’t familiar with the term, “magical thinking” is thinking that one’s thoughts have disproportionate effects on reality. Like prayer, or Superbowl rituals. I immediately identified with this, but one who also suffers from magical thinking. I mean, we learn in The Secret that thoughts become things, right? I just know that if I want something bad enough, I can bend space and time to my will. Despite this enormous power I wield, I have found my trouble lies in the fact I lack direction, and don’t really know what I want. Or I want it all, thus confusing myself and my powers.

Reading Burroughs, I was reminded how cathartic and therapeutic writing can be. He lays it all out there. Every embarrassing detail, every mortifying relationship moment. But not in an overexposed, or scandalous way. In a “this is who I am, take me or leave me” kind of way. I’ve suffered with this notion in the past, worried about over-sharing in my writing. They always warn you about “legal professionalism” and “maintaining a clean public persona for your career.” BARF. I’m sorry, but that is so boring. No wonder people all hate attorneys: they aren’t real people.

I just did all my MCLE credits, and there was this one seminar on professionalism where the lady basically talked about what was acceptable things to blog about and share on Twitter, and what wasn’t . Okay, I get not showcasing things like those pics of you doing body shots off the bartender in Cancun (I have never been to Cancun, for the record!), but she suggested very safe topics, like your dog Baxter, or your love of windsurfing.  That’s great and all, but my everyday thought process gets a little more complicated than that. I’m a little more complicated than that.

Hell, on a day to day basis, I’m thinking of everything ranging from my incredibly vivid dreams (sometimes lucid) that I have at night, how to tell if we are living in the Matrix, my future career as a New York Times Bestselling author (remember what I said about bending space and time? It’s going to happen, people), my insecurities, my next steps in life, dating and relationships and sex and men, parallel realities, and I’m probably reviewing all moments in my life to try to access patterns and predict future outcomes. What can I say? I’m introspective, and I’ve experienced a lot of weird synchronicities in my life to have it all be just coincidence.

What I’m trying to get at is that I don’t feel I easily fit into some definable category or someone else’s image of some of the labels I use (such as attorney).  I’ve never liked wearing suits. I definitely work much better in jeans and cute heels.  I swear at the office, and I can’t sit still for more than 15 minutes at a desk. So sue me. If I am going to be judged in my career for being honest and being myself, I probably don’t want to work with those people anyways. Keep in mind, though, I’m extremely pleasant to those I work with, listen to all sorts of personal drama, offer supportive feedback, and am a willing team-player, sometimes working at the office til 1 am, just so you can go home to your wife and kids. And I will bring you Starbucks out of the kindness of my heart, because I know we all need a bit more caffeine in our lives to get through the morning.

I find it nice to do a little check-in every now and then, take stock of my situation. I have recently felt like I hit rock bottom. I had the proverbial rug pulled out from under me. These are the things that people don’t tell their friends, let alone acquaintances. When people ask me how I am, I put on a smile and gloss over the unpleasantaries. Most of my friends have been very supportive (my sister and mother have been amazing!). Others can’t wait to get off of the phone with me. But, like I said before, it’s cathartic to write about it all, so here it goes:  I’ve been unemployed, and staying at my sister’s. I’m broke, with bills racking up and weighing down my thoughts each and every day. I even pawned jewelry at a pawn shop to get cash to pay my student loans.  I got dumped, twice, by my boyfriend of 7 months. The first time, he said that he was pushing me away because he was scared of intimacy and scared me might love me. But we got back together after a week because he said he wanted to try and I was willing to work with that because I could tell he meant it and I cared for him. The second time he told me that although he likes me, he doesn’t love me and doesn’t “feel” it. That’s always a hard one to hear. Heart-shattering, in fact. I’ve never been a fan of unrequited love.  Maybe in Jane Austen novels, but never in real life, and never to yourself.

This past week, I’ve been fixated on the relationship, mulling over every little detail in my head (remember what I said about reviewing moments in life to find patterns?).  I’ve come to several conclusions: 1) I really wouldn’t have done anything differently. I’m the type of person to take risks in life, to live whole-heartedly, to say “I love you” first. I threw myself entirely into the relationship. Yea, I got burned. But that’s so much better than never trying. 2) It’s easy to confuse love for fear. Those butterflies you think you feel in the pit of your stomach that you equate with love can feel an awful lot like the fear of being left, the fear of rejection, or the fear of not being good enough. 3) I’m going to be okay. It’s hard to find the motivation to continue on, when all you want to do is lay in bed with a bottle of vino and a pint of Haagen Daas, but I’ve been making myself go to the gym and get out of the house everyday. Yes, I did have a breakdown in my car in a parking lot in front of Kohl’s today, and some nice gentleman in the car next to me looked awfully concerned and maybe like he was going to call someone. But I’m still carrying on, and figuring out my next steps. I’m going to look back on this period in my life and realize how much it tested my character, and how much stronger I am for it.

I was recently reminded that JK Rowling once said, “Rock bottom is the solid foundation upon which I rebuilt my life.” Amen, sista. On Monday,  I start a new, exciting temp job at a large software company, and I am one week into a 3 month exercise plan to completely transform my body.  I have decided not to date for awhile, instead focusing on myself, my career, and my writing. I’m hopefully going to get an interview for my dream job. (Fingers crossed… I’m praying to you, J.R.R. Tolkien!)  I am going to put that magical thinking to good use, and manifest my dream life. 

As my sister says, my pendulum is on the upswing. 

Spaceship rides for every man, woman, and child!

Posted in beliefs, culture, philosophy, Uncategorized by

Recently, I took a dance class led by one of the pioneer of Postmodern dance, 92-year old Anna Halprin. While we experimented with movement and dancing at her Mountain Home Studio, one thing she kept repeating was, “You are not an object in space. You are part of the space.”

I didn’t think that much of it until I was reading about Cubism on Art.sy.

Fragmented planes, the explosion of linear perspective—this vision of the world put forth by Pablo Picasso and George Braque, beginning around 1909, continues to inspire how contemporary artists render space and objects. Fragmented geometry in the Cubist works of Braque and Picasso turned physical space into a system of scaffolding, blurring the relationship of a figure and the space surrounding it and creating “faceted” planes. This breaking apart of solid volumes, an effect noted art historian Robert Rosenblum has described as a “house of cards,” is often seen as an expression of the uncertainty of modernity—also reflected in the non-linear narratives of modernist writers (in particular James Joyce and Virginia Woolf), the angular forms of modern architecture, or the fractured quality of modern music (as in the atonal compositions of Igor Stravinsky).

It is interesting that Anna Halprin is concerned with the body (objects) and how they moves through space – much like the early Modernist artists who deconstructed reality. Postmodern dancing arose as a reaction to the constraints of modern dance, and the ideology of the early founders of postmodern dance are more closely aligned with the ideology of modernism.

It would seem this shift away from thinking of the body as separate from the space that surrounds us, and moving towards the idea that the body is part of the space marks the transitory nature of life. I believe this also marks the idea that we exist on many planes of reality, since artists are playing with the idea of what this existence is through deconstruction, stripping away all that isn’t necessary (As Picasso said, “Art is the elimination of the unnecessary.”) I think the sense of Self is and has been changing, in that we are not just our bodies, but we are merely in our bodies, which are in this space.

Edgar Mitchell, the astronaut, wrote about his transcendental experience on the moon, which led him to found the Institute of Noetic Sciences. Up on the moon, looking down at the peaceful blue planet, he experienced this sense of universal connectedness. He realized that his body, the molecules that made it up, were made of the same material as the spacecraft, and the same material as everything on the planet below him. Boundaries, real and imaginary, vanished, so that everything was just the same as everything else.

With the election coming up, we should all remember what Edgar Mitchell said about politics after his experience on the moon:

“You develop an instant global consciousness, a people orientation, an intense dissatisfaction with the state of the world, and a compulsion to do something about it. From out there on the moon, international politics look so petty. You want to grab a politician by the scruff of the neck and drag him a quarter of a million miles out and say, ‘Look at that, you son of a bitch.” 

Spacecraft ride for Romney, anyone?