Protest

I often catch myself wondering why I do things. I mean, not just why, but Really? Why? What are my truuuuue motivations for doing what I do? Questions like these can be hard to answer. You can hit blocks that fulfill the ego but bounce off the shiny veneer on the actual hideous truth. You can lie to yourself while thinking you're truthing! (thanks Lee Hazlewood) If I may be so bold - we all do it, yeah? Well I've decided to ask myself something I have asked myself before, many times, and see how honest I can be with myself about it.

Why do I go to Protests?

The first reasons that pop up for me are: They're fun; Signs are often funny; I like people; I like belonging to a group of people who agree on something; they make you feel like you're doing something.

Now, if I may, I'll dissect each one of these reasons. These rabbit holes may go deep...

1. They're fun: Why are they fun? Because you get to yell; you get to dress up sometimes; you get to see lots of pretty people with cool brains; you get to prepare for them and build up excitement leading up to the day; you get to feel all self-righteous and endorphiny...

2. Signs are often funny: They are; you get to feel all smart 'n' stuff for getting it; you get to feel even smarter and more awesomer if you actually write a good sign and people get it and laugh and give you approving looks.

3. I like people: I do; there's often attractive people there with similar interests; I get to be, for some people, an attractive person there with similar interests to them; it makes you realise that some people don't suck as much as those other ones...

4. I like belonging to a group of people who agree on something: I think it's a fundamental human trait - the want to belong - so for me a protest holds this desire up and dances with it; you get to feel like you're one of the smart ones in an outside-protest-ocean of not-so-smarties (mix'n up my metaphors!); you get to channel common anger into a big-ol communal anger purge (see 1.); it certainly makes your feelings feel more justified 'cos y'know - everyone's doin' it; you can be supportive and feel supported; it can remind you that not all humans suck or are completely self-interested (Honesty check - Question = do I actually want others to have a good time or is it just because I feel good when others do so therefore it's really for me? *Insert many and varied rabbit-holesque tangential and often contradictory thought-structures and arguments here* Answer = I don't actually know); You get to feel like these other cool people will like you and think you're cool too. *Runs off and has moral and as a result existential crisis*...

5. They make you feel like you're doing something: You're not; yes you are; no you're not; yes.... Wait... What are you doing? You're attending a group event and feeling some communal love and catharsis and feeling just a bit of hope that maybe the higher-ups will listen and something will change and the thing that was shit won't be so shit anymore... The jury is probably out on whether or not protest is actually effective - it's certainly affective, but effective... well it depends on what you want it to accomplish. Many will now be thinking of the anti-mining (on schedule four land) march in Auckland in 2010 that attracted what Stuff says was 50,000 people to it. It. Was. Big. Many believe it was effective as the plans to survey the land were (at least publicly) dropped following that protest. Many will argue that they were "dropped" due to other pressures and arbitrary reasons. Many will argue that it was a combination. We may never know. What we do know though is that thousands of people came together and united on an issue that will probably affect their grandchildren, and that humans are in a self-perpetuating cycle of re-spawning for the sake of it so have to at least look like we care about the thrice-removed Me Replacements that are still to come. So if nothing else - it serves that good old purpose of giving life a reason to be lived.

I think I have just managed to sound both cynical and hopeful at once. Go me. I like protests.

Triumph and Disaster

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same -Rudyard Kipling

First of all, what does this quote mean? To decide this I will choose what each of the two nouns means. What is triumph? What is disaster? 

I see a triumph, in this context, as a personal victory - something that has happened that feels so gosh-darn good. From this comes a feeling that makes you wonder that you could ever feel bad ever again. It's glorious.

I see a disaster then, as the opposite. Something has happened that makes everything around it feel terrible. The worst possible outcome has occurred - it can bring with it feelings of hopelessness, frustration, grief, or it can be any of those in itself. It's awful and you may wonder if you'll ever feel good again.

Now, why are they impostors? What is in-authentic about them? Doesn't it seem negative to suggest that events that bring glory and absolute joy are not real? Ask my friend who had just finished his last year of art school, and who had hung his final work and sold some of it, making back some of his costs and gaining recognition as an artist. He was feeling pretty darned great when I directed this quote at him. I had not quite anticipated that he would not take it so well, and basically tell me where I could shove my unsolicited and annoying advice. Clearly my timing on that one was poor, and from this I've learnt a lesson. However, what I actually meant to convey was that I could see he was on a high that he would come down from at some stage in the few days post the exhibition. I could see that banal everyday experience would not compare to this landmark in his life, and I didn't want him to look unfavourably on the rest of his experiences. I wanted him to appreciate them too. Unfortunately my timing was whack, and my point was lost.

Those times of triumph are great, but everything can be great. Regular life doesn't have to pale in comparison, or we're always just looking forward to the next big thing and not really being in the present.

Now, why is disaster something else in disguise? It may be because every bad thing that could ever happen has an opportunity inside it. Granted, it feels as though this should probably only apply to everyday disasters like not getting that job, or burning the cookies for that important meeting. It seems ridiculous to suggest that someone dying is only disaster in disguise, as it is a long-term affliction - but it, like everything, does contain opportunity to grow. I have recently been through a disaster, which has prompted this post. My flat has had to make a very difficult decision and have somebody forcibly evicted. It is a complex situation and nobody has taken any part of it lightly. It has felt disastrous to many degrees. There are two wonderful things however that have come from it. One is that the evicted flatmate will now receive the care he needs, and be in a space that is actually suitable for him to be able to heal and grow. The other is not the obvious benefit - that he is no longer our problem to have to deal with, despite not being qualified - but that we have bonded as a flat. We have seen each other in revealing new lights and reached agreements and been relatively patient and warm towards each other. I will take growth from this disaster.

We can establish here that triumph is great, but need not be better than everyday life, and that disaster is terrible but need not be worse than everyday life. We can also establish that it may be best to pull out this wisdom when someone is experiencing disaster, rather than triumph! It will be better received.

So, why then should we treat the two the same? Don't we enjoy the highs and lows of life? Don't we get addicted to complaining, or to feeling the adrenaline rush of a disappointment reaffirming our self-righteousness? Don't we just feel so good when we score a goal, or kiss a crush, or sell a painting? The two extremes are just that - extremes. This makes them the same. They are also both usually very temporary, which means they are not necessarily real.

I believe this piece of wisdom is about seeing the simple joys in the everyday as triumph enough, and about appreciating these simple joys even when the thrill of any glory has worn off. I believe it is about not taking perceived disasters so seriously and finding the opportunity in them to build on those simple joys.

It is about leaving the extremes and accepting the beauty of each moment. All the time. Now.