Slim Chants

So what is it with chanting? Why do some people feel invigorated by repeating the same phrase over and over again using their outside voices? I’ve thought deeply about this because whenever I hear a chant my skin seems to turn inside out and I want to curl up in a ball far away in a happy, silent, place. What would bring on this reaction? Is there a medication for it? Should I write my congressman to lobby for anti-chanting legislation? No, I can’t make it political because how do you demonstrate against chanting without, well, chanting? (So far I’ve asked five questions and made only one statement. Does that sound like someone who is well? AAHH, there I go again with the questions.)

So, here is my theory about chanting. It boils down to resonance. Here’s a quick physics lesson, no charge. Resonance is the science of waves moving up and down at an optimal rate where the maximum output can be produced with a minimal input. It has to do with momentum. Am I digging myself deeper? Hmm, let’s try this. I’m sure everyone has sat in a bathtub and sloshed the water back and forth at a regular rhythm. If you get it sloshing just right then pretty soon you can get water splashing all over the bathroom with just a small movement back and forth. Please tell me I’m not the only person who has ever done this. Anyway, the bathtub super sloshing is an example of resonance. Another example is a pogo stick. Personally I’ve never bounced on a pogo stick, that’s right never, I guess I was too busy sloshing in the tub, but I’ve seen it done at least a couple of times. When you start out on a pogo stick it takes a great deal of effort to get it bouncing but once you can use your downward momentum to help with your next bounce then you can keep it bouncing with a relatively little effort. If you still don’t follow me then . . . well . . . read the paragraph again.

Okay so, now that we all understand resonance in detail let me explain what it has to do with . . . uhm . . . what were we talking about again? Oh yea, chanting. When a chant is initiated it is usually in an effort to maximize a vocal affect by coordinating the combined efforts of a group of people. If a group of protesters want to make a point, they start a chant. When a crowd wants to pass on enthusiasm to team members at a sporting event, they start a chant. When my kids want anything, they start a chant. I’m sure the connection between resonance and chanting is becoming crystal clear, however I’m really hoping to drive the point home now.

As the chant is initiated (neck hairs bristling just thinking about it) it usually starts out small and the initiators have to apply a significant effort to get it going. Once others join in, then the energy of the chant can be increased substantially with only a relatively small effort from each individual. People often do this for the thrill of being a part of something energetic and powerful. Well it just so happens that’s the same reason I sloshed water in the bathtub! The problem with a chant is that people can get very excited in the moment and act irrationally, at the whim of whoever is leading the chanting. At least when I sloshed I only got the bathroom wet. When somebody starts a chant the next thing you know there is law being passed that will prohibit personal watercraft from the moon because they might upset the “man”. (I’ve always assumed that when the flower power gang spoke about “the man” that they were referring to the man in the moon. It seems logical to me and I’m sure there were many of that generation who were personally acquainted with the man in the moon and visited with him upon occasion.)

Based on my chanting – resonance theory it would appear that physics and psychology have more in common than simply using the letter ‘y’ as a vowel instead of a consonant, so maybe the same solutions will apply to both. The way resonance is overcome in physics is to absorb some of the energy at a key moment. For example, the pogo stick is stopped by absorbing the bounce with your knees and the super slosh is stopped by showering instead of bathing. Maybe if I chant out of sequence and at a much louder volume than everybody else I can bring it to a stop. Suddenly I don’t feel so powerless against the most obnoxious social activity known to man. So I must learn to fight fire with fire but for those of you who enjoy getting your juices flowing with a good chant, might I suggest a pogo stick.

Correct Me If I'm Wrong, But I'm Not

We are all acquainted with the know-it-all type. In fact you may be a know-it-all yourself, in which case you already know what I’m going to say and therefore you have no need to continue reading.

If you're still reading then you obviously aren't a know-it-all. You're welcome to use this foolproof psycho-analysis any time you like.

So what is it about a know-it-all that is so annoying? Is it really fair to ostracize a person simply because they have an answer for everything? It seems like this is someone we would be glad to have around, yet almost invariably we gravitate away from this type of behavior. I suppose it's not the apparent omniscience that grates so, but rather the way that the bounteous knowledge is distributed.

There's the casual know-it-all who is infuriatingly correct all of the time even though your quite sure they've never even finished an entire book and they really couldn't care less if they're right or not. These are more often revered than shunned, however their apparent gift is always a point of jealousy and therefore must be ridiculed to shame on most occasions. That's just the way things are in this dog eat dog world.

Then there's the egomaniacal know-it-all. They believe they are right, even when they are obviously wrong, and they aggressively defend their position no matter how ludicrous it seems. With these it is rarely beneficial to argue unless you’re just in the mood for a good ruckus. It may sound cowardly but the best way to take care of this type of know-it-all is to point them on a collision course with a good old fashion bully. It will serve them both rights.

Of course there is the penitent know-it-all. This is the person who, while correcting you, will apologize incessantly. It’s no “I beg your pardon” either, no this is a full blown sobfest. You’d think they had just infected you with the plague after they turned your beloved pet into roadkill. It’s hard to say if the remorse is genuine. It may simply be a ploy to either cover up an inherent faux pas or an attempt to demonstrate that even amidst intense self depreciation they are still smarter than you. Either way it is quite offensive and difficult for even the most patient soul to tolerate. The best thing to do is to move on without acknowledging the incident. This way if they truly feel badly then you have shown them no ill will but if they have ulterior motives then you’ve denied them any satisfaction. It’s a win-win.

In defense of the know-it-all they often have no choice. You see they’re hypersensitive to some distinct knowledge base and when you inadvertently muddle your references it initiates a response that is almost overpowering. If they let you continue then who knows how far reaching the consequences might be. It’s like the butterfly who flaps his wings in Toledo and causes a 30 car pileup in San Francisco. (That was another test and if you know what I’m talking about then you failed. Feel free to use that one too!) They must either correct you or forget that you ever existed. Those are the only two options that will allow them to sleep at night.

Now you may have views that differ with mine, but deep down you know I’m right. And, while I’m truly sorry if I’ve corrected any misconceptions you may have harbored, in the end it doesn’t really matter to me anyway.

In the Eye of the Beholder

They say that "when one door closes another opens." They also say "don't count your chickens before they've hatched." So which is it? Are we allowed the presumption that life will bring endless opportunity, or must we assume that our only real prospects are those that are in hand? It's the classic dilemma of optimism versus realism. I, myself, tend to be neither optimistic nor realistic. I am simply a 'stic. Like the optimist, I enjoy a certain sense that things will somehow turn out alright in the end. Although like the realist, I also accept that in order for things to turn out alright, I may need to alter my definition of what "turning out alright" means. Sound perplexing? Not in the least! Like the glowbug, who's never glum because the sun shines out his bum, I have a regenerative sense of happiness, come what may. My life is a self fulfilling prophecy!

So how does one achieve such a liberating sense of self? Well, I suppose it is rather a gift of sorts. Being a ‘stic, like any other gift, has to be practiced and refined. I take great care each day to match my aspirations with the expected outcome of the day. Now I’ll admit this sounds more than a little bit flaky, but the same could be said about a gently falling snow, yet look how wonderful and enjoyable that can be. I digress. The point is, if you can’t control the arrow, then you’d better be able to move the target.

There is nothing wrong with modifying one's objectives. There are those of us, in fact, who would as of yet not be walking, talking or even toilet trained had we not adjusted our expectations at one point or another. The difference is that, as children, we can change our objectives without any sense of guilt. I've never heard of a toddler sitting on the potty and reading habit #2 of '7 Habits of Highly Effective People'. They couldn't care less about the true goal of making doo doo in the potty, rather their entire focus is set upon getting that promised treat, whatever it may be. If it takes an involuntary bodily action to get it, so be it.

To a child, a treat is everything, but it really doesn't matter what it is. What does a child do when told that they will get a treat? They don't stop to carefully analyze the pros and cons of each specific treat or check the 'treats recieved' database for reviews of past treats. No, they simply ask, "what is it?" Actually it sounds more like "oooooh what is it, what is it, what is it, tell me, tell me, tell me, what is it?" When the treat is finally revealed it instantly becomes the very essence of joy and satisfaction. That is as long as it isn't a fake treat like vegetables or medicine. This tactic rarely works more than once and is often only moderately successful even for the most ardent 'stic. Needless to say, it still works on me.

Now I know I’m not the only ‘stic in the world. In fact you yourself may be wondering if you possess certain ‘stic characteristics. For example, have you ever stood up after falling in a puddle and exclaimed, “I meant to do that”? Well you’re a ‘stic in the mud. Ever lowered the bar for yourself in a timed run? You’re a speed ‘stic. Perhaps you’ve been offended by a so called "friend" and declared that you’re better off without them. You’re a chap ‘stic. I like to dunk cookies in milk, and I especially like when the cookie breaks and falls to the bottom of the glass. You guessed it, I’m a dip ‘stic. I could go on listing but this seems like a good place to stop, so I’ll be a short ‘stic. However, I do have to add, if you like off-brand soda, well your just Fanta ‘stic.

All kidding aside, I do sometimes wish that I could set a firm goal and either succeed or fail without altering my expectations. I admire those who can do so. They seem to me as the very picture of stability, winding on an uncertain course, while all the while staying fixed on the prize. What better example of such determination could there be than Wiley Coyote? At risk of life and limb he is ever vigilant in pursuing his prey. Though the roadrunner may defy him or the sheepdog may pulverize him yet he pushes on. Not even when the roadrunner seemingly scoffs at the very laws of nature and physics does the coyote give up on his quest, never giving up and leaving no idea untested.

I can only dream of having that kind of perseverance, so dream is what I shall do because, to have dream is what I really wanted all along.

To Go Where the Brave Dare Not Go

I think I’m going crazy. Not in the traditional, involuntary, sense where one loses their grip on reality. No, I’m going crazy by choice. The other day, while driving, I noticed an individual who by all indications was homeless and appeared to be talking to himself rather energetically. Assuming this wasn’t yet another blue tooth misconception, then the man appeared to be quite delusional. As usual, my first reaction was of sympathy and pity for someone who has been given a much harder lot in life than my own. However, this time my feelings evolved into something much different. I was almost envious of the poor man. You see he has either never fully comprehended the world around him or he has devolved his psyche to the point of an utter escape from reality. This is an individual who apparently has no idea of his own dependence on society and therefore enjoys sovereignty usually reserved only for royalty.

I don’t mean to lessen the trials of those who are mentally challenged nor demean them for their disabilities. Still I had to ponder, what if a person could consciously abandon their sense of reality and willfully proclaim independence from the world. To be able to go to a place mentally where no outside influence can penetrate without my permission. This brings to mind the story of ‘The Man of La Mancha’. Like Don Quixote, I wish to choose my own adversaries and fight the windmill’s representation, whatever it may be. You know, to dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe, etc. It’s not that I want to be able to predetermine my own future, I’ve been intimately connected with my own mind long enough to know that any imaginary future I might dream up would come as a complete surprise, especially to me. It would be like the ultimate video game experience, my own virtual reality, where anything can and will happen without true consequences of any sort. If I don't like the outcome then I just hit 'reset'.

In fact I sometimes wonder if this is actually the case. Did I, at some point in the past, lose my grip on reality and now I live in a world of my own making, deep in the recesses of my mind? I don’t spend much time pondering this possibility because it brings up uncomfortable questions like why are there still mosquitoes and wars and where did Dennis Rodman come from? Besides, if indeed I am lost in my own subconscious, then I don’t want to upset it because things have gone pretty well up to this point.

Alas, I suppose contrived craziness is not the ultimate answer to all of life’s questions, or any of life’s questions for that matter. Truly the key seems to be in keeping the right perspective. As is most often the case, dreams will give way to reality, and reality will give way to perception. So to a certain extent I can choose my foes and make them as fearsome or as frail as I wish while still maintaining my sanity in its current state. Imagine that!