Stand Up and Be Counted

Tuesday is election day in BC. I hear on the grapevine that May 30 will see Nova Scotians headed to the polls, as well. Democracy is alive and well from coast to coast.

Or is it?

I’ve consistently voted Orange in provincial elections, mostly because they supposedly support working people and social programs. I won’t say I’ll never vote Red because, who knows, one day a miracle might happen and they’ll start caring about constituents over capitalism. And voting Green seemed futile to my jaundiced eye. Too young, too new, too untried. Too naive. Better to stick with the old guard and be assured of ... what? The same old song and dance, that’s what.

There was a time (wasn’t there?) when politics was about people, not power. Nowadays, the big guns seem more concerned with slagging each other than explaining to me how they intend on making my life better. The money spent on attack ads is sickening. Pointing fingers and proclaiming “Red’s not working for you” while neglecting to say how Orange will has me seriously considering where to cast my ballot.

The Orange candidate in my riding is a seasoned pro. She’s been around forever, and was even the leader of the party for a while, until some internal stupidity had them punting her in favour of blanc mange in a suit. I like her. I believe in her willingness to work for the folks in her riding ... but she’s old guard. They’re all old guard, and the future belongs to the young ’uns.

But how can the young ’uns get anywhere if they have no experience? I’m going Green this year, not just because they talk about serving the public instead of their own interests (I can hear the cynics now – “Ru, you starry-eyed dolt, they’ll say anything for a chance to serve their own interests!”), but because they are young and idealistic, and they need to get some experience before their party can pose a real threat to Punch and Judy.

Green has no chance of winning this election. None. Zero, zip, zilch. I know that. I hope, however, to help create an imbalance that results in a minority government for whichever of the usual suspects does win. I also hope to give the next generation some work experience before their party gains enough support to form a government because, eventually, I think they will.

Is there such a thing as a wasted vote? There is. A wasted vote is a vote not cast at all. It’s also a vote against democracy. Freedom may be our birthright, but too many in the world have been robbed of that right by those who seek to rule over them. Voting has become a privilege, hard won on the backs and by the blood of those who’ve gone before us, and opting out is more than copping out. It’s disrespectful both to them, and to the people elsewhere in the world who have no say in who governs them. Sure, your candidate may lose, but your voice will still be heard. And if he/she loses, you can complain with impunity. If he/she wins, not so much—but one might argue that you asked for it. At least you’ll have a say in the outcome.

Vote. Please. Vote to keep (insert colour) out. Vote to get (insert colour) in. Don’t like either of them? Vote for the independent candidate and tip the balance in favour of the opposition. Vote for the future. Vote for the generation who must solve the problems we’ve created for them.

Most importantly, once more with feeling, vote because you can.

Still unconvinced? Then let me introduce to you the President of the United States ...

Head Hunting

There may be a worse place to live than America under Donald Trump. When I heard that extremist goons in Bangladesh had taken the heads—literally—of a few “secular bloggers”, I stepped back to evaluate just how dangerous my world could become if this stuff gets out of hand.

I mean, any more out of hand.

Truth be told, I could probably lose my head in some countries just for being a woman with an opinion. Make no mistake, gentlemen—all women have opinions. Just because those opinions are not expressed does not mean they’re the same as yours or that they don’t exist. My good fortune (so far) is to live in a country where my opinion is worth exactly what I’m paid for expressing it. If someone is threatened by what I think, they might want to ask themselves why.

Of course it means something to me. It’s my opinion, after all. If you happen to share it, great. If you don’t, great. You’re entitled. Everyone is entitled to their opinion. I guess the scary part is when enough of a shared opinion becomes an action or a movement. When fear of someone else’s opinion becomes the driving force behind a governing body—be it in politics, religion or big business— freedom of expression is the first thing to go.

And here I am, an opinionated woman with a secular blog.

Well, I’m in it now, so my hesitation to “like” a particular F***book page has been rendered duly redundant. Let’s hear it for “Republican Jesus”, a satirical site that is taken too seriously by some but not by me; it’s one of those pages where the first post gets a smile, the third gets a giggle and the sixth earns a full-on LOL. I don’t check in every day—I truly do suck at social media; how does anyone else keep up and still have a life?—but when I do, I’m guaranteed a laugh at the expense of the GOP. US politics have degenerated into something truly frightening, a satire of its former self and, I suspect, the furthest thing from what the Founding Fathers intended when they drafted the Constitution. On the other hand, it’s democracy in action, a concept that people have died and continue dying to defend. And whether, in the end, it’s Madam President or Trump the Chump in the White House, the expectation for the office will be impossible. People don’t want to solve their own problems. They want the government to solve their problems, and while I agree that everyone should be educated and earn a living wage, I disagree that it’s government’s job to resolve social issues by law. Rules can be put in place, but rules are only management tactics meant to staunch the bleeding. You can’t legislate tolerance or compassion or forgiveness or respect. Those things begin with the individual, at a grassroots level in schools and neighbourhoods and communities. Those in power are accountable for spinning the propaganda that serves their own ends; however, are we not accountable for choosing what we believe and how we behave?

I know, easy for me to say in my cushy First World environment where freedom of speech meets women’s (sort of) equality. As stated above, it’s only my opinion. If someone wants my head for it, oh well.

I just hope they take it on the first swing.

Leggo My Ego

Last week I drafted a post about my ongoing battle with ego.

What began as a dissertation ended up as a diatribe. Surprising? At first, yes. On reflection, I should have seen it coming. Any time my ego is involved, it gets messy. It gets loud. It gets argumentative and angry and defiantly positional. By the end of the piece, ego was firmly at the wheel, driving at breakneck speed for the cliff’s edge and utterly heedless of the damage awaiting it once it hurtled into open space.

Ego works like that. It believes in hurting itself first to save it from being hurt anon. Conversely, it believes in hurting others before they can hurt it. What kind of nonsensical beast is this thing? And why do we give it so much power?

I wish I had the answer. All I have is a theory and a lab experiment with myself as the white rat.

The general consensus among philosophers is that the human condition can be divided into three separate components: body, mind, and spirit. “Body” is fairly obvious, being subject to hard-copy things like biology, environment, pathology, chemicals, and the physical manifestations of mental and emotional stress. “Mind” is the disk operating system which houses both the instinct for survival and the intellect. From what I understand, ego resides in “mind”. “Spirit” is the infinite essence that cannot be seen, but is probably the most important part of our makeup because it’s the one thing we take with us when the compostable container reaches its expiry date. “Spirit” is the life force, the truly eternal part of us that has been and remains the mystery of ages. Many people have devoted lifetimes to its study, trying to pin it down and give it substance and better yet, to figure out where it goes when we die.

Where it goes is less important to me than what it learns while it’s here.

 

One of the bookcases in our house is loaded with the works of Deepak Chopra, Wayne Dyer, Eckhart Tolle and Bruce Weiss (among others), but I let Ter do the heavy lifting. She reads the books, then gives me the highlights. We discuss, and if what I hear makes sense to me, I apply the principle du jour and see what happens. One of the goodies of late has been the subject of ego.

 

I’ve always known that ego is ridiculously fragile. What I never understood was why. How can something so brash and confident and smartypants witty be shattered or enraged by an offhand comment?

I think now that it’s fear.

Ego is always afraid – of loss, of disdain, of criticism, of failure, of disappointment, of poverty, of conflict, of death. Ego is road rage and cyber-bullying. Ego is impatience and intolerance. Ego is excess and extreme, and the misguided notion that the more you have, the more important (therefore the more viable) you are. Ego looks back in anger and forward with anxiety; ego is addiction and frustration, feelings of inadequacy and of superiority. Ego is absolutely the most paradoxical, self-destructive element in the mortal makeup. At its best, it monitors and mobilizes to keep us safe and society running smoothly. At its worst, it will literally kill itself and others merely to make a point.

How do I know all this? I’ve lately been observing my own behaviour. Fortunately, my ego restricts itself pretty much to internal putdowns and shots aimed at my self-esteem. These are designed to keep me static and thus spare my ego the risk of ridicule or a face plant – or success, for that matter. Better to be safe than sorry, right? At least it has never committed wilful acts of violence just to prove a point. I have been known, however, to raise my voice when my point (therefore my ego) is being challenged. I do, occasionally, lash out in reflexive anger at someone who does something I judge to be stupid, dangerous, or just plain inconsiderate. I also, on occasion, take it out on friends and family members, but I usually realize the error of my ways and apologize … though that may have more to do with being Canadian than being enlightened. Oh, and about being enlightened? Ego will proudly announce to the world that “I Am Enlightened” and expect some sort of awestruck adulation from those it deems to be less so. I don’t consider myself to be more enlightened than anyone else. I’m still learning. We are all still learning. I reckon when we’ve learned it all, we’ll be done with this gig and I’m not there yet.

Nowhere near, in fact.

My intention is for Comfortable Rebellion to be a welcoming place of creativity, positive energy, and Ru-mination. It may be argued that ego prompted me to start the blog and that’s fine. It’s not the truth, but I won’t belabour it. We are each free to think and believe as we will, with no undue pressure to accept the opposing view of another. I am more aware of this now than ever – so much so that when considering which photo to match with this post, I remembered the chalked message I had seen and snapped on a morning flânerie some weeks ago:

“FIND FREEDOM”

Freedom from ego, and from the fear that drives it, is a darned good place to start.

With love,