I play with a broken string. Even if I replace it, I know another one will break soon enough. I have to choose, do I give up and never play again or do I play with the instrument I am given, broken string and all?
My choice is to play. That is what I am asked to do. And in this life that means I need to be open, not to a one time resurrection, but to a daily one.
I drew this and wrote the commentary 7 years ago today. Still true.
Open Air
Why do we think skin equals sin? Why is the exposing of skin seen as dirty? Obviously in breastfeeding a mother shows her breast. If she is in public she might cover her breast with a blanket. But it’s also possible that she might choose not to cover, maybe because the child gets fussy under the blanket, maybe because she likes to watch her child nurse, maybe she likes the feel of the open air. Whatever her reason and whatever her choice there will be someone who feels it’s wrong, dirty or rude for her to nurse in public, no matter what.
It’s Your Fault
This gets to the heart of a persistent idea. It’s the idea that the woman is to blame for the actions of the man. It usually boils down to one thing, she showed too much skin. Whose fault is it if a man reacts rudely, even violently to a woman showing ‘too much skin’? In this persistent idea it is the woman’s fault. Why? Because you can’t expect a man to be able to control himself in the face of that much skin showing.
Self-Control
I, as a man, am offended by this the same way a woman would (and should) be offended by a comment saying a woman can’t control her emotions so she can’t be trusted in important roles in public life. The same is true with the ‘skin’ argument for men. It is not the case that men can’t handle it. It is the case that when men SAY they can’t handle it they are using it as an excuse for their own bad behavior. They are rationalizing their inability to have some self-control by blaming it on others. It’s not the ‘other’ who is to blame. It is the man.
This will sound funny coming from an artist but for a long time I used to think artists who said, “I have to do art to express what I can’t any other way.” were sort of copping out. I didn’t really get it. Then the Orange Man came along. I’ve been drawing the Orange Man for 3 years now and it’s a series I wish I wasn’t compelled to do, but I am. I can’t express my disgust any other way. Words just aren’t enough for me.
I drew this 10 years ago today. Still true. Commentary is new.
One of the most oft repeated public events in our world today is the airing of a person’s ‘sins’ and the response from that exposed ‘sinner’. Yes, I am using the word ‘sinner’ on purpose, because it fits how people look at the infraction. We aren’t seeing it as slight breaking of some rule, like jay walking, we are seeing a perceived moral failure.
You name the person; Trump, Weinstein, Huffman, and more and there is harsh judgment not only for the infraction but for the public apology for the infraction. Why is that?
Because it’s talk vs action. They acted immorally but their immediate response is to talk morally. We inherently don’t like that. That is why we crave punishment. We want the immoral act to be balanced by another act, not by words. Nice words are not enough.
What we want is to see the person who dug the hole with his or her actions to dig out of the hole with actions as well. That is why redemption takes time and why most people who find themselves in a deep hole they created should say whatever mea culpa they need to say, knowing it is insufficient, and then shut up and start acting to get out of the hole.
The action might be incarceration, it might be charity, it might be exile, who knows. None of that matters though if the most critical action, the action that has to be there, isn’t implemented, and that is self-awareness. The sinner has to recognize they have sinned, they have to decide to take action to change their thinking and their behavior and then they have to take that action and never stop.
And what is our obligation in all this? I believe we err when our judgment is so harsh that we don’t allow that they actually may have dug themselves out of the hole with actions, not words, and that they deserve to be given a second (or third or fourth) chance. It doesn’t mean they get to be back in their same position of power over others, it simply means we allow that they have done the work and deserve a chance to do or be something better than they were.
Spiralita was a happy girl, in spite of her questions. As a matter of fact, it was her questions that gave herself that happy identity. She was known throughout the land as the ‘Question Girl’. Some made fun of her because of all the questions she asked and some admired her for always being so curious about the world.
But she paid no attention to those people since she didn’t ask her questions because or for them. She asked them because she wanted to know answers. Not THE answer, just answers. Answers were the answer to everything.
The Answer is the Answer
And because she was always asking questions she was always getting answers. She didn’t always believe the answers because she knew answers could be wrong. But she believed even in getting wrong answers. Wrong answers she understood were the only thing that led to right answers because they were the reason for asking more questions and questions were essential to answers. You can’t have one without the other.
The Hill of Life
What made her happy about all this was she knew that getting answers led to progress up the Hill of Life. Getting up any hill wasn’t easy but getting up the Hill of Life was especially hard because it was very steep and very rocky. It was uneven and sometimes dangerous. It could be beautiful and wonderful but not always. Each sharp, giant boulder and each dark, swampy part was overcome by finding the answer to a question. She knew if she practiced asking questions and finding answers when the path wasn’t too hard she would be better at it when she reached these scary parts.
The Solo Climb
And it worked. She was successful in getting to the top of the Hill of Life and just as importantly, she was happy doing it. She felt bad for some of her friends who stumbled and fell back down the hill along the way, even though she tried to help them. She was happy though for her other friends who also figured out how to get to the top. But she knew, in the end, that each person had to climb the hill by themselves.
‘The woman on the Staten Island Ferry sleeping but aware I am drawing her and hoping she looks pretty.’
I did this drawing in 2003 while on my way to visit a girlfriend’s family on Staten Island, New York City. We were dating in Tulsa at the time and both happened to be in NYC at the same time while visiting our respective families. I hopped the ferry to SI to meet up with her and meet her family for the first time. It as a fun visit and very insightful to see where she was from.
Our relationship didn’t last for too much longer after that for the usual reasons, just basic incompatibility, nothing crazy or major. A few months after this trip I started dating Linda, who would eventually become my wife.
I drew the original drawing in 2003. The next time I rode the ferry was in 2018 to the start of the New York City Marathon. That sparked my memory and a few months later I searched out this and a few other drawings from that trip. In 2019 I added the color to this one.
The Orange Man Sat on his golden throne and thought for a second. Then he went out into the world and said, “IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII”. The End
I wrote this 5 years ago after my first speaking engagement at SXSW. Still true.
SXSW
I am back from 6 days at SXSW Interactive in Austin, TX. I led a workshop then attended presentations and panels on a wide range of topics. Being there is the ultimate in complex reality. Between the overwhelming crowds and choices; the sheer logistics of eating, drinking, transporting, sleeping, and the intense focus of meeting, talking, learning, teaching, communicating, and remembering it all, it was anything but simple.
The Simplicity of Thinking Now
The only way I could keep it simple was to be focused on what was in front of me. Whether it was a person I was meeting for the first time, a slide on a screen, a lecturer, or a transportation moment, paying attention to that alone allowed it to stay as simple as it could be at the moment.
The Complexity of Thinking Not Now
Yes, I was multitasking. For example, I wanted to tweet what was being said but I also wanted to take notes. My solution? My tweets became my notes.
When I got in trouble was when I thought ahead instead of stayed with what I was doing. For example, leaving my hotel in the morning. I never forgot my badge, thank God, but I did forget my water bottles one day. Doesn’t seem like a big deal, but when water is 3.25 a bottle? It’s a big deal.
I forgot my schedule booklet one day and had to go over to registration (a long way in a big convention center) to get a new one, one not marked up with all my notes. I had left mine in the hotel bathroom when I went back in to make sure I was empty before starting my day.
Twice while at the conference I left a water or coffee behind that cost way too much to leave behind. Yes, I went back and got them each time and it added frazzlement to my day.
Less Thoughts, More Thinking
All this made me think about Simplicity. I realized I didn’t need to think less, I needed to have less thoughts. When I limited the amount of thoughts or was able to unify those thoughts into a clear thread of thinking, then I was successful in getting the most out of my time and efforts. That’s simple enough, right?
I drew the drawing and wrote the commentary 6 years ago today. Still true.
Vicious vs Kind
We in the western developed world are not usually reminded so viciously of death as they are where disease and war ravage nations with impunity.
We are also lucky in that birthdays are the kindest way of setting in front of us our own march to mortality, that we will die.
Depression vs Cake
Sound depressing? Yes and no. Yes, we will die and that thought can be a bummer. But then again no, because it also tells us that while we are alive we should eat the dang cake already! The cake may be a real cake, but it can also be a metaphorical cake.
Eat from life, take a hold of what you want, or stretch out your hand and reach for it until you can take hold. It won’t always be there, YOU won’t always be there. Don’t wait.
