Almost nothing in my life seemed like a given; it was all put there by someone before me, who had worked for it, sacrificed, endured things I couldn’t imagine, and all in all it was on purpose. There was a choice, and it was not left up to total chance or an institution to give it. The notion that things are earned was the foundation upon which we found each other as trustworthy record makers. Trust formed by choices and choices to sort out misunderstandings. These choices could be made due to something I feel is rarely given: cooperation. And lately, the ability to ask a question and have it responded to, plainly or not, but responded to instead of ignored. Do we owe that basic courtesy to each other; I would say so, but the rise of vacuous silence seems to be simultaneously growing, while at the same time complained about. So I have to wonder if people really are wanting more Catch-22’s that the strangeness of life already offers?
These words are not intended to romanticise about labor or signal labor as more virtuous than life with ease, comfort, and grace. Virtue has become appropriated ;) often misused in ways to slice and attempt to erase, force or coerce, eye-roll or shoulder shrug at someone. How on earth has doing good been coopted for such malice? And how to talk about this without tying my brain (or yours) in a pretzel, as often the virtue-signaling, grievance committees demand you do (to see everything they same way they do).
This kind of think as I think, but not for yourself, encouragement feels like a regression, and I’ve often wondered why we are permitting ourselves or each other to regress, when there was a time people encouraged each other to grow.
Such contemporary posturing feels empty of caring. Caring has always been, as a friend reminded me “the price of admission,” the antidote to the malignancy of apathy or social games, and best when it’s a two-way street. I find games tiresome, and while I appreciate playfulness I hope you can ride out the coming sentimental photographs, the next few weeks.
I have been asked to share more about the stories behind the photographs or artworks I’ve made. I have to level with you, that sharing the private stories of how the art on my website came to be, feels like turning my life into entertainment, or as people have told me, they’d love to watch a movie of my life.
Yet I had not signed up on purpose for the potentially sado-masochistic dynamics social media can afford. The way I write can confuse some, even though that is not my aim. Of course no one is forcing anyone to join social media, yet that is the very nature of social dynamics. As mammals, we understand our individual survival is interrelated to the survival of others. Unless someone is truly a die-hard solo only, antisocial type, which may have it’s own red flag(s) to carry, there is a consuming part in the nature of knowledge seeking that is inherent in life. So I do not aim to vilify or demonize, yet clarify the various fine-lines we are weaving with our media-rich culture. In this way, I get it, our eyes are the first stage of consuming a meal. And eating up something with the eyes, has become “a given”, something people are willing to share and so it is often not really SEEN, nor appreciated.
If people are willing to pay the price of a Netflix or Prime rental to be entertained, then performing any kind of role also has a price. The Cookie Jar isn’t my private journal, nor a tip jar, but it is the closest thing there might be to one. (I usually burn my journals after copying out the useful bits). A preface, to a preface, I do always welcome your feedback, which also has a value. While we both chew on what could be baking up for the future of The Cookie Jar, I can promise to share some photos that have only positive associations (for me), with the naïveté I started with a camera years ago, and that I aim to retain the ability to focus through that lens. Because if I am asking anything of someone else, then I must also ask it of myself.
These are a few statements I’ve arrived at wanting to ask you to think about:
Attacking education seems like an easy way to undermine the invisible labor of people who are interested in gaining knowledge. And while some are interested in gaining dominance, the whole lot cannot be tossed out.
Attacking those with different forms of education seems like an easy way to assert dominance to people who already did not stand a chance to gain academic knowledge. This seems to be the subconscious stream pumping up the rise of booty-culture.
Now I understand I might sound like a granny here, and that’s a risk I’m willing to make. I suppose I feel a bit tired of all the complaining going on and wonder, ok, so when are we going to organize and build railways? Get serious about the ethics in our resource usage and mining, and start to make the small correct actions instead of carrying on with our grievance committees, which leave little room for actual grieving. We might have realized our ability to live in health was in our hands all along.
And yes, that was a run on sentence. At the end of the day, is it how or what we say and call things as important as what they actually are or do? As I can see it, assuming good intent has not always served me well, but assuming malinent builds glass walls around people, making their ability to connect and relate severed or singed. Not all birds can rise from ashes, some of them never see the light again. Which is not to say everything is doomed to hell or failure. In fact, most of the people I’ve met who are convinced that is where everything is headed seem to be more interested in proving their beliefs than they are in cooperating, with what is good for life.
And finally, as promised a peek down my mori lane:
What are you getting here?