Elder Myth

Most of us understand our lives as a narrative story. Elders tend to form that into a mythology. Like any good literature, the best exaggerate the highs and lows and often have a structure with a moral. Grandparents especially enjoy inflicting this on their young grandchildren. Or at anyone else when there is a holiday gathering. It’s a way of making a mark on the universe, claiming an importance almost as meaningful as in tales of heroes of old .

Nor is it wrong to do so. There is more to existence than daily meals and bedtime. Formulating one’s place in eternal mystery is important to all of us. And once in a while it is nice to share – even proclaim – that adventure .

Unlike many others, I do not think such tales actually help the young in their own lives. Life and circumstance were always unique, and the days change at a dizzying speed. At best this is just another form of entertainment with the added benefit of being (mostly) true .

Oh, perhaps there is some moral value. But really it helps everyone share and join internal narratives to feel far less lonely in the ineffable cosmos.

Sanibel Sad

“You can’t go home again” -, well you can’t really go anywhere as it once was. Older folks are often wrapped in nostalgia. As one of them, I remember many places I was privileged to visit before great change. Often merely modernity, sometimes catastrophe. Sanibel Island was one of them .

When my wife and I visited years ago it was – like many places we went – caught between old and new. The new was glitchy, shiny, and inaccessably privatized. The old had a patina of history along with the comfort of the commonplace.

Hurricane Ian exchanged all that, of course. New things are being rebuilt, but all is shiny, private, glitz. I find myself never wanting to revisit anywhere that once charmed me .

This culture is, I think, testing the proposition that private wealth is always better than public for anything but the most utilitarian needs. Mostly gaudy and ugly, but above all else tightly secreted away. With rare exceptions, America has no grand public spaces, and even fewer that are not merely an attempt at preserved wilderness .

It’s a forward-looking time. Ignoring real history in favor of myth, and ignoring the present in the race to the next great thing .

Sometimes an old man believes all the great things are gone with the wind .

Yeoman Artisans

Jefferson expected a country of “yeoman farmers” who would have self-sufficiency by day and discuss politics by night. Never happened. He certainly was not much interested for himself, at least if slaves were not available to do the work .

For a while we did have artisan farmers, who would grow some of their own food and sell specialized items for the rest. Soon enough, artisans stopped growing stuff altogether. Then the idea was suburban nuclear families, working for a large company to gain currency. Fuzzy effect of the ongoing industrial revolution on society, as workers were turned into machines. No politics by night, just entertainment .

Now I wonder. Is AI and automation the end of that paradigm as well? More and more we seem to become a nation of “yeoman artisans” bartering our own specialties for livelihood. Not quite worked out yet, but I wonder what work and life may become in the next decade .

Not Jeffersonian. And probably far from Utopian. But the real point is – nobody knows. And hardly anyone is even sure what they would like .

I enjoyed being an artisan computer professional. Artisan pride fit me well. But the other thing I wonder is if there will remain varied niches for varied folks to fit into .

Taxing Machines

Any society seems to require government, complex societies more so than simple ones. Except under true communism (where the government/people own everything) taxes must be raised to pay for it .

Taxes over the last tens of thousands of years have taken many forms, and involved almost anything imaginable. Fees, income, wealth, property, sales, ethnicity and on and on. But as the industrial revolution morphs into the AI/automation revolution, perhaps machines and processes should themselves provide revenue .

This is heresy to classic economists. More production always enriches society, they say, and should be encouraged. Lately, that may not be true. A marginal gain in output of widgets entirely done by machine instead of traditional labor may actually harm the society more than it helps .

How to directly tax machines? probably with heavy fees and taxes on the input resources they use – electricity, air, water. Large land taxes on the property they occupy. Major levies on associated nuisances like noise pollution or environmental degradation. And, of course, the equivalent of tariffs to equalize all this between nations and regions .

Simple? No. But presumably an AI in charge of government could make it all work .

(As long as that AI was not self-aware !)

No Team in I

One current cultural complex alternates between the values of being on a team, or just following a leader. Usually one expects that moderation works best, but in this case a genius or gifted leader can be the right choice, though having a strong team is important as well. It’s illustrated well in the fortunes of sports franchises.

No question a perfect ruler is a wonderful thing – in politics, business, or sports. Almost superhuman, always making the right decisions. Lifting all those around with a series of almost miraculous performances and decisions.

On the other hand, single rule has issues too, well beyond whether the leader is always right. Illness, corruption, burn out and a general malaise on the part of anyone not in the charmed circle. A wonderful leader is often a short-term solution, and one which simply leaves a bigger mess to clean up when it ends .

There is also the unfortunate tendency of such strong personalities to assume they are gods, placed well above all mortals, and deserving of worship. Like the ancient Greek pantheon, they may become irrationally bitter or destructive over the smallest perceived slight .

Unlike those gods, they do usually require some kind of team to accomplish their whims. Alas, poor Zeus.

Alas, the rest of us.

Making Criminals

We are each guilty. As the Bible says “let him that is without sin cast the first stone”. Going through a red light as it changes from yellow. A few miles over the 15 mph speed limit. Fudging an application slightly from need or vanity .

Life isn’t fair. Being nice when accosted by the police sometimes gets you off with a warning (unless they’re too far behind on quota.) Sometimes they don’t like your looks. A fine or court appearance – it’s a free country except for time, hassle, and in some cases expenses for a lawyer. We won’t even mention bribes.

But the point is, if somebody doesn’t like you – the police, the actual officer, the people controlling the police – you are going to be harassed as a criminal for something or other. Even if “proven innocent” later, the loss of reputation, not to mention loss of time and energy – can be significant. Often that’s the point of the whole thing .

Juries were supposed to be the backstop. And maybe they were in the slow old rural days. Now they can be as intimidated as anyone else, and the massive loss and time of a trial makes an awful lot of folks accept a plea deal just to get back to normal .

When the judicial system rots from above or within, well, we’ve seen the results in Stalinist Russia and a bunch of other places. Maybe coming soon to a courtroom near you .

Goals

Goals are one of our most fragile, useful, illusions. Although they may help focus our activities, they are subject to constant change and apt to be overruled any instant by some contradictory pursuit. Not to mention modified or severely disrupted by changes in environmental reality .

But, as noted, they are useful anyway. I like to work at making my art better – although exactly what that means is tenuous. Draw more accurately? Accent a personal style? Create something beautiful? Yes, well, okay …

There is usually a question of trade-offs – enjoy that donut or continue the diet? More seriously, how willing should we be to direct all our energies towards a relatively exclusive vision. Trying to be the “best” at something, if done to exclusion, may “work” but leave us damaged or unable to do much else .

I’ve learned to accept reevaluation of goals as a normal part of consciousness. No doubt aided by being older, when it is only prudent to find time scale shrinking and capabilities more limited. I no longer try to run fast, nor to walk 15 or so miles. I do adjust to walking “briskly” on hills, and I’m satisfied if I do a few miles or so .

Thus also with my artwork. And, honestly, an awful lot of my daily moments. Sad, I suppose, from the goal orientation of youth. Which has faded, as all illusions do .

Binocular

Old Dutch Master still lifes make you think you can lift flowers or bugs off the painted surface. Modern photographs have the same effect. Yet in a very real way, they do not match the reality we inhabit .

Two eyes let us see – especially nearby – in parallax to be able to judge depth. For distant objects, of course, we have other references like size and haze and perspective, but they can be quite deceptive. In the real world it has been important to us primates to be able to focus in this weird binocular manner to better use our hands for handling fruit and tools .

That is a long prologue to today’s rant about cults – religious, secular, or political. Cults have beliefs that are strictly monocular. They have little depth and allow by definition for no other viewpoint. The strictest cult outlooks don’t even let one move one’s head to get a better or different view – that’s the definition of “heresy” .

Current culture has unfortunately devolved into a set of cults. Perhaps a saving grace is that complex humans can believe in more than one cult – often contradictory – at the same time .

Binocular vision and its philosophic implications is a gift from the universe we should always acknowledge gratefully .

AI and Pride

Perhaps we have all turned into John Henry, pounding railroad spikes trying to beat a machine. Artists are confronted with the same situation as other intellectual occupations – what used to take skill, pride, thought, and time can now be done by any teenager in a dull moment. The internet is flooded with AI images, movies, stories. Work has similarly vanished. Some of us remain luddites, stubbornly sticking to brush and pencil. Why? A waste of time…

But is it ?

Climbing a mountain or hiking in a forest is not the same as viewing a YouTube video of the adventure (not even – as technology advances – an IMAX immersion). Things we do for ourselves have both an outer and an inner component .

Accomplishment of something difficult brings pride. Even if it is only pounding spikes. Or painting a canvas .

The key is that doing something you like to do, either for the activity itself or for recognition, is a kind of play. The same task forced on you (especially repetitively) is a chore or boring job. We should avoid confusing the two .

Mankind evolved with hand coordination. In spite of our big brains, we remain a physically oriented species. I think AI art robs both the creator and the audience of that heritage. Except for the brief thrill of novelty, pride and satisfaction are completely missing .

Crude

I was raised in a fairly middling environment. Certainly not poverty nor even “salt of the Earth”, but not high end aristocratic. As I matured, I lost most ambitions of pretentiousness in my quotidian pleasures. I call it my crude peasant outlook .

For example, I enjoy a good steak. I do not go into purple prose ecstasy over exactly how wonderful it is – subtle flavors, tenderness, whatever. I find sauces and garnishes excessive. It’s just a good steak, another fine meal .

Most of the world I read about now seems to have passed me by. Pretentiousness reigns supreme. The “right things” are so much better. Handbags, salads, shoes, schools, cars, swimming pools … The internet sorts it all out for you to aid your expensive tastes .

I don’t pretend I like awful stuff. A dinner of peas and gruel is not enjoyable. Ratty clothes are terrible. But the level of relatively common, useful, and affordable stuff is quite high. And I try to appreciate it .

All in all, I find my crude peasant world a land of luxury and enchantment. I rarely envy all those others who mostly seem to scurry about hoping others will notice and envy them. That pretentiousness seems a terrible waste of our human gift of existence .