Probably the biggest mistake made by the scientifically industrializing world has been the idea and requirement that individuals must specialize into one expertise of work in order to have value. Experts get paid more than dilettantes. Besides, we are told, it takes a lifetime of concentration to learn to do anything well.

Perhaps at one time that made sense. At one time, so did raising monoliths, leveling forests, and slaughtering anyone not in your tribe. But civilization also evolves to meet new conditions, and expertise has become a residual anomaly which can quickly turn cancerous.

The professional disease of expertise is the proverbial “rabbit hole,” obsessively concentrating on one facet of thought as the rest of existence vanishes. It’s not new _ theologians have always been prone to the issue. But in a world filled with experts, its ramifications are becoming calamitous.

We are composed of discrete and expert chemical interactions. But we transcend all that. We are able to focus to accomplish tasks. But our lives are _ or should be _ much more than tasks fulfilled. Rabbit holes may bring prestige, but rob us of true human happiness.

The old adage to “smell the roses” remains as true as ever. And it does not mean to start a perfume factory.

Celebrating the “Glorious Fourth” sounds increasingly ironic. Everyone these days feels increasingly victimized, in spite of living a better life than anyone ever has in the past. Folks marinate in simmering resentment dawn to dusk, only briefly cheerful as the fireworks explode.

Most likely, that is due to the expansion of the idea of “meritocracy” towards the end of the previous century. We always knew that some people were better than others at some things. The poison was the increasing belief that such success was always the result of hard work, as opposed to luck and circumstance. Kings, after all, had been mysteriously selected by God, regardless of mundane qualifications.  An aura of intrinsic value concentrated on one’s absolute amount of wealth.

Well, most people work hard. And most people do not become the best. Obviously, by meritocratic belief, such folks deserve their fate. But equally obviously those folks know how hard they tried. So someone or something else must be to blame.

Self-described victims find reinforcement in “their” newspapers, or television channels, or social media networks. They are reinforced by all those worthy institutions catering to extremes to increase advertising dollars. And the tone shifts from “glorious” to “apocalyptic”. 

We were patriotic when I grew up in the ’50s. The country had just won a great war. Those times seem golden in retrospect, but only against a background of what had gone before _ depression, war and all.

Today, life could indeed seem glorious. But we squander the opportunity and prefer to cultivate our sullen anger.

My father had been advised to become Episcopalian to help his business chances. He dutifully  did so, paid contributions, and sent me every week. I learned the Bible stories, listened to sermons, sang in the choir, and hung out in youth groups. Then I grew up and moved away.

So I had the background. I remain cosmically religious, I use prayer to center my thoughts. Never actively rebelled against religions or their adherents. I see such tribes have social use and power. But…

Well I do see rituals as just bonding rituals. Beliefs as unifying, thoughtless, pleasant fantasies. I think there is a lot more to the universe than we can know, perhaps a purpose. But I cannot see anthropomorphic gods as more than daydream superheroes. And Jesus is just plain weird. Even in church every week, I could not get into that part of the ceremonies.

I’ve led a fortunate life and I have sympathy for all those whose road has been more difficult and nasty. But my own existence has been and continues to be what many would consider heaven. I believe it is my duty to accept that and appreciate it. My world is filled with joy, beauty, and majesty, none of which I have earned nor deserve.

Sun, birds, flowers, health, daily and ongoing miracles. Life is amazing and infinitely wondrous. I try to make every day a special holiday in that sense, no need for chocolate bunnies.

This culture spends a great amount of time rushing from one activity to another. “No time to say hello goodbye.” Ferocious moves in traffic to gain a second or two. Must get to_ what?

Most rushes end up in trivial activities and a lot of wasted time and waiting. Sitting at a restaurant, looking at the media, simply bored. Our laser focus rapidly scans but finds little worth seeing.

Oh, I did my share when I was younger. Modern life demands that we at least go through the motions. Everyone _ including beggars in the street _ must think that they are overworked and overwhelmed.

Everyone calls periodically for a kinder, gentler, more laid back lifestyle. But, like pedestrians crossing the street, anyone going too slow will simply get mowed down and eliminated. Fast bastards win, not least because they get the cars.

Sadly, none of this rushing seems to have actually made anyone more deeply happy. In fact a lot of rushing seems to explicitly try to disguise how unhappy the quick pace is. We wear out, but are too tired to rest as we rush to the bathroom for sleeping pills.

Little ants, and not a cheerful one in the bunch.

Never been to the city, but I think The Chicago School of Economics did a great disservice to civilization. Its basic idea was that any economic institution such as a corporation _ by extension any institution at all _ should be stripped to its core function and mercilessly concentrate on only that. In the case of a company, only make money and ignore all other distractions.

It’s a kind of religious argument to assume that there can be only one core purpose in any human activity. Even a simple goal of making money, for example, has questions as to how much, for how long, and under what circumstances_ not to mention at what sacrifice. People, after all, are free to ignore the products of a business they detest.

But the main problem is in considering any human institution as a pure machine. A steam engine may be tuned to perfection but any tribe _ which is what any team becomes _ is a constant balancing act. Paying employees “too much” may lead to a short-term loss of profit, but stabilize revenue in the long term by increasing retention.

And as far as society as a whole, the Chicago model can be corrosive. Institutions blinded by pure purpose easily become as evil and corrupted as any political tyranny. And just as abusive to anyone inside or outside its reach.

The idea that people can be reduced to cogs and gears, and that their desires can be simply located and easily bottled, has been one of the worst notions of the previous century. Chicago Economics is a dangerous delusion.

English contains many slippery words. Not only are the meanings ill-defined in particular, but also connotations keep changing. New words take on nuance. Such a word in my lifetime has been “professional.”

Strictly defined in my youth, “professional” meant you were paid for doing a job, with a connotation that such was your primary income. A “professional,” such as a plumber, was also expected to be expert in the craft.

Even back then the meaning was slipping. One could not be a “professional” doctor or lawyer, since there could be no amateurs on account of licensing. As certification and regulation engulfed society, that has been more and more the case. These days only freelance workers can be deemed professional or not, depending on what they really do for a living.

And the connotation has equivalently slipped. “Professional”, like “expert”, has come to signify someone claiming true esoteric knowledge. But the severely narrowing focus of esoteric study has diminished faith that an “expert”actually knows anything useful about general problems and makes most of us suspicious.

“Professional” has thus sunk to a kind of description of minimal adequacy, with grudging admiration as in a “true professional” (there are no false professionals.)

I am professional nothing these days, and I do not miss the classification.

I’ve lived in remote rural places and edgy urban areas so  I am well aware of and sympathetic to a desire to be able to defend oneself. I understand the comfort of a personal handgun keyed to the owner, limited to a few shots _ although in this day and age surely someone could come up with a more effective form of personal protection.

But war weapons _ assault rifles and the like _ are an adolescent fantasy. Their only real purpose is offense. And they corrupt society by forcing the militarization of the police.

The main fear expressed by supporters is that without access to such armament there would be no recourse against a corrupt government. But unless you have the military on your side there is no recourse anyway. Only in video games does an individual or group stand a chance against a modern state. But daydreams die hard.

I’m not sure banning such weapons would make much difference anyway. There are thousands of ways to die in a dangerous world _ cars being one of the main ones. And massive social damage is more likely to come from electronic sabotage or plague.

But we cringe every time another group of kids is slaughtered by a mad person with a grudge. At least we should try to make such events less likely.

In modern team sports, athletes are gigantic and highly tuned which puts them constantly on the edge of injury. A common result is that the coach must inculcate a spirit of “next man up” among the players. Whoever is available must _ and will _ fill a gap no matter how great the person being replaced.

Democracy and capitalism were expected in my youth to work the same way. Kill a dictator and you might win a war. But kill a democratically elected leader and a thousand would spring up to carry on the fight. If a leading industrial captain dies, either his firm or competition will make sure production continues.

The only possible exception back then was the historic controversy over whether a genius makes a difference. Would this be the same world without Caesar or Napoleon? But even that has faded a bit now.

Which makes it all the more curious that our current crop of entrepreneurs and politicians consider themselves irreplaceable. This would be silly, except that they support hordes of sycophants who sing their praises each night and cut their taxes each day. ”They deserve it!” We each secretly believe that we are irreplaceable. Our logic contradicts  that intuition. 

Worshiping the wealthy is a bad bet.

Good and bad often package together, can’t have one without the other. And so it is with seasons, as I write on this first day of vernal equinox in New York.

My wife complains that I do not make much of holidays so that “every day is the same.” Exactly why I like longer and shorter days, warm and cold, flowers and frost and brown stark tree limbs. Where I live no day is quite the same ever. And that does not even count the vagaries of weather, more active here than on a tropic isle.

Lately nature is unfortunately overshadowed by neighbors. Winter is mostly quiet, but spring is massive yard crew cleanup, summer extravagant construction, fall a cacophony of leaf removal. It’s often noisier than an airport in my backyard.

Fortunately I can escape to a park where the sounds are at least dulled by distance. And that is where I truly appreciate the magnificence of seasonal progression. Even in late winter, life changes week by week, and the pace quickens rapidly as the sun grows stronger.

For me, no day is the same, unless I hide inside and ignore all the miracles handed to me on a silver platter.

My brother-in-law has honed his sarcasm to a sharp edge and uses it frequently. He thinks it makes him seem smart in the social circles he inhabits. I do not like it.

A healthy dose of skepticism is a useful attitude. We shouldn’t believe everything we hear. Cynicism adds the veneer that we are probably being lied to. I can accept that most of the time, because, after all, everyone does have motives.

But sarcasm is a holier than thou attitude. It implies that I am not only wrong, but ignorantly and stupidly wrong. Sure “things will be fine”, the “doctor knows what he is doing”, intimations of the exact opposite. Beyond pessimism into a kind of bitter knowledge of how the speaker knows the world really works.

And that’s the rub. Because a lot of sarcastic people including, at times, my brother-in-law, don’t know what they are talking about. Not only are they ignorant, but also willfully, proudly, arrogantly ignorant. And they truly believe that biting sarcasm makes them seem clever and important.

Oh, it’s only words. I know, just another minor irritant in the social sludge. As a habit it is more corrosive to the user than to the recipient. And of course I have my own issues of internal smugness.

Yet I think if the elite of the world were somewhat less sarcastic, it might be a better place.