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There is a wonderful law of nature that the three things we crave most in life– happiness, freedom and peace of mind– are always obtained by giving them to someone else.

—— General Peyton March

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This seems like the right thought at this time.  All too many people all over the world  lacking in happiness, freedom and peace and too many people trying to satisfy these desires of their own in a greedy, selfish way, believing they are not connected to the suffering of others.  That they cannot have an effect.

But ultimately we are all connected.  And perhaps it will only take a few small acts of kindness in our everyday lives that will snowball, inspiring others to action and changing the way that our collective mind looks at the suffering of others,  allowing us to believe that we can do great things.  And with that belief, we could do great things.

And wouldn’t that be a big step forward to achieving happiness, freedom and peace of mind for ourselves?

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The piece at the top of this post is titled Lines of Connection and is a wee 2″ by 4″ painting and is available as part of the Little Gems show at the West End Gallery in Corning.

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You know, sometimes you try to practice happiness and it just doesn’t want to work out.

It’s been a rollercoaster of emotions lately, watching the horrors of Haiti on a daily basis.  Too much suffering.  But the outpouring of generosity and aid to this badly shaken country began to raise my spirits and I started to think that maybe the better angels of our national persona will prevail.

But there were two stories in the news yesterday that put a bleak pall over my efforts for sunny optimism.

The first was the bonuses announced for some of the Wall Street firms, including Goldman Sachs‘ announcement that their bonuses would total 16.2 billion dollars.

$ 16, 200, 000, 000.00

That is enough money to rebuild Haiti, estimated at 10 billion dollars, and still leave them with an incredible 6.2 billion.  It’s enough to pay off the deficits of all the states of the union.

It’s serious coin, folks.  And this is only one company.

I think everyone deserves the opportunity to make as much money as they wish but there seems to be something amiss here, something that gnaws at me.  There’s an obscenity to this bonus amount that I can’t fully explain.  I can’t see the productive part they’re playing  throughout our society that says they deserve such a huge amount.  Are they truly that productive?  How many jobs did they create?   I’m certainly no economist but I really need to have it explained to me how in this economy a company can pay bonuses that average nearly $500, 000 per employee.  For every employee, although I’m sure the office staff is seeing much, much less.

I could go on and on but I want to save part of my venting today for yesterday’s news that the Supreme Court had rolled back long-standing (back to the time of Teddy Roosevelt) restrictions on campaign financing, allowing corporations to unlimitedly support the candidate of their choice.

There is your classic Pandora’s Box.

This is creates the potential for a virtual Wild West atmosphere for special interest campaign spending.  You thought that the political races had been toxic in the past?  Think again because you ain’t seen nothing yet.

And it’s not going to affect us in just the obvious ways where state and national candidates who are the beck and call of  certain industries and corporations will be even more difficult to bring down.  It’s at the base of our legal system where local and regional judicial races will take place where this spending will have it’s greatest effect as judges who are beholden to the special interests who paid to get them elected will take over the lower levels of our legal system, making it harder and harder to challenge these special interests in court.  If at all.

And there would be no more recusals for conflict of interest because it would be legal for these special interests to back the judicial  candidate openly.  The rich will get richer, the poor will get poorer and more numerous.  See Goldman-Sachs above.  This will only help them as well to become more and more insulated from any legal recourse.

But like any Pandora’s Box, there are results that the person who opened the box never imagined.  Those who opened it yesterday obviously were more attuned to the corporate voice than that of the common man and perhaps thought that this would only serve to strengthen the grip of Big Business on this country.  It was more about allowing the powers that be to continue to gain even more strength than it was ever about First Amendment rights.  If anything, this will only serve to obscure true First Amendment concerns in the future.

But we’ll have to wait a bit and see.   There’s a part of me that thinks this whole thing could turn around and bite them right on their black-robed asses and  that they could unleash a sea change they never envisioned.

Just a feeling.  Can’t quite see it yet but there’s a feeling.

Anyway, I’ve got to stop this before I become any more agitated.  Maybe I’ll be able to paint myself into a trance with some semblance of tranquility today.

Hope so.

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Well,  the auction to raise some funds for the relief effort in Haiti has ended and $5000 was raised, which will be dispersed in the next day or so.  In relative terms, it’s a small amount but it was the result of the donations of a handful of regular people, not Wall Street financiers .  If this is happening all over the country, all over the world, it becomes a massive amount.  An amount that can bring a suffering nation back to its feet.  I think  the thing that can be taken from this is that when small actions are tied together, great things can be achieved.  It’s about creating an atmosphere of optimistic effort.

I wanted to write about how we could use this as a starting point to battle our natural tendencies towards cynicism, selfish greed and so many other negative traits that hinder us as a people.  Intolerance.  Schadenfreude.  The negative region of our identity that is the playground for perennial negativists like Limbaugh and his ilk, whose incredible wealth is supported by keeping the masses apart.  The last thing people like that want is any type of unity of spirit.

Their pessimism is an easy tonic to sell.  Unfortunately.  And all too many of us are ready to take a swig of this terrible tonic.

But I ‘ve already deleted two paragraphs.  It’s too easy when examining such a subject to be sucked into the vortex of negativity these people espouse.   All I will say is that nothing great has ever been achieved by such negative thinkers throughout history.  Every great achievement has been accomplished despite these pessimists by people with vision and optimism, people who focused on broadening human possibility.

Hallelujah.

That being said, here’s one of my favorite versions of Leonard Cohen‘s wonderful composition, Hallelujah.  It’s from the late Jeff Buckley.  Powerful tonic…

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When news of the earthquake first hits the airwaves this past week, I, like many others , gave a quick look up from my own concerns and tried to put it behind me as being out of my realm.

Other people’s problems, you know?  You’ve got problems. I’ve got problems.  We all have problems of our own so why should I put myself out to help people I will likely never meet in a country I will likely never visit?

To my shame, that self-serving part of me took over for the first days of this tragedy.  I tried to avoid the coverage as if by not seeing it, it didn’t exist in my little world.  But the scope of the tragedy made it unavoidable and as I watched and saw the suffering written in those faces, I realized that the worst day in my life would be a moment of relief for these folks.

I have been down to the last penny I had in this world.  I have walked the streets of strange cities in desperation.  I have been near the end of my rope.

But seeing a stunned mother sitting in front of a pile of rubble where her home once stood, with her four children dead underneath and no one there to help her get to them so she might see them once more and bury them, made me realize that my problems were insignificant by comparison.  I had not known true need.  I had not known true desperation.  My rope was nowhere near its end.

The Haitian people are in true need and know all too well the meaning of desperation and loss.  Too many are near the end of their ropes.

So what could I do that would be of some help to these people?  At first, I gave cash to Americares, a relief organization that I have donated to in the past.  They have had a long relationship, over 26 years,  with Haiti and the local agencies there and less than 1% of my donation goes to administration and fundraising.

But it didn’t seem like enough.  Cheri suggested I auction off a painting which at first, I resisted.  There was a cynical part of me that felt that there was something self-serving in this, as though it would be perceived as promoting myself rather than a sincere effort to do what was best.  But Cheri pointed out that this was a genuine way to raise more needed money using the only tools at my disposal, my paintings.  Perhaps by rewarding the donor with an article of value they would bid higher and more money would be raised and in some small way we, the bidder and I, could be of more help together than separately.

So this auction started.

Here’s how it goes:  If you wish to participate, you can bid on any of the paintings shown by bidding in the Comments section below or by e-mailing me at info@gcmyers.com .  Bidding closes Tuesday January 19th, at 12 noon EST.

The winning bidder receives:

*   Their choice of what organization receives the donation. For every $1.00 bid, a donation of $1.25 will be made.

*    The painting they have bid on, shipped and insured without cost to them.  The painting will be dedicated on its back to the winning bidder.

*    A signed copy of my book.

*    The satisfaction of knowing they have tried to make a difference.

So, if you wish to participate, please bid, and if you can’t, pass this along to someone you  know who may be interested.

AUCTION UPDATE

“Proclamation”

12″ by 16″  on canvas/ Value $1400

Current High Bid——- $ 1500

Current High Bidder– Eliza Schissel

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“Archaeology: The New Phoenix

8″ by 16″ on canvas/ Value $1450

Current High Bid——— $ 1000

Current High Bidder–  Denny Springmann

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“New Day of Hope”

6″ by 10″ image on paper/ 16″ by 20″ frame/ Value $ 1000

Current High Bid———$ 500

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Current High Bidder-  G. Edwards

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Thank You!

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When we were driving back from my great-nephew’s birthday yesterday, Cheri mentioned something that a friend had told her earlier this week.  It was a minor incident, one of no great consequence, that happened locally.  Neither of us had heard anything about it nor had we seen it in our local newspaper.

I said that it was the type of thing that you would have seen in local newspapers of the past but which no longer appeared in the new reality of print journalism.  Our local newspaper, the Elmira Star Gazette, which was the first newspaper that Frank Gannett operated on the way to building his news empire, has evolved over the years from an informative, vital chronicle of the local area to  a much leaner, less informative leg of a group of local  newspapers that is more regional in coverage, sharing reporters and coverage.   As a result, there are  fewer reporters covering much greater areas with less space to fill on the pages of each paper.  Local coverage consists of a page or two, at best.

Gone are the little details that newspapers of the past provided, the minutiae of day to day life in a locality that gave the reader a true feel of the newspaper’s area of coverage.  Less coverage of small incidents, minor arrests, social gatherings, small local events, etc.  The type of things that give an area’s readers a sense of definition of what they are as a community.

That’s a lot to lose.

My fear, which is beyond nostalgic longings for a return to some idealized past, is that the generations of the future will actually have a harder time trying to put together the day to day life of any specific area because of the loss of this minutiae  that was in the past always gathered in one convenient source, the newspaper.  For instance, as I’ve written before, I didn’t know much, practically nothing, about my great-grandfather’s life in the Adirondacks in the late 19th and early 20th century.  But by reading the old newspapers of that time and locality ( St. Regis Falls) I was able to get a very good an detailed idea of how that area’s inhabitants lived their lives, their social  and family networks and how they operated and interacted as a community.  It seemed like every little detail was chronicled in some way that I would never be able to find in today’s papers.

It gave depth and detail to a time and place that is a distant point in the past.

With the loss of the newspaper’s effective local coverage, I don’t know if the same could be said today, even with all the awesome sources of information available to us.  There is an enormous amount of data, given all the new technology such as the internet, out there but it’s not unified and day to day in one specific area.

Maybe I shouldn’t care about this.  Who does?  And maybe I’m just plain wrong.  Maybe it will be easier in the future to pull all the data together and get an idea of how specific people lived in specific localities.  I just feel there is a loss here that goes beyond the purely nostalgic, especially when examining the historic anthropology of a given area.

I think a small part of our cultural voice and identity will fade away…

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Resolved…

The new year is started.

As far as resolutions, I’ve never really believed in people’s abilities to suddenly change the behaviors that have been a part of themselves for most of their lives.

For the most part, we are what we are.

However, I do believe that we can change our attitudes, our perceptions of the world and ourselves.  And that is where the life-altering changes occur.

At least that’s my belief.

When I was younger, I thought I needed to leave a scar on this world to let it know that I was here.  I saw myself as a large, sharp-edged piece of rock ready to bludgeon the world into submission.  But as time passes I see myself as a much smaller, smoother stone that simply lets the world simply flow over, creating the barest ripple on the surface.

Perception.

My resolution is to end this year 2010 with a different, more positive view of this world than the one with which I am starting.  If I can do that, I will have done more positive things for myself and others. If I have to effect the world, let it be in a positive fashion.  In the grand scheme of things, what more can I ask?

Happy New Year…

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And There Is a New Day…

And There Is a New Day

That’s the title of this painting,  that’s showing at the Haen Gallery in Asheville, NC.  When I was thinking about what I would use for my end of the year post I thought of this piece.  I guess it’s because of the fact that I see it as being about a type of rebirth, the promise of possibility that comes with every new day.

And that is very much like the feeling that comes when we turn the page on the old year and look upon the new.

A clean slate.  New opportunity.

Fresh legs.  Clear eyes.

New car smell and zero miles on the odometer.

The road is open and runs straight to the horizon.  Put the pedal to the floor and don’t look in the rearview because nothing can catch you now.  It’s a free run, baby.

That’s the attitude I hope to wake up with tomorrow, in the first light of 2010.  Energized and full of optimism for the future.

However, I know that’s a tall order and you can never fully shake away all the dust from your past.  You’ll always carry a little forward with you.  The important thing is to keep moving forward.

And that is all I ask from the new year and each new day: to keep moving forward.

have a great  new year…………..

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On Christmas Day

There are Christmas Days when you wake up with thoughts of the right now, thoughts about what has to be done, gifts that need to be delivered, etc.  Just thoughts about how you’re going to make it through the day.

Today I was up early,  as I normally am, and headed over to the studio.  I began to think about the roots of the holiday and the story of the nativity and the star that shone over the scene in the story.  The whole thing brought me back to looking into the sky and all the questions raised by looking upon the endless stars and innumerable galaxies, seeing how vast the universe seems and how small we truly are. Why are we here?  What is our purpose?  Are we linked in some way with the ancient lights that reach our eyes?

Perhaps the story of Jesus brings  comfort and an answer of sorts to these questions.  It provides a reason for being and the sense of a link to the unknown and unknowable.  It renders the universe to a single point of contact, one that feels knowable and within reach, if one only has faith in the belief.  For believers, the universe is simply proof of the existence of God, all part of a great design.

I can understand the attraction and comfort of this belief.  The need for it.

But whether I am fully invested in this belief or feel that it answers all my questions, I cannot say.  I can say that, even while still questioning the origin of the stars above,  there is much to be gained by living our lives in a way that is filled with love and empathy, acceptance and forgiveness.  All things that Jesus taught.  Whether you believe or not, a life filled with these qualities links us with those around us and the rest of the world and possibly the universe and all the forces supporting it.

And maybe, ultimately, that’s the meaning behind this day.

Merry Christmas. Live well…

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This is the image I was searching for the other day when I was distracted by the portrait of Willie Nelson.  This is a scene from the very early 20th century at the railroad station in Forestport, NY, in the lower part of the Adirondacks.  It’s where my great-grandfather had his logging operations back then and maintained a home as well as a couple of other businesses.

As I’ve read about that area and that time I am struck by the contrast between then and now.  If you drive through the Adirondacks you encounter town after small town, all sleepy little affairs with hardly anyone around except for the seasonal tourists.  Forestport is one of those towns.  But back in the day, Forestport was a buzzing, vibrant town.  It had numerous mills, processing the trees coming from the Adirondack wilderness to supply the lumber to build the growing cities of the northeast.  There were huge numbers of loggers going into the forests every day — my gr-grandfather had 250 lumberjacks working for him at one time.  There were canal workers that transported the lumber with mules and horses down the Black River Canal to the Erie Canal.  There were boat-builders there who built the barges that traveled the canals and carriage builders to make wagons to haul logs and people.  These workers spawned a whole support network that created cheese factories, breweries, retail stores, restaurants and taverns, all employing numbers of other workers.

Everything was local, nearly everything produced nearby.  Ironically, the very canal and later highway system that allowed the town to ship out the resources that allowed it to grow were the beginning of the end, as new products from outside the local area were now easily shipped in on these transportation portals.  Products became more regional then national and most of the products consumed were no longer local in any sense of the word.

As the forests depleted from the voracious cutting, there were fewer and fewer loggers.  Fewer and fewer mills.  The canal was replaced by the railroad at first then the highway so the canal workers and boatbuilders became obsolete.  The newly popular car and truck replaced the local carriage builders.  And with the loss of these workers came the end of the need for the businesses that supplied and supported them.  The cheese factories closed.  The stores and restaurants were boarded up.  Slowly, the town dwindled until all that remained was sleepy little burgh that wouldn’t be recognizable to the residents from that time.

I’m not saying this time or that time was better or that it’s a crying shame that this place no longer is the same.  Things change.  For many reasons.  There are thousands of places like Forestport throughout the northeast and spreading through the midwest of this country, towns that are like little dying planets whose heyday has passed.

The interesting thing for me is that bustling, life-filled world is barely remembered, only existing in a few photos and a few writings.  Makes me wonder how what we view now as the centerpoints of our lives will change and if, a century from now, this time will exist only in memories and images that may be of little interest to the citizens of that time.

Of course, Ted Williams, Walt Disney and I will be there to remind the people then of this time, after they revive us from our cryogenically induced naps.

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A number of years ago, while wandering around the National Mall in Washington, DC, Cheri and I stumbled across this older memorial just off  to the side.  There was nobody there and it was a nice respite from the crowds.  We had no idea what it was, having never seen it in any literature, but deduced it was a World War I memorial from the inscription across its crown.

It was very rundown.  The marble was severely stained and appeared to be in disrepair.  The foliage around it was untrimmed and though there was a lovely peacefulness there befitting a memorial to brave warriors, it was a sad sight.  We walked on to other, more well known monuments.

Today there is one surviving soldier from World War I, Frank Buckles.  One last witness to the war that was the first to earn the moniker of world war.  Horrible enough to be called The Great War.  The war to end all wars. Over 115,000 of our soldiers died from 1917-1918.  To put that into perspective, around 4000 of our troops have perished in Iraq and Afghanistan.

It was a war that changed the world.

And our national memorial to it sits unattended and passed by.  A great shame and testimony to the shortness of our collective memory.  Frank Buckles is the honorary chairman of the World War I Memorial Foundation which is trying to raise funds to renovate the monument and bring it to the attention of the public.  It’s a worthy effort for the old soldier.

My hope is that other soldiers from later wars will recognize the need for stepping forward to champion this cause.  If the memory of the blood and sacrifice of the 115,000 Americans killed in that war can be lost after a mere 90 years, their own efforts and self-sacrifice may soon go the same route and be forgotten as well.

And that would be a great shame.

So take a look at their site and if you’re in DC  stop in and honor the fallen of the First World War.

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