Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Happiness

Most Americans want to be happy. In fact, we are so keen to be happy that we even sacralized it in our Declaration of Independence.We spend most of our waking hours doing things that we believe are "in the pursuit of happiness." But how many of us are actually "happy"? How many of us can honestly say that we have reached the peak of the mountain, where happiness abides, and we are now permanent residents there?

The truth is, not many people are happy these days. There is perennial and perpetual grousing from Americans at every level of our society. Even those you might imagine would be the happiest among us -- the very wealthy individuals who never have to worry about money, cars, or unpaid medical bills -- seem to be unhappy. They are constantly trying to accumulate more and more wealth, as though their pursuit of happiness requires the never-ending acquisition of ever more money. They are persistently trying to use their fortunes to change our culture into their own likeness, indicating that they are unhappy with the way our nation is evolving. It also means that those of us at the lower end of the socio-economic scale are probably equally happy, or equally miserable, as those at the very tippy-top.

Why is that? Could it be because we treat happiness like it is a destination? Like it is a place that we will eventually move to, and live there forever? Or like it is a material reality, and if we can just own enough of that material, we will own happiness?

Paradoxically, thinking of happiness in those terms is to invite unhappiness, because it is an unrealistic idealization of happiness that can never be attained. Like the Buddha taught us, unfulfilled desires lead to suffering. And there is no greater suffering than the unfulfilled desire to live in a place called happiness. Unless, of course, you move to Happy, Texas, population 647. Even there, though, the population is very tiny.

Perhaps what is needed is to reorient our understanding and expectations of happiness. Maybe happiness is not a place where we get to stay forever. It may, instead, be constituted of rare moments in time; when we are in the loving embrace of the woman or man we love, for example, or giving loud and laughing smoochie kisses to our young children and grandchildren. Or during peak moments of performance, like running in a race, or playing music in front of an appreciative audience, or standing on a mountain enjoying wonderful vistas.

Happiness is, indeed, a rare commodity in a long human life, which is why we are more apt to cherish and remember moments like these. At the end of our lives, perhaps those collective minutes of happiness will be added up and presented to us for review, and only then will we realize that most of our lives were passed in happiness, even though they seemed instead to be filled with heartache and sorrow. It could be that by understanding the very fleeting and passing nature of happiness, and not expecting that it will be a permanent psychological or material experience, we will actually find ourselves to be more happy. Perhaps by appreciating the serendipitous moments in our lives when we feel happy, we will actually find ourselves living a more joyful existence.









Thursday, September 21, 2017

Scratching Fleas

Humans are like
parasites on mother earth,
sucking her oil like blood,
polluting her sky with our
greed-befouled collective breath.

It is no wonder she awakens
from slumber to start scratching
at her bothersome fleas.

Hurricanes, flooding rains,
earthquakes, tornadoes,
wildfires and the ever
increasing heat of
her fevered infection.

The earth is a self-healing being,
and her irritation with our infestation
increases by the minute.

The spirit of the earth
stirs itself awake,
and we should be very afraid.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2017


Thursday, September 14, 2017

Will There Be A Trump-Inspired Mexican-American Roundup?

Spic.

Wetback.

Beaner.

Taco bender.

Lawn man.

Illegal.

Light skinned n*gger.

These are all words and phrases that have been applied to me at some point in my life. Starting in high school in the late 1970s, I became aware that being half-Mexican in Oklahoma meant I would be tagged with racial slurs. It also meant that I would endure hearing many "jokes" about Mexicans from white people who were too clueless to realize they were being racist.

White High School Popular Guy: "Hey, Francisco! Are you a wetback? Or a scratch back?"

(They would use my Spanish name when they were about to launch into some off-color joke.)

Me: "What?"

(I was still at the play-along stage then.)

White High School Popular Guy: "Did you swim across the river, or crawl under the fence?"

Never mind that I was born in the United States, as was my father. The fact that I had a Latin sounding name meant the white people who dominated my high school felt free to say shit like that to my face. Not all of them, but a surprising amount. Where I grew up, there were no black people, only a few Hispanics, and quite a lot of Native American people. So, in my hometown of Henryetta, Oklahoma, racist attention was directed at the available minorities.

I spoke with my father about it once. I asked him if I should fight the kids who made fun of my Mexican heritage. He told me to just let it roll off my back. He said fighting wouldn't stop them, and only working harder than them would make a difference. It took me years before I understood what it meant to "work harder," which is about one and a half times more than how hard most white people have to work. When you grow up as part of a minority in America, you start the race behind everybody else, and have to run twice as fast to catch up. Most minority people never do catch up.

My father told me that, one day, there would probably be another Mexican-American "repatriation," like he remembered from the 1930s. A lot of white people don't even know about that sorry chapter of American history, when United States citizens of Mexican descent were forcibly detained and transported to Mexico. This happened between 1929-1936. People who were born in the United States, many of whom were fully legal US citizens, were rounded up and sent to Mexico for the same reasons that we are hearing today: "They are taking our jobs." "They are bringing in crime and drugs!" "They use an unfair amount of public resources!" "Dirty Mexicans are dragging down our neighborhoods!"

It is estimated that during that time period, between 500,000 to 2,000,000 people were rounded up for deportation. Further, as much as 60% of those rounded up were US citizens -- people who were born in the US.

Just like today, the repatriation of the 1930s was supported and egged on by a sitting Republican president, Herbert Hoover. Like Trump, Hoover played on racial and populist sentiments to justify his decisions. And like Hoover, it is highly likely that Trump will go down in history as one of the worst -- if not THE worst -- American president ever to hold office.

With his decision to rescind DACA, Trump and his ever-kneeling suppliant (or suck-pliant) AG Jeff Sessions are sending overt signals to the racists in our nation that say it is okay to harass and even harm those they "suspect" of being illegal immigrants. Like the fat, white dumb ass Oklahoman captured on video telling a woman and her daughter they were "speaking immigrant," and should go back to Mexico, racist people are being emboldened by the "wink and a nod" racists who dominate our executive branch of government right now. I suspect it won't be long before we are reading about calls to "round up" Mexicans and "send them back to where they came from." I won't be surprised if it actually happens. My dark-skinned father saw it coming a long time ago. It is sad to see it all coming true.

Just last night, Trump met with Democratic leaders Chuck Schumer and Nancy Pelosi. After a chummy dinner in the White House, Schumer and Pelosi came out to announce that a deal had been reached to save DACA. Trump followed shortly thereafter to say a deal had not been agreed upon. For Trump, apparently the only way he will agree to a deal is if the Democrats agree to funding his penis-compensating border wall. While Dreamers wait and wonder, politicians haggle over who has the bigger hands and tiniest heart.