Airports are wonderful places to people watch. Where else can you witness the comings and goings of thousands of people from all over the world as they interact and pass by quickly and (mostly) efficiently? It is almost like a cross section of regional, ethnic, and cultural traditions. What is really interesting about people watching is not just what people say and do but what they wear and design themselves to be and what message they are sending to the strangers they might meet. Why is it important to send that message to strangers and what are they trying to say to someone they will most likely never see again?

I live on the border between The Castro and The Mission in San Francisco. You could easily draw a line between these two neighborhoods based entirely on clothing and conversation. You could almost do the same based on the drink selected by recipients of the various neighborhood  bars. People don’t just identify with each other locally but carry symbols or signs of this commonality. Symbols have deep and multiple meanings and it is up to the community to decide the interpretation of these symbols.

Semiotics is the science or study of signs and symbols, mostly discussed from an anthropological dimension. It looks at anything from the sounds we make and convert to words, body movements conveyed, to something so simple as red for hot and blue for cold water. Something as simple as clothing and hair treatment carry great cultural weight and convey to other’s the group to which you belong.

The interesting part is that these social groups are more than regional affiliations. A heavy metal fan in Kansas looks more or less like a heavy metal fan in Norway. A hipster in Ft. Lauderdale looks like a hipster in LA. Our “tribes” are no longer regionally created and developed demographic hubs of genetic or economic signifiers, but globally accepted subsets of the population designated by a preference and self imposed style of behavior and purchasing. We create our communities and use the symbols we register as being inclusive to designate who we believe our selves to be.

Its interesting when people say things in regards to clothing or lifestyle that “this is me!” Clothing and hair don’t determine an outlook on life but are a reflection of the values and interests of the group they find to be most interesting or matched to their preferences. For example, I met someone in college who considered her self a “California Girl” even though she had never been there. She subconsciously picked up on the signs and symbols of those she knew from California or what she saw in the media and consciously decided they best matched the symbols she saw in her self. A state became not a place of dwelling but a state of being.

I think its interesting that “not caring” also has a carefully crafted look. Remember how trendy “bed head” had been in the past? What message is being sent by such a look – cool, laid back, lacking the stress that is characteristic of the 21st century? How about the classic teenage bored look? Why is it cool to not care? How much time and effort is spent buying the clothing that designates the wearer as “not caring”? Its ironic.

So, is this systemic of globalization and branding; where McDonalds tastes the same everywhere people look the same as well? Or, are we faced with so many signs that we adorn our selves with symbols because its so hard to see those around us (like the Beatles wrote, “Got to be good looking ‘cause its so hard to see”)? Last but not least, do we struggle with identity because are bound into some form of accepted individualism, where you must be unique and present something new but still stay within a range of behaviors?

My vote is the last: individualism. But with individualism you can’t just stand out, you have to follow the rules. You have to stand out within a range of consciously or unconsciously observed criteria that is somehow determined and distributed without barely a mention of this action being performed. We learn without learning. We pick up on our social cues without realizing we are changing our views. It is perhaps the most ironic to want to fit in and stand out simultaneously and effortlessly, and those who are able to do this become the trend setters. Slavoj Zizek defines this behavior as unknown knows – you don’t know that you know something. The simple act of assembling and adorning the signs of a social group then becomes both a conscious and unconscious action: we are aware and conscious of our actions but the meaning is quietly obscured.

1.) I have a long held assumption that fate in a secular culture lays claims to the position previously held by God or a deity/deities. It is not God directly but the unseen hand of the universe directing the actions and behaviors of all that is around in order to end at a mean that favors our future and outcome. “Love” functions in a similar vein. Those who are recently disgruntled by romance will say they fell out of love or that their love died. From a purely semiotic perspective the action and behavior responsible for the loss of love is love itself in this scenario. It is love that fades, not the expectations of the individual.

This is what we learn from movies, TV, and music. You don’t have to do anything except show up. By simply being in the right place at the right time, none of which you really control, you are about to participate in the fate that was arranged or you. Chick flicks most obviously make this claim. The guy is perfect for the girl but one of them has a tragic flaw (like everyone) that must be resolved. After they run away from each other there is an event that brings them together and the movie ends in blossomed romance and assumed forever-after bliss.

Less obvious but just as potent are action films. A simple look at almost any action movie will exhibit the same narrative: start with a guy with a broken history or past. After hitting a low point a situation occurs that forces the guy to jump into one action or another. Past situations or events that seemed meaningless suddenly become the answer or solution to an impossible or improbable situation. In the end he saves the day but only because fate confronted him with an impasse that resulted in the hero becoming his true self.

The danger with this ideology is that it removes the action from the individual. Rather than take action, the action is expected to happen to the person. We all know the value of hard work and dedication. But what is interesting about culture is what is not said but performed without conscious reaction. It is not what opportunity we option to take. It is what situation we must inevitably take out of lack of options.

2.) I and many of my friends wrestle with a simple question: what should I do with my life? More than career, the question is one of balance and opportunity. The what is not so much what will I do but what am I fulfilling and finding fulfillment in finding.

My guess that there are hundreds of thousands of us waiting, thinking, talking, and hoping “that thing” will appear from the sky and show us the future we semi-consciously believe we are “destined” for. We feel that we know there is something remarkable just around the corner just waiting to spring to life even if we don’t believe this is true in a purely rational sense.

3.) In the past you just found a job. You got married and had kids. You followed the rules and played the game and were rewarded as such. Further back than that you followed in your father or relative’s footsteps. If they were an ironsmith you were an ironsmith. With seemingly unlimited options comes unlimited need for navigating the confusion of option. There must be some balance between letting life hand you off to the next opportunity and completely steering your future and picking your options.

4.) I struggle with the idea of things happening for a reason. In theory I love the idea that there are no accidents and occurrences are not fully random. The idea that our life is a plot, a sweeping narrative that will lead us to our true opportunities keeps the self help industry in suits and Mercedes. Beside this romanticized notion is the idea that random is not satisfied with a conclusion, that there is no deep meaning to the occasions or moments that seem too perfect or to materialize in strange and wonderful ways. For actions to be meaningless or devoid of a greater, pre-conceived narrative seems dark and twisted. But why?

The Book of Job is a wonderful example of the meaning in meaninglessness. When faced with calamity, Job turned first to friends who told him that there was a reason such horrible things happened – like past actions or sins committed. But it was the figure of God who said, in many ways, there is no meaning to the calamity, good and bad happened despite the actions of the individual. In the end the only meaning to be gained was through reaction.

As G.K. Chesterton pointed out in much of his work, order is the greatest miracle. This is what I am starting to consider seriously. The actions and events of every day are miraculous in that they happen. The meaning we gain from our awareness is perhaps the propellant necessary to expand the opportunity with which we are inevitably faced. If this is the case, we live in the most miraculous period of human history. But with fate it is important to carefully and critically consider the work of what might be seen as an invisible hand as we just might see our fingerprints on the wheel or smoking gun.

1.) I’m writing this from a flight to San Diego where I will eventually make my way to Binghamton, NY for my Grandmother’s 90th birthday party. Binghamton is where I was born roughly. It is where my parents fell in love, both sets of grandparents lived or a number of years, and was my home for a brief period as a child. Places like this are not locations, they are signifiers. History is not as important to personal remembrance as is the mythological representation of the past. You don’t visit a location you visit a complex web of narratives intertwined with deeply held meanings.

The house we lived in the longest, in Hickory, NC was purchased by a close friend’s family when my parents sold it. They would often invite me over to see it when I was in town but I could not do it. I was curious but couldn’t seem to go back. This is Hickory for me. When visiting I generally stick to my parents’ current house and rarely venture out. There is something strange and foreign about NC and I feel uncomfortable understanding the deep effect the location had on me. I feel that I am uncomfortable with feeling how much it means to me.

2.) A few months ago I and a few of my cousins were able to take a walk through our grandparents former house in Maryland. We all loved that house and remembered it as being larger than life. There was more then enough room for a dozen or so cousins to entertain ourselves for a week or two at a time. We loved every square inch of that house and the memories that were created. But it looked different 15 years later. The size was reasonable, the rooms had changed a bit, and the furniture was representative of its new owners. The physical structure of the house was there but the image had changed drastically. The image remembered did not match the house. To my mind it was connected to but was a whole new house entirely. It was as if I visited a caricature of their former dwelling.

3.) So much of my childhood is remembered through photographs. Do I remember those moments directly or build a probable story through what I’m told and what I know of my past? What does it mean to remember and keep those ideas active? I look at photographs from my childhood and don’t recognize the child I see. The child in the pictures seems like an image of my future children; a person I know closely but can’t picture.

The other day when I was falling asleep I thought about a situation in which I went back in time thirty years and knew no one. I would call my parents and ask for help and wondered what I would say in order to convince them it was me from another time. What would they say they saw me? Would they recognize their genes and mannerisms? Would I tell them of my childhood as though recounting something from the past that was their future?

This leads me to the simple conclusion that you can only be a spectator in the past.

4.) I’ve been spending a great deal of time taking pictures lately. Looking at the screen on my digital camera is an interesting experience. Facial expressions of those being photographed change dramatically every few seconds. When being photographed people have the potential to become rigid. The awkward smiling stance taken while the camera is flashing its initial rounds is more than a little bit interesting. The smile may represent a real feeling but it is not in itself real. It is a symbol which is wished to be recounted when viewed later. Why is a neutral pose not the generally excepted standard for being photographed? we are creating meaning through intentional gestures, but what does this mean for us to create these gestures when we and others are consciously aware that we are creating these gestures?

When I was young, maybe 6-8, my family lived in a house with a significant field behind it. For those years this field was my playground. I built paths through the tall grass from the garage to the woods a few acres back. I would spend all afternoon back there, forging away through through my imagination and any scenario that would come to mind. ANYTHING was possible as it was all created. Now my world is made of concrete and brick. New paths are roads I have never walked on and the noise and chaos, as beautiful as it is, keeps my eyes pegged to the walkway looking three steps ahead for oncoming bicycles and pedestrians.

Harvey Cox once defined pre-modern man as living in a magical glen where the very rocks and trees had fiendish properties that would either make or break you. The Babylonian prophetesses of Ishtar would partake in ritual copulation, hoping their act would inspire the gods of rain to do their work. The cave drawings of Lascaux, France are said to be a form of sympathetic magic, meaning the act of drawing one’s self killing an animal inspired the action to occur in reality. The point is that for so long humanity saw itself as a series of interactions between nature and humanity. Neither one controlled, but both played a part in what became. Nature was every bit as alive as flesh and blood.

There is something overwhelming about the outdoors: the organic systems in place, the flow of material and energy (not necessarily in the new-age sense), the awareness of your fragility. You know that you can not control. When you are camping and cooking over a fire you have to first build something. You don’t just flip a switch. You can’t just turn on an oven. You have to perform an action. It is you interacting with what is around you.

When I’m in the woods I carry a knife. Not for defense, but because I’m beginning to believe it is symbolic. The tool is a segue between man and nature. It is a simple way of breaking a divide between who we are and what our species came from. It is difficult to consider and thoroughly grasp the idea that we are tied in with our ecosystem. We are told that.  We know that. But do we really know that? I for one, despite my experience outdoors, think in terms of man and nature. Two separate entities metaphorically separated at birth. But when you cut something real to build a fire you are changing the variables. You rely on it directly.

Being enchanted with nature is an old idea. Thoreau defined this poetically. He wanted to live deep, suck the marrow out off life. He wanted his interaction with the world around him to be meaningful. He wanted to take the actions that led to learning and find what he felt was missing. He is not alone. Why in a world of houses and hotels do people still camp? Why do people build fires on the beach? Why if we can see it on a screen would we step out in the cold to watch the northern lights? We are missing something deeply human.

When my parents lived in Alaska I visited a small pond behind their house a few times in the winter. At 40 below zero I laid down in a foot of snow and watched the sky for as long as I could take the cold. The sky was so bright and it was so quiet I could literally hear the snow land on my hood and around me. I felt so deeply satisfied.

I don’t have any problems with cities. I love the resources, the cultural events, people, and interesting food. But it isn’t enough. We, or I, need to be outside among the trees.

I really thought I would be writing more about the DC to SF transition. Reality, it seems, is a little different than intention. Even as I write this post I think about the fact that it has been over two months since I left DC, my home for over 7 years, and joined Michal, who had been here since we arrived from our drive across the country at the end of December. I remember waiting for Christmas as a kid and how long just a few days would seem to take. Hours would never seem to end then. Now, at the ripe old age of 29 I can not believe how quickly the days pass. I woke up, unpacked some boxes, and now its April.

I will say it has been a great experience so far and not a day goes by that we don’t think our selves lucky to live in such a beautiful and interesting city. We have been trying to make the most of the sites and are balancing whether we feel more like tourists or locals. Either way the sun, the sites, and the food are there for everyone.

But its not the sites and the sounds so much as the movement of a place that makes it what it is. There are streets here that seem to be transplanted from Manhattan, hills that seem to take on an almost Greek feel. Its the little things that characterize the individuality of a living city, just as it is the individual makeup of muscles that allow us to walk.

I’ve been thinking about home a lot lately and have been struggling to find its meaning. The dichotomy between home, the location in which you keep your possessions and the place in which you are connected at an emotional level brings up an interesting series of questions. If home is where the heart is then why do we feel a longing for a connection to a location? How do we connect to our place and create home? Why is it that when we change our address we might keep all the belongings and the people involved, but merely the change of physical location involves a change in our perception? 

No answer yet but I will be looking into this as we further settle in and find our place in this crazy world.

Truth and fact are two words that seem synonymous initially. However, in thinking over these words it seems they operate at different semiotic levels. At a surface level, fact is set in stone. It is not changeable, it is the reality of the situation. Truth is a little more subjective. The meaning is a little more idiosyncratic. Something can be true without being a fact.

For example, look at the scandals brewing around a few of Oprah’s book selections, mainly the latest Angel at the Fence. Author Herman Rosenblat wrote of his time in a concentration camp and of meeting his now wife from opposite sides of the fence. In truth only about 40% of his story checks out, according to the investigative reporter taking credit for the find. In fact, once news broke and he admitted to how little of his story was accurate the book was pulled from shelves and discontinued. If this book was published as fiction or even historical fiction a controversy never would have arisen. What is interesting to me about this is the reliance on truth as being fact and fiction as being imagined.

Closely related to the division between truth and fact is the subject of myth. Commonly understood to be the stories of ancient Greek gods or the mythology of some obscure people groups, myths are quite common and can relate to any set of words in which a meaning is attributed. We carry personal mythologies about our experiences and relationships, making the events we participate in more concrete and satisfying.

What is strange about myth is that it is outside the boundaries of fact and fiction. We live by myths  recognizing them as not “factual” but partially true, or culturally important. An apple a day will not keep the doctor away, but eating vegetables and fruit will go a long way towards healthy living. Working hard does not always mean you will succeed, but it is a good step in the right direction.

Roland Barthes once said, “Myth is neither a lie nor a confession: it is an inflection.” It makes me wonder, are we looking for a deeper expression of being alive by living vicariously through those who have experienced unimaginable circumstances? Is the day-to-day a dream world of repetition leaving fantastic circumstances as the only real world around us? Perhaps the experiences of a “hero” allow for the inflection of reality we crave - the hero’s story gives meaning to our personal circumstances.

According to some researchers, our brains have not evolved, or adapted to understand media such as television, and even to a lesser degree, books. For all intents and purposes what we see, read, and hear is to us real. Why do we get emotional or aroused at sights and scenes in movies? We know it isn’t real. But do we really know it isn’t real?

Why does it matter if it is factual? Isn’t the deeper meaning of a story of love and survival the love and survival of the characters? Is it, for entertainment’s sake, important to know if the details are completely true, or is the idea of the story the part that we need and are desperately looking for? If a story gives hope to people who have in many ways given up on ancient mythologies, is that hope then factual rather than fictional? If a story becomes part of a cultural consciousness, is it then true even if the details don’t match up?

In this sense religion takes a strange position. Taken more to claims of absolute inerrancy then the spirit of a text, it seems we do not want to believe something unless we can believe in it as testable and provable - even in questions of divinity. The Evangelical Christian doctrine of scriptural inerrancy is a perfect example. In order to counter claims of historical criticism and evolutionary development, a hard line approach was taken. The text has in some ways been reduced to a set of defined standards and convictions rather than a living, breathing document. How much of the mystery and meaning is lost in the pursuit of testable and provable theorems?

What we have lost in the era of investigative journalism and scientific determinism is the ability to see outside of the fact/fiction dichotomy. The myth is understood to be simply fiction  placed into categories for easy consumption by literary students and scholars. But what if we looked at Rosenblat’s story from another direction. What if the book should be published under the banner of a myth as a third category of literature? It may or may not be true yet the ideas presented are human and necessary.

What is more important - to prove something as historically inaccurate and defend the claim to the death or indugle in the very human act of experience and of finding meaning?