Author: lou sight

Snickers

Feeling hangry? You need snickers. Hungry and angry and sneering at others, even when the others are our own.

This election circus/campaign has been about snickers and sweet talking (toothing?) the angry who are hungry for anything else.

Of course Donald didn’t suddenly emerge as the hangry messiah. He’s just the most recent and obnoxious false prophet. Remember Sarah Palin? Rush? Glen Beck? Father Coughlin ?(going back a ways)….and the list goes on.

But the hangry are not merely non-Democrats. Many feeling the Bern are also hangry, and snicker at those who don’t feel The Bern.

The infighting—literally, at Trump rallies—is so pathetic (and scary). I have been on a no snickers diet for the last several months: tuning out as much as possible, and disassociating with the hangry. The hunger and anger combination is too intense. It overrides the necessary dispositions for civil life and governance. It’s also hard to be creative when hangry. Solutions must be immediate and simple. The snickering at others fortifies the hangry. It fuels the appetite, but not the health.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry. Snickers satisfies.”

The Snickers candy bar slogan could not be more perfect for our current culture. In politics, the hunger for change, combined with anger and resentment and disdain for others, has become utterly toxic and stupid.

It’s easy to be angry and hunger for change. It’s easy to be disdainful of those with whom you disrespect and disagree. But we don’t have to disrespect those with whom we disagree. It’s just become so easy and acceptable. And all the snickering fuels more anger and hunger and diminishes us.

We’re not us when we’re hangry. I think I want a Twix now.

Miss Spoke

It was a YUUUGE night in little New Hampshire, after a spectacularly crazy week of words heard everywhere.

Prior to the primary primary, Madeline Albright, campaigning for Hillary Clinton in New Hampshire, declared, “There’s a special place in hell for women who don’t help each other.”

Gloria Steinem, when asked why Hillary does so poorly among younger women said, “When you’re young, you’re thinking, ‘Where are the boys? The boys are with Bernie.’ ”

HUH??

That even trumps Trump’s repetition of one of his supporter’s sentiments that Ted Cruz “is a pussy”.  Trump considered the impact of those words before quoting his supporter. He knew he wasn’t supposed to say that! Eh….what the heck….

We hold Madeline Albright and Gloria Steinem to a higher standard (and they are not contenders for POTUS).  I was cringing when I heard each of them. These are public figures who know the impact of words. They have forged not only careers, but changed the landscape through their words that inspired actions. They understand consequences–intended and unintended. They are seasoned. They have contended with difficulties and experienced breakthroughs and tremendous success. And they are merely insulting now.

I read an article about how we shouldn’t diminish Albright and Steinem based on this past week’s comments. Their long and distinguished lives and careers are testaments to their iconic statuses, and their work has been profoundly significant, not only as feminist leaders, but as principled, inclusive, democratic, encouraging women whose influence is (was) global and intergenerational.

Well, sorry….that all ended rather abruptly. Shaming women (or anyone) into voting for a particular candidate is shameful. And it is a losing strategy. Younger people are generally more attracted to idealism. In general, people want leaders who inspire. Even Bill is beginning to repeat the 2008 over-the-top attack dog bit that bit the Clintons in the behind. Hard to see how their being offensive while feeling defensive will win hearts or minds or votes.

The obvious reaction to Albright’s admonition is: REALLY??? Sarah Palin. Michelle Bachman. Carly Fiorina. Because they are women?

And Steinem….the ulitmate Feminist icon…sounding like Connie Francis: Where the Boys Are. My brain still hurts from trying to figure this out. It’s actually rather tragic. These two (3?) ladies seem so sadly out of touch with not just this generation of female voters, but with the last few decades.

And the response to the justified outrage and backlash? Steinem said that she misspoke.

No. Miss Spoke just didn’t consider that idealism is more interesting (especially to youger people) than pragmatism; that women and any other demographic group are not necessarily homogenous; and that thinking critically means evaluating beyond gender or race or generation or any other category.

Miss Spoke was not only insulting, but inaccurate. Trump’s appeal to many is that he is acutely aware of his rhetorical choices, and disregards accuracy or respect with the intention of garnering support by appealing to baser instincts and emotions.

There seems to be a different set of rules for the one who claims Miss Spoke (whichever one): we expect a different sort of discourse and program–one that appeals to our aspirations with critical thinking; our better angels and productivity. Miss Spoke needs to think and speak more broadly. And we know more than one Miss Spoke recently.

 

January Jonesing

Somehow, so many accomplishments of 2015 were forgotten in the final season, as acts of terror, violence, and hate saturated our media and our senses, and left us feeling helpless, somewhat hopeless, and terrified. And disgusted. Violence and hate seem to be not only timeless, but endless, and less and less about a moment than a terminal condition.

January, in the middle of winter, is the fresh start we always crave and celebrate. She seems barely approachable when the fall always seems to surprise us with crashes or severe storms or political upheaval (even just elections), and we think we will be settled into a new calm and yet be invigorated.

January is alluring in her cool, which we desire after tempests and the inflammation that we tend to experience with intensity by December. 2015 exited with practically unbearable inflammation— mostly The Donald’s, but also with terrorists and other horrifying violence here, there, and everywhere.

January’s attraction is undeniable. She is quiet, but seemingly purposeful. She has a quality of purity, but not innocence. She is serious and clearly intentional, seeming to know what we want. She seems so wise, yet untainted. We’ve been jonesing for her cool.

Of course, January will become icy. That’s her way. She will become indifferent and then harsh. Bitter cold. Even in warm climates, January becomes another pretty face. She may be pleasant; even lovely for a while. I just recognize her. She’s beautiful, and can be friendly—or at least mild—but her nature yields to indifference and even harshness . That’s how cool is.

She lets us make the first move. But for some, they are already frozen. That first date was ignored, other than an opportunity to chill. They are needing some warmth—not fiery passion, but a bit of warmth to be able to slowly thaw. January doesn’t really offer much warmth, but she seems rather calm and composed, especially when we first see her. Maybe her cool is warm enough, even at a low temperature, to allow the rational to take over—at least for a bit.

By the end of the year, we are jonesing for January. Our overwhelming need for calm and cool may not be sustainable, but it is necessary, and we feel it and know it. We desire her, even knowing we can’t be with her for very long. We may forget that she is the way she is, just as we forget the way we are.
January is beautiful. She attracts our best intentions and our desire for excellence and progress. Her quiet is temporary, and allows us to think, even as we are smitten by the prospect of something new with her. And although she is the way she is, and we are the way we are, causing us to part, we long for her after a year of steps and missteps; assaults and breakthrough moments. January is a vision.

You’re Welcome

Thanksgiving is weird. It’s gluttonous. For too many, the holiday is rife with family bickering and/or stress. Yet, the narrative of Thanksgiving is one of gratitude with a loving family and nature’s bounty, linked to an American origin story that suggests harmony with people of a different culture, sharing agricultural learning and exchange to achieve gastronomical delight. The religiosity of the non-native Americans is known, but the universality of gratitude distinguishes this holiday as one that can be embraced by any and all faiths. It is utterly American.

We celebrate the story. Our version highlights the ideals in theory, but the details often play out contrary to the ideals. Americans love the novel—the always new story that is tidy and lofty, that has us as the embodiment of goodness and Civilization. And we could never be so boorish as to not be grateful for all that we have been given, even when we feel like we are entitled because we stand for what is best. We don’t merely receive a bounty; we have a system that is based on the notion that more is better. We seek abundance; even demand it.

We often look down on those who do not seem to have much. Sure, we will be charitable and give to the needy, especially this time of year. But, there is a sense that abundance is not abundant; that it must always be hunted and gathered. More is more. Black Friday is the inverse of the Puritan holiday feast celebrated the day before, although the theme of gluttony (not in the original narrative) continues.

The sense of vulnerability that pervades American culture—that our precious and abundant life is at risk—is acute. In the 21st Century, terrorism has become even more global and effective and has heightened our sense of vulnerability in a way that was previously unknown to Americans. The Great Recession similarly created a sense of scarcity and risk. We are terrified of losing access to abundance and life as we know it (or knew it).

The very reasonable fears of loss due to extreme economic conditions and terrorism become magnified and take on lives of their own with the pervasiveness of media. Reasonable fears that require reasonable measures quickly devolve into panic and fear mongering.

Sure, we give thanks— at least on the last Thursday of November. But will we say, “You’re welcome.” ? Will we welcome refugees and others in need? Will we share our American bounty? Will we be welcoming to others—all the others that we can easily avoid, ignore, shun? Will we welcome change or other points of view?

The original story of Thanksgiving—of meeting the other and sharing the bounty— is the quintessential American tale. It would be more appropriate if we were more welcoming in our lives.
We can experience abundance when we are welcoming. We do have much for which to be thankful. But the magnitude is felt when we say, “You’re welcome” .

In Other Words

I’m not big on banning words, but I am pro thoughtful and considerate usage. Words, like actions, have consequences. That’s why we use them.

Before the real bloodbath of Friday the 13th in Paris four days ago, we were grappling with the sometimes conflicting necessities of racial sensitivity and free speech. For some, sensitivity means easily piqued; for others, sensitivity means the opposite— consideration, discernment, understanding, empathy. We see this different use and application of the word sensitivity much like the application of the word entitled; for some, entitled implies deserving based on qualification; for others, entitled implies someone who thinks s/he is deserving without having to do anything; spoiled.

In cases like entitlement and sensitivity, usage often falls within political party lines. It’s as though we are losing a common language. But, language does evolve, and reconsidering words and their usages reflects cultural (and sometimes personal) evolution.

It is easy to grasp the phrase “a clash of civilizations” when referring to terrorist groups who want to topple governments and seize territory through violence, distorted religion, and regression, as we have seen with the Taliban in Afghanistan, and with what we tend to call ISIS or ISIL (including more than Syria) or now the derogatorily named Daesh. Some have countered that the phrase “clash of civilizations” is hyperbolic and inaccurate because the fight is against Civilization, not against two civilizations. In other words, we dignify or dishonor depending on our word choices.

On the home front, we tend to distinguish between “politically correct” terms deemed considerate and preserving dignity, and terms that may be considered as derogatory or used to degrade or keep one outside. The recent backlashes to “politically correct” speech are sometimes motivated by discrimination, but other times, they are an effort to reclaim dignity in a new context; in effect, to show control over what was once terminology used for oppression. Others seek to acknowledge that speech is a protected right in this country and must not be silenced regardless of content.

I don’t believe that just because we have a Constitutional right to free speech, that speech is free. It is, like all freedom, embedded with responsibility, and that means consequences, intended and unintended. Our own grappling with words and phrases and how they reflect on us as a culture can get a bit messy, as we have seen many times during the last year alone, and recently on college campuses. Political rhetoric has always been with us, but we also see grassroots cultural rhetoric that seeks to dismantle some of the prevailing policies, and politics, cultural norms as well as inconsiderate behavior.

The way in which events are characterized is now mostly a matter of politics. Our task is to be aware of rhetoric. How words are used reflects and fosters dispositions. Even the word rhetoric, which refers to the way with words, can be defined as eloquence or as bombast; persuasion or lacking in sincerity or meaningful content. Politicization of events occurs through rhetoric—through word usage intended to persuade, either with eloquence or bombast.

The politicization of deaths to due terrorism and other violence seems to have the effect of dividing rather than uniting us in mission, which halts progress.
What should be done with so many Syrians fleeing Syria? We debate whether we should call them migrants or refugees. Refugees are those who flee their country in order to escape war, persecution, or natural disaster. However, for the politicians who fear terrorists entering our borders (not an unreasonable fear), they can state their position as not wanting to give refuge to terrorists, thereby conflating refugees with giving refuge to terrorists. And migrants? I don’t remember hearing that term before recently to describe those fleeing persecution. The politicization of the word refugee has created the current use of migrant as an alternative to refer to those seeking refuge from war and persecution.
I started by saying that I don’t generally believe in banning words, but I am in favor of thoughtful and considerate usage. The manhunt for the so-called “mastermind” of the recent Paris attacks is one case in which I think it’s time to abandon the term “mastermind” when used to describe perpetrators of violence against innocent people. We often use it with an invisible or silent “evil” preceding the word mastermind. The title “Mastermind” aggrandizes those who conceive of methods to kill innocent people. Life takes much more mastery than killing innocent people and inspiring fear. This guy may have been the chief organizer and strategist, but why dignify the monster with a title that should be reserved for those whose intelligence produces that which is constructive and life affirming?

We tend to denigrate honest, hardworking, patriotic people who may have different opinions, but we aggrandize and empower the real troublemakers, criminals and monsters, especially when we foment fear. In other words, we can consider or ignore; dignify or dishonor; empower or degrade. Words, like actions, have power and consequences. Use them wisely.

Old Faithful

Apparently, although not visibly, Americans are moving away from religion. The new, new silent majority (well, growing minority) are the irreligious millennials. This seems contrary to everything one can possibly consume through media channels. The common experience of America is that America is driven by religiosity, and that religious freedom is the most important Constitutional Right, next to the Second Amendment—the one about a well regulated militia . In fact, for many religious Americans, the first two amendments to the Constitution are the Constitution, and therefore, America.

But back to religiosity. Religion, as defined as “a particular system of faith and worship”, is on the decline among millennials. The Pew Research Center’s survey focused on Americans’ religious beliefs and practices. Essentially, the numbers suggest polarization along religious lines may be increasing in the United States. Although the percentage of Americans who responded that they are unaffiliated with any religious tradition is growing, those who identify with a religion are becoming more devout. The political implications are apparent.

The disaffection with formal religious institutions among millennials is not the same as lack of spirituality or morality. The survey explored traditional religious practices in association with traditional religious institutions.

I suspect that for those for whom faith in a deity and in an organized religion, the religious institution is a source of community and structure, rules and regulations, charity and ideals. For those for whom faith is not found in religious structures or descriptions, they may still seek a spiritual life (or not), and still seek community and morality, humanitarian causes and social justice, rules and regulations, charity and ideals. But it’s hard to have faith in institutions these days.

That’s what unites these two seemingly disparate (and desperate) states of America: The lack of faith in institutions seems to be pervasive. For some, there is faith in religious institutions and not in government; for others, there is faith (although perhaps dissatisfaction) in governmental and social institutions, and not in religious ones.
Faith is elusive when seeing evidence of the contrary. It’s hard to have faith in a person or institution when one’s belief is seemingly contradicted. Cops killing unarmed suspects, makes it hard to have faith in police. Daily shootings, often seemingly random, makes it hard to have faith in our gun laws. Schools dictated by tests, and colleges bankrupting young adults and families make it hard to have faith in education. People who are so anti-government they are willing to do anything to gain power to obstruct the government, make it hard to have faith in our institutions or in people. Knowing how much it takes to live a middle class life, much less leave a legacy, makes it very difficult to have faith in our economic system, or in our future.

Faith is future oriented, based on our feelings in the present. Ironically, it is history that can provide us the comfort necessary for faith. It is an accurate understanding of the unfolding of history, not as an ideological story, but more of a scientific and evolutionary approach to understanding circumstances and their impacts. It is not a predictor, and differences between historical moments are important to acknowledge. But we have seen religious eras, and progressive eras; chaotic times when violence was rampant and government was flailing. We’ve seen threatening times, and war too many times. And what seems unique now, has parallels.

I have faith in evolution. Sometimes I forget that we can evolve personally, because the evidence is often so contrary to my belief. Likewise, it’s easy to lose faith in our institutions, because we seem so stuck, and we confuse images and stories with knowledge,and we are often unwise. It’s difficult to see evolution, especially when we are overwhelmed by replays of old conflicts  with current unenlightened players. I don’t know the significance of the study on Americans and religion. It’s always evolving. We will continue to evolve. On that, I guess you can count me among the faithful.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

Kevin McCarthy will forever be known as the competent, upstanding guy who realized that the population in his community was being taken over one by one.

Kevin McCarthy was the actor best known for the 1956 sci-fi horror flick (and political allegory) “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”. Representative Kevin McCarthy, House Majority leader in 2015, and presumptive Speaker of the House following Speaker John Boehner’s recent announcement of his retirement, abruptly dropped out of the race (practically uncontested) for the Speakership. One minute he’s practically Speaker; the next– he’s out, throwing the GOP into chaos.

The dissatisfactions with our culture get played out in our Body Politic; in this case, the political body that everyone detests, Congress. Regardless of political party affiliation, there is utter distrust and fear of the other, and the sense that the other is snatching away our culture and our future.

Those who are elected to set national policies emerge from local cultures that have geographical and demographical distinctions that no longer serve to broaden our thinking and experience, but in fact, narrow them. The 21st Century sense that compromise is weakness, has taken hold and has rendered governing a lost art. John Boehner saw this, and had had enough. Kevin McCarthy the Congressman saw this before he even started.

Kevin McCarthy the not-actor and not-Speaker may have realized that his “gaffe” last week regarding the Benghazi Select Committee, (and therefore Hillary Clinton), may have been rather damaging. He suggested that the Benghazi Select Committee is really only concerned with partisan politics. The truth hurts. Or it can set you free.

It’s hard not to think of the original Kevin McCarthy and the “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”. He was that competent, upstanding guy who realized that the population in his community was being taken over one by one. Is this life imitating art? The film seemed artier as more time passed and the “McCarthy Era”, i.e. McCarthyism (Senator Joseph McCarthy), seemed like a historical relic. Alas, we see these same tactics of making accusations without proper regard for evidence in today’s Body Politic, from the Retropublicans. We’ve also seen the definition of McCarthyism “the practice of making unfair allegations or using unfair investigative techniques, especially in order to restrict dissent or political criticism.”
Representative Jason Chaffetz, exemplified these (Joseph) McCarthy techniques with his so-called hearing on the (doctored) Planned Parent videos. He is still running for Speaker of the House. I’m getting very queasy watching this version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

Pope and Change

No, that’s not a typo. And yes, it does sound familiar.

I have been thinking about this Pope’s compassion. His willingness to pastor to those whom others have sought to ignore or even vilify, has been a welcome change. The institution of the papacy has not changed, although there is a growing movement to break down old,seemingly sacred barriers to include people who have been previously excluded, and to actually reform what has given cover to corruption and abuse. The change that the world is witnessing with Pope Francis, is one of greater compassion, caring, and reverence for actual life, not merely theoretical life, including sustaining our environment and taking action to mitigate climate change.

Many mock “Hope and Change” as a bumper sticker for the presidential race of ’08, and site everything that has challenged their beliefs or seemed wrong, or was difficult and incomplete, and even worse in some respects, as evidence that hope and change was a hoax. We must remember the reality of hope: Hope is not a solution. It is a spark.

Hope may evoke an ideal, and even ideas of change, but the words and deeds produced out of that hope are indeed seeds of change. Fear may also evoke an ideal, albeit a negative one— a hazard. The energy of fear often produces extreme speech and rigid responses. It limits possibilities in order to confirm a conviction of threat.

It is easy to feel despair and point to all that is wrong to confirm the hopeless conviction. It is difficult to create change in the space of despair. Resignation eliminates possibility. Moreover, it is easy for fear to take over, and fear has an energy that can overwhelm us, limiting possibility, or unleashing repressive or aggressive speech and/or actions.

For  many, this week is holy. For others, it may be a highly ritualized few days. Regardless of religious interpretations, this Pope’s visit is at once specific to a tradition and inclusive of those beyond that specific tradition. For those who observe the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year in Jewish tradition, forgiveness of oneself and others is the primary concern. Atonement is practiced both privately and among the community. There is hope for change (for the better) after acknowledging wrongdoings—intentional or unintentional—and seeking to repair that which was broken.

Of course, at -one- ment, that experience of unity, is fleeting. After the blessings and the rituals and the speeches and the excitement have passed, whether it’s the Pope or the President, or the candidate, or the pundit, or the teacher, or the tweeter, or any other revered or merely popular figure, it’s our own words and deeds that require regular attention, and a willingness to not say and /or do what we’ve always done.

I am curious to hear the Pope as he visits the U.S. for his first time. Although I am not Catholic, I welcome wisdom and compassion and the cultivation of peace through peace. So many Americans of so many different religious traditions find him to be a welcome change and an inspiration. We do not have to have been raised in the same institutions or culture or religious faith to be inspired and educated and glean wisdom. We can welcome the Pope, and change.

Comparative Imperative: Remembering Versus Never Forgetting

For the last 14 years, so many people mark this date with their stories of where they were. Of course I remember where I was, but that is not what I think about or what matters. So much has happened in these 14 years that has changed us and changed me. The groundlessness that we all seemed to feel that day and for weeks following, was daunting. The trauma, even for those who just watched, was disconcerting, and fear and anxiety quickly filled those spaces where safety and security once grounded us. The shared trauma was briefly unifying, but we were blown apart that day.

In 14 years, there have been several crises and horrors and unstable conditions that have made the new normal feel anything but normal. We have been crippled by terrorism, by extreme storms, incompetent responses, economic disaster, and those fixated on hate and violence, as well as righteousness at the expense of others. We have neglected our first responders, our veterans, our indigent, our children, their schools, those who look different, act different, or sound different. We became fixated on images—even images of ourselves, more than the possibility of ourselves.

The #NeverForget is everywhere. I noticed that I have a bit of a resistance to this imperative. It’s a negative imperative. It’s not that it’s incorrect, or that the postings of the photos of the fireball that was the impact at the World Trade center are not appropriate. It’s the fixation on the horror that feeds our negative emotions and responses that I want to shift.

I want to remember. I want everyone to remember. The conjuring of the past is not really different. It’s the focus that needs to shift. I don’t want to whitewash the horror that was 9/11. I just don’t want to cling to a moment that was impossible to comprehend or digest, and suggest that that’s all we should consider. When those planes crashed in NY, DC and in Pennsylvania, we were horrified and also saddened. We lost so many, and we could feel for those whom we never met. We had a connection, albeit in terror.

When I see images of a recent rainbow over Manhattan, I feel the anguish of this day, and recall the horror, but my heart doesn’t constrict with fear, anxiety, or hate. I actually feel love. Love for NY; love for the promise and potential of this country despite so much that seems contrary at present, and for much that I get to enjoy each day here. When I see the images of the 9/11 Tribute lights at Ground Zero that have been illuminating the night sky on this tragic anniversary since 2002, I recall the horror, but am moved by the beauty in it’s place.

The #NeverForget seems to me to have us return to terror and the natural feelings of fear, anxiety and revenge that well up. I certainly can’t forget that horrifying day and the weeks that ensued, and even the months and years of threats and security precautions that elevated my own sense of foreboding. But that negative imperative bothers me. I prefer to remember—to consider the events that occurred, and the (positive) possibilities that can occur. I can’t live clinging to the negative. I must include the negative, as that is so much of life and certainly of the memory of this day. But clinging to the negative doesn’t move us forward.

The memory of this day may be painful, but the imperative can’t be negative. When we cling to our fears and operate from a place of fear, rather than include fear, we become more limited—the opposite of free. We remember not just where we were, or how we were, but we remember other people and lives and possibilities. We honor their memory with life and light. Our imperative is life affirming .

Oliver!

You’ve probably read and heard umpteen remembrances of Dr. Oliver Sacks by now, and it’s only a day after his passing. The groundswell of mourning, even among those of us who never saw him in person, is a testament to his gifts. He was not only a scientist and physician of neurology, but passionate and compassionate, eager and humble, healer and patient, patient and restless, a seeker of knowledge and a friend to humanity. He embodied what so many of us wish we could.

Toward the end of his fascinating life, he shared many of his own personal experiences. He expressed his scientific explorations as well as human sensations, and as we got to know his work (about his patients), he began to express his own unusualness. Despite his expertise and stature, his later writings made him all the more human, and relatable. He reminded us that we may not even know that people may experience the world differently in some capacities than we do.

His fascination with so many facets of the natural world, particularly of the brain, was expressed with such enthusiasm and joy that it was contagious. We mourn the loss of such joy and knowledge. The world needs more knowledge and joy, not less.

It was with his sense of joy and pursuit of knowledge that he came to explore neurological conditions, and with his magnificent gift for prose, to express his clinical experiences (and later, his personal experiences) to a lay audience, while educating our hearts and minds. It was not that the extraordinary would seem ordinary, but that we could be introduced to experiences and conditions seemingly far from our own, and feel the humanity and compassion for an other. The bizarre was no longer hidden, but “awakened” for us.

We may be blessed enough to not have such neurological disorders in our lives, or we may recognize that disorders may arise in some other fashion in our lives. We may be caregivers or incapacitated ourselves at some other time. The introduction to that which is so different from our experience thus far, has far reaching implications.

We have seen social changes that were unthinkable two generations ago. What is considered bizarre, changes. How we include and care for those who struggle to function says much about us. Many struggle much more than we may realize. The “bizarre” may be hidden—at least temporarily. Or, the bizarre may burst forth and we must learn to pursue knowledge over fear.

Easier said than done, of course, but Dr. Sacks, gently and brilliantly had us become acquainted with not only neurological disorders and personal distresses, but took us into the world beyond our own. Ultimately, it’s all our world. Nature has so many facets to explore and from which to learn that may, in turn, increase our ability to impact other conditions. The more knowledge we can acquire about the natural world and make connections, the more we can affect positive change.

Dr Oliver Sacks seemed as unique as his case studies, but for many different reasons. Ultimately though, even his case studies and his personal seemingly unconventional experiences, were oh-so- human. Oliver! Consider yourself one of us!

And that’s the precious part. He was a gifted doctor and writer and educator, who relentlessly pursued knowledge and shared his joy and knowledge. He was generous of spirit and through his sharing, connected not just ideas, but souls. I may only wish I had his prodigious gifts of heart and mind—those that seem to separate the extraordinary from the ordinary, but despite those differences, like the differences he wrote about, we’re all facets of nature. Truly extraordinary.