Under the Green Desk Lamp…
Upon the boughs,
The hoarfrost melts,
The sign of a new season.
One I pray,
Will be filled,
With love, wonder and reason.
The snow degrades,
The ice it fades,
To show the rot below.
This too decays,
And passes away,
To let the new grass grow.
-Brad OH Inc.
Under the Green Desk Lamp…
In the great old stories, it’s never hard to spot the source of evil. It may be a winged beast, or a black rider, or a simple, unblazoned ring sitting on a table, just waiting to change the world…
In reality, however, it’s rarely so easy. Evil may take many guises, and come from any direction. Is evil inherent to humanity? Can it ever be prevented?
Education, equal opportunity and the provision of basic needs and human rights is the most obvious answer, for by removing the greatest temptations towards desperate actions, we are most likely to see them decrease. Yet there seems to be an evil in this world which pervades and permeates even the best intentions. It sprouts up no matter what we do. It finds the cracks, or makes them, and it’s dark blossom unfolds often where it is looked for the least.
Traditionally, there are two ends of the polarity in response. One is to be jaded and fearful, rejecting everything different lest it bring evil in with it. This may prevent the terror from without, but it transforms the hearts of people, and creates hatred and evil within.
The other side would be unending faith in the goodness of human kind, sometimes to the open denial of the gathering clouds. This is idealistic, and often this school of thought is quickly met by the bitter reminder that in the end, best intentions cannot ward off evil acts.
We cannot be too careful, or too careless. Vigilance is the price of peace, and those who would deny the presence of evil may soon suffer its harsh truth.
Alas that we do not have a ring to focus on and destroy. Evil is a more insidious thing than that, manifested most often in the sins of pride, greed, and avarice—the strongest motivators of human vice. We cannot see it, nor cast it into the volcano to banish it forever.
Yet the discerning heart can feel it grow. Where will it strike? None can say.
Still, if you pay attention, you can feel the tension in the air, smell the fresh tinders and see the sparks dancing against the black night sky. Old threats and bedtime stories are alive again. Evil grows…now is the time for heroes.
-Brad OH Inc.
Under the Green Desk Lamp…
The following post is part of ‘The Evocation Series’. Click Here for more information about the project, and to learn how to get involved yourself!
The mind can be a sanctuary at times, especially when the world outside seems a dark and unwelcoming void. But like many sanctuaries, its isolation can also be suffocation, and its secrets are strange and surprising even to its own inhabitant.
It’s a terrifying balance to strike—between the darkness without and the cold serenity within. We all feel like that sometimes, and though it is an experience shared by most everyone, this makes it no less horrifying.
Check ignition,
and may God’s love be with you.
It’s no easy task—to turn away from the chaos of the world without and face instead the calamity within. To surrender to our own uncertainty has been described as both a depressing submission and an inspiring act of faith or self-realization. Of course, neither perspective makes the deed any easier.
But to tread this line with grace is a most worthy endeavour. Despite the tribulations of the waking world, it is a thing we all must brave. But to do so with vigour and agency, we must also master our inner selves. It’s a fine line to be sure, but the potential payoff is well worth the venture.
I’m floating in a most peculiar way,
And the stars look very different today.
It’s a rare and wonderful thing when it’s pulled off just right. To equally know ourselves and our reality is a path tread most often by the shamans and philosophers of the world. For the rest of us, we can hope, at the least, to understand some small part of it before we go.
Darkness is as unavoidable as light, its counterpart—and it is just such a truth which might illuminate the greater realities of the world…the connections which exist within, but which can be understood only in moments of rapture, or surrender.
Planet Earth is blue,
And there’s nothing I can do.
We all die alone, and to face this is the truest challenge and most necessary condition of being alive. Feeling hopeless, but finding contentment in that? Sometimes, there is nothing more liberating than to acknowledge our own powerlessness.
-Brad OH Inc.
Under the Green Desk Lamp…
Sometimes, I like to think about society as a simple tribal village. It strips the world of its artifice, and takes us back to human-kind at it’s most basic. Raw and primitive. Simple.
And that’s exactly what many issues are from this perspective: Simple.
Without the nuance of modern day polarities, we can see things a bit more clearly. The significant moral leaps people manage to self-justify may be laid bare by a more straight-forward allegorical perspective.
For instance, we can easily agree that freedom is a virtue to be celebrated—but, not total freedom. Let’s explore that with an example. Imagine you are lying asleep on your dirt floor, above you nothing but the countless stars of the prehistoric night sky. You’re covered with a torn animal hide, and lay near enough the dying embers of the night’s fire to provide sufficient protection from the chill of night. In this scenario, you would certainly not want your neighbour to have the freedom to creep up as you slept and take a rock to your head just to obtain that crappy lion skin you call a bed.
Would you?
Most of us don’t need a cave man metaphor to get behind the basic idea of laws, no doubt. Shame on you that did.
But not everything is quite that clear, and the complexities of modern society make it far more difficult to discern the moral imperatives beneath the daily milieu. How do we suss out the decent path in something as complex as corporate economics, or systemic injustice?
Well, let’s imagine that for a moment. Take that same sleepy village of knuckle-dragging cave-people. Say that, as you sleep, one of the villagers has the initiative to wake up early, and gather up all the useful plants anywhere near your hut. Then he breaks your legs so you can’t gather the far away plants. Finally, he generously offers to sell you some of his extra plants in exchange for your wife and children.
You see, at some point, a free market which is free to extort and dominate no longer looks very much like freedom at all when you really boil things down.
Taking this analogy a bit further, we might ask: Just what do we want for our fellow savage villagers? Well, at first glance they don’t seem like an overly pleasant lot. They’re brutish and violent, and certainly don’t seem very smart.
I suppose that education would be a good place to start then.
Ensuring health and security is likely to make them less desperate and prone to violence of course, and some laws to protect from exploitation or economic coercion certainly seem sound.
But we don’t live in a village anymore, we live on a planet. And it would seem, somehow, that there is a disappointing lack of people who truly want any of those things for their neighbour. So then, what does this portend for our coming sleep beneath those countless stars?
The lion skin frays. The embers sputter and smoke.
…The night grows dark.
-Brad OH Inc.
Under the Green Desk Lamp…
The following post is part of ‘The Evocation Series’. Click Here for more information about the project, and how to get involved yourself!
Bruce Springsteen- ‘The Ghost of Tom Joad’
I started this blog in 2012, over five years ago now. At the time, I had several reasons for doing so—the undeniable trendiness of blogs in 2012 notwithstanding. First, I wanted to hone and perfect my craft, and weekly writing was good for that. Second, I wanted to establish some online presence to support my nascent writing career. The third goal was a bit less humble than the others. I wanted to change the world.
Well, there can be no doubt about it, the world has changed indeed. Even as I and many other have done our best to warn the masses of old fears and new disasters alike, the course of history has turned about once more, and again we flirt with the tired mistakes of the past.
‘The highway is alive tonight,
But nobody’s kiddin’ nobody about where it goes.’
‘Fight the good fight’, that’s what they tell you. It falls upon every man and woman to live as the model they want for the world; to call out injustice from the dark corners it hides and to uproot hatred wherever it takes seed.
A better world has been the outstanding promise we have all waited for. From the cradle to the grave, we’ve heard the stories of good prevailing, and the reward of the righteous. No good actions are ever done for hope of reward to be sure, and yet as time draws on and the hold of decency wavers on a razor’s edge, hope itself begins to diminish.
‘Waitin’ for when the last shall be first and the first shall be last,
In a cardboard box ‘neath the underpass.
Got a one-way ticket to the promised land,
You got a hole in your belly and gun in your hand.’
It’s easy to begin wondering what it’s all for. One might close their eyes for just a moment, and find the world has grown so dim that to open them again makes little difference. It’s easy to get lost, to doubt, and to fear.
This must never stand. For the final death-knell of decency will surely be when the last decent person loses their will to fight. When common concessions like ‘good-enough’ or ‘the lesser of two evils’ become acceptable mantras for those capable of dreaming bigger and better.
‘Now Tom said, “Mom, wherever there’s a cop beatin’ a guy,
Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries.
Where there’s a fight ‘gainst the blood and hatred in the air,
Look for me Mom I’ll be there.
Wherever there’s somebody fightin’ for a place to stand,
Or decent job or a helpin’ hand.
Wherever somebody’s strugglin’ to be free,
Look in their eyes Mom you’ll see me.”’
We are what we are. Further, we are when we are, and where we are. The why of it is irrelevant—we must only serve as we are able.
-Brad OH Inc.
Under the Green Desk Lamp…
The following post is part of ‘The Evocation Series’. Click Here for more information about the project, and how to get involved yourself!
’On my little bed I lie, heavenly father hear my cry…’
I used to recite the words as a child. I’d say them all in their proper order, send the requisite blessings to my family and loved ones, then toss in any other things I might want hand-delivered by the most gracious of deities. I thought I was pretty good at prayer.
These days, I begin to wonder.
Looking around, I think of all the things I might now pray for. Gone is the lust for material goods, and dwindling the desire for fame and fortune. As I lay me down to sleep now, I might pray for greater understanding in the world, for peace and love among humanity. Then I open my eyes and look around, and the comfort of prayer is replaced by the tremulous perception of a cold and wayward reality.
‘Always pain before a child is born.’
Daily I might weep for the lost surety of childhood, when light seemed certain to triumph. But these days are dim, and hope flickers like a candle suffocating on its own excess.
‘Still I’m waiting for the dawn.’
But I no longer feel that prayer is about asking, so perhaps I had it all wrong from the get go. If there is room to improve, it must start within, and no man can hope to change the world without first changing himself. Here, there is much that I could ask.
‘Take this mouth,
So quick to criticize.
Take this mouth,
Give it a kiss.’
So again I lay me down. I close my eyes, and wonder what to say. What can be asked at this point, for myself, for the world? Foolish is he who looks for such answers. The great people and moments that have changed the world have often come when least expected yet most needed. Grace, I suppose, is not a thing to calculate, but rather to be thankful for, and to never forget.
‘This love is like a drop in the ocean.’
I still have a lot to learn.
-Brad OH Inc.
Under the Green Desk Lamp…
The following post is part of ‘The Evocation Series’. Click Here for more information about the project, and how to get involved yourself!
Bruce Springsteen- ‘This is Your Sword’
I can still feel the warmth—curled up in the nook of her leg on that old flower-upholstered couch. So too can I recall the sound of his voice as he read page after page—taking me out into that road and off toward all the adventure and wonder to follow.
I heard of elves and men, dragons and orcs. Tales of courage and valor in the face of great odds, and of the importance of doing what is right, no matter how insignificant you may feel in the grand scheme of things.
We are all important, and we can all serve our role in making the world a better place.
…this is your Sword.
They would work together in the telling, and I would sit silent in rapture—broken only on occasion to ask some question or demand some clarification.
I learned about fellowships and faith, family and friends—about hope in the face of doubt, and love in spite of loss. I remember sitting wide-eyed as mercy and kindness prevailed over cruelty and despair.
I remember deciding that they truly could.
…this is your Shield.
‘The times they are dark, darkness covers the earth
But this world’s filled with the beauty of God’s work
Hold tight to your promise, stay righteous, stay strong
For the days of miracles will come along…’
…I still remember.
-Brad OH Inc.
Under the Green Desk Lamp…
A Ghost Poem:
I’m haunted still by visions past,
By ghostly wails and die long cast.
Porcelain smiles and ochre eyes,
Find me much to my surprise.
Sleeping, thinking, lost in mind,
I’m stalked by those I’ve left behind.
A ghostly whisper comes to me,
As I search for serenity.
There is no rest, no sure reprieve,
From the specters I believe.
A curling grin, a twisted brow,
An implacable stretch from then to now.
I toss and turn upon my bed,
These memories searing through my head.
I rise aloft and cross the floor,
A grinning vision at the door.
A flickering vestige of all I had,
To have and lose and then grow mad.
But ever smiling, turns away,
A promise that nothing untrue may stay.
Alone I stand on the edge of dream,
The perfect start to Halloween.
-Brad OH Inc.
‘Freedom’.
It has been the go-to battle-cry for every side in most any debate. It’s a trump card to call upon when logic fails—a tacit threat laid down gauntlet-like in order to challenge the values of an opponent when one cannot intelligently defend their own.
Right-wingers, left-wingers, libertarians, economists, racists and fanatics—all will appeal to the defense of their freedom when all else fails.
Fools, one and all.
We explored the topic of freedom recently in our article ‘Libertarians are Starry-Eyed Idealists’ (Link). At that time, we talked about the definition of freedom, and the counter-productive and false narrative of ‘unlimited freedom’. Today, we will explore our assumptions about the realities of freedom in two of the places it is most ubiquitously championed: the market, and the media.
‘The Free Market’. You can just feel your heart swell at the very mention of it. It’s like a unicorn in that way. That way—and that it’s entirely imaginary. The model of a free market describes a situation in which all can compete to buy and sell goods at the best possible prices. Products compete against each other as well—with the greatest value winning out in the hearts of consumers. It allows for flourishing competition, and inspires the best from all who participate.
It’s a wonderful dream, but little more at this point. The markets we have now are not free in any defensible sense—they are controlled by enormous corporations who funnel money upwards to their owners at the expense of affordability, quality, and consumer safety.
They are far too big to ‘compete’ against any tiny upstart with a head full of decency and common sense. They buy and sell market rights, strangle out competition, and throw down patents as defensive bolsters against growth and ease of access. There is no freedom or competition—only the surreptitious motives of greed and dominance. Prices for medications are needlessly inflated, housing markets are intentionally crashed, banks prey on the ill-informed, and corporations use their power to change laws in their favour and dodge enough taxes to wildly improve the state of the nation for all. The rich get richer, the poor stay in servitude.
So much for a free market then.
So how about the media? Surely this bastion of free knowledge, this fountain of informed citizenry has some tangible claim to freedom?
Sadly, not so.
As discussed in Sheldon Wolin’s (Link) impeccable book ‘Democracy Incorporated’, the media has followed a similar trend to the market.
In the past, ideas functioned much as they did in a truly ‘free’ marketplace. Many ideas were circulated, and the ‘best’ (as defined by open and informed discussion) became the most ubiquitous and popular. But in a world where media messages are controlled by the same mega-corporations which control our markets, the corporations are the ‘sellers’ of ideas, and we the consumers can only choose from the prescribed ideas they are willing to sell us—just like the current marketplace.
We see it everywhere—from the crooked nature of the 2 party political system, to the subversion of dissent via thousands of media companies being owned by only 6 corporations (Source). It is the death knell of free-thought. Ideas and options—from what laundry soap to buy to who to vote for in a general election—all fall within the pre-defined scope chosen by the corporations which have seized control of our marketplaces, our media, and our political system.
These multi-national corporations are the sole, uniquely ‘free’ participants in our society, and use this to put constraints on every system they see fit. Each of these effects the other—we are less informed (thus less able to vote), and more desperate (thus more eager to spend).
It all falls together quite nicely—it’s an effective market, even if it’s a far cry from free.
In book two of ‘The Analects’ (Link), Confucius speaks about rightful duty in governing people—stating that only a government which promotes and models good conduct and duty can ever expect to have loyal citizens. Surely, our current government can boast of having none of these.
We are left to fend for ourselves against powerful parties that would see us starve if it served to increase their bankrolls. Governments and corporations have merged—and the leadership of the people is no longer administered by informed citizens with nobles intentions, but rather by the whim of the rich and powerful—motivated only to increase those traits at all costs.
This must be remedied.
Freedom can only come when the people of the world take back the power which has been denied to them. To put in place good and honest leaders who seek the betterment of society as a whole is the only means of fighting back. We need not greed, but charity. Not a hunger for power, but a love of peace. Not clever deals, but honest intentions.
Then, and only then, can we hope to call ourselves free.
-Brad OH Inc.
Under the Green Desk Lamp…
Perhaps it’s not quite as classy as Bourbons by the Fire (Link), but no one will catch the callback anyway. Besides, this isn’t the time for pomp and flair.
For the last year I’ve been in a sort of fugue state—drifting listlessly, waiting for my sense of purpose to descend upon me from on high. It hasn’t happened yet. But here I am. I’ve awoken to find the world a bit darker. The moment for high-minded philosophies is now past us.
To a man, we seem to focus on the lies of the next—we have no time for our own misunderstandings. It’s a bitter march, but we press onward—focussed only on the failings of the other.
Our options have dwindled, our reason hangs by a thread, and the only choice we have left to us is which of two futures we want the least.
These days, we have the greatest and easiest means of communication the world has ever known. We can pass information across the globe in the blink of an eye, and connect with like-minded strangers at the click of a button. Yet we squander this—debating the inane and pressing the irrelevant. The pawns squabble amongst themselves as the King stands exposed.
Piece by piece, we give away what we should hold the tightest. We do so willingly—with the unrestrained vigour of those possessed by a sense of righteousness, yet blinded by a cloud of distrust.
The fire crackles in front of me, as it always has. We’ve been sitting around such fires since before we were us, and likely debating these same sorry shortcomings. They’ve always been with us…the doubt and fear and self-loathing that drives a society to turn in upon itself for fear of what is beyond.
The beer is still cold, but it offers little comfort.
I think about what it might take, to turn this course around—what it might look like to see the world as hopeful and promising once again. The innocence of youth is unattainable now, and knowledge is easier gained than forgotten. I settle for another swig of beer.
I keep telling myself there is plenty of room on at the fire. If not, you can always build it bigger and back the chairs up. There is always plenty of beer. But the mood grows uneasy, and we’re all suspicious of each new guest.
I’d been told that the world was rich, and could provide for all through the bounty of human cooperation. It turned out no one really believed that. Worse, perhaps they do, but simply choose something else.
Greed—it is a sorry bonfire indeed when one man claims all the beer for himself. So what does it say about a world where we hoard our own and let the extra rot—we cling miser-like to our entitled notions, then act appalled with the bitterness of the hated ‘other’.
Surely the way is clear enough, and the rest is all just fanciful distraction. The answer has always been the same—we say it in songs and debates and prayers and art, we define ourselves by our commitment to it, yet live daily as if it were but a child’s dream—silly and irreverent.
The fire is warm enough for all, yet it leaves only ashes behind. If you stare into it long enough, you can lose sight of all the rest. The darkness beyond vanishes into black, and the world is nothing if not the fire before you; your current comfort—your own personal salvation.
Damn the rest.
Fuel, fire, and beer. Security, comfort, and distraction. They’re all you need.
I take another long swallow. Then another. The beer is getting warmer, and has grown flat. Still, it does its job—soothing my nerves and steadying my shaken will.
The fire spreads slowly out around its base—cleansing the old, consuming everything in its path.
It’s a twisted scene to be sure, and it is no difficult thing to become lost in the mire and confusion as lies spill from every side. It is a hard thing to act decisively when inundated with doubt, and we all sit around this fire, blinded by its light and shackled to its fleeting warmth.
Those we look to for safety have turned on us, and those from whom we would seek direction have failed. On every side, we are constrained by justifiable fear, and this alone is often sufficient to breed the inaction necessary for such a terrible course to hold true.
My beer is running low, and the fire dwindling to embers. The cold of night encroaches upon my refuge, and I let the can fall from my hand. There is no more comfort here.
Tonight, the retreat is over. Tomorrow the fire burns anew. Will it serve only to ward off the chill of the outside world, or will it rather set ablaze all which can no longer stand? Will it burn away the fear and doubts which hold us in thrall? Will it set to light upon the tinders of decency and virtue which still smoulder in the hearts and minds of all decent people?
Tomorrow alone will tell. I will be there, beer in hand. I will be ready.
-Brad OH Inc.
Writing, Coffee and Contemplations
Joseph Halden
Brad OH Inc. is the official website and blog of Brad Oates, author of ‘Edgar’s Worst Sunday’ and 'Meaning Less'.
Thoughts on history, books, and life
Brad OH Inc. is the official website and blog of Brad Oates, author of ‘Edgar’s Worst Sunday’ and 'Meaning Less'.
Brad OH Inc. is the official website and blog of Brad Oates, author of ‘Edgar’s Worst Sunday’ and 'Meaning Less'.
Brad OH Inc. is the official website and blog of Brad Oates, author of ‘Edgar’s Worst Sunday’ and 'Meaning Less'.
The thinking man's bullshit.
Brad OH Inc. is the official website and blog of Brad Oates, author of ‘Edgar’s Worst Sunday’ and 'Meaning Less'.
Brad OH Inc. is the official website and blog of Brad Oates, author of ‘Edgar’s Worst Sunday’ and 'Meaning Less'.
Brad OH Inc. is the official website and blog of Brad Oates, author of ‘Edgar’s Worst Sunday’ and 'Meaning Less'.
Brad OH Inc. 