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2007 through the retrospectroscope
Since the dawn of time, people have posted end-of-year retrospectives on their blogs. More often than not, they do so in the last few days of December, and this year is no exception.
I’m having a bit of trouble with mine. I’m not sure exactly what I think about 2007.
I mean it’s clear that aside from the good parts, 2007 sucked.
There were some good parts. Some of the good parts were very good. You folks, for instance. You’ve been a very good good part of 2007. And I can say that without fear of inaccuracy, because another good part of 2007 was that I carefully and meticulously ran off all of CRN’s ungood readers.
Some of the good things about 2007 didn’t seem like good things about 2007 at first. I learned a few things about myself that I didn’t want to learn. Over at Theriomorph’s — and meeting T’morph was enough of a good thing almost to justify having had a 2007 in the first place — she’s got a typically good post (just under her 2007 retrospectacle post) that starts out this way:
In general, I stay away from the blogs where general rudeness and vicious wars are modeled, tolerated, and actively encouraged. I don’t believe clever vitriol helps us. It also just smacks of privilege, this often-juvenile leisure to immerse full time in theoretic bickering, quick-tongued grudge-matches, and glorified bullying.
Learning this year that I agree with the above was one of those good things that didn’t seem that way at first. The thing about clever vitriol, I learned this year, is that most of the people who applaud you for it are applauding the vitriol rather than the clever. In the meantime the acid corrodes the container, which is to say us. Or me, anyway. Learning this lesson was tough. I had to walk away from friendships to do it. And it didn’t help matters that lots of people respond to quiet, gentle observations with which they disagree by hurling beakers full of acid. But I think learning that lesson might have saved my soul.
Also? In 2007? I learned I don’t have a soul. It was a bit startling, but man, once I got used to the idea? What a relief.
Good things that happened in 2007 also include Sylvia coming back to blogging, BlackAmazon ducking into a phone booth and coming out in her secret identity as Sydette, and ilyka coming back to blogging. I got to know Nez a little better. I had good email, phone, blog-comment-thread or real-life conversations with friends online and otherwise, human and otherwise. I learned how to grow Venus fly traps without killing them, and pitcher plants. I put in an herb garden. I went backpacking for the first time in years. I saw Crater Lake once and Mono Lake twice. I ate some cookies with cranberries in them. I saw Indra swallowtails by the dozen in the Mojave outback, laying single jade-colored eggs on the stems of indigo bush. I saw attacked ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I had the readers of my blog show astonishing and generous support for my long-overdue book. I worked a couple days a week with my pal Tim. I got a grant proposal submitted.
That’s all good stuff.
Still.
Somewhere, I don’t remember exactly where, I came across a link to Melvin Jules Bukiet’s fantastic essay in the Autumn 2007 The American Scholar, in which Bukiet gleefully dismantles naif-optimistic writing in the Sebold-Eggers-Foer vein, saying (among other things):
Unfortunately, it’s false to all human experience to find “growth” in tragedy. In fact, the dull truth is that pain is tautological. The only thing suffering teaches us is that we are capable of suffering.
When I consider blog posts of a more autobiographical nature, sometimes it seems like the choice is between writing something uplifting, on the one hand, about what I’ve been learning from my life, or writing, on the other hand, the truth.
There once was someone who could reasonably be described as the love of my life — he was certainly the light of my life. In 2007 I watched him die. In 2007 I walked away defeated from what should have been a dream job. In 2007 home ceased to be a refuge. In 2007 my heart broke, regrew and broke again. In 2007 I found that I could no longer count on any of the things I had long assumed my life would hold. In 2007 I watched friends suffer grief that made mine pale.
I have learned this year from the good things, the kindnesses, the friends I found as other friendships dissolved. The emailed poetry and patience and honesty. The cookies. The lizards.
I learned nothing from the hurt except that by itself it did not kill me. And I already knew that much.
Still, there were many good things about 2007. The best of them is that it is coming to an end.
Posted by: Chris Clarke
The love of my life/light of my life line really touched me. I’ve joked in public about my relationship with my first dog as being “one of the Great Loves,” but the reason I’ve joked about it was because some part of me knew it would be misconstrued/disbelieved. The uninhibited affection-of-the-heart I had with him was something I was seldom able to let loose with another human, and all these years after his passing, I still feel it.
Re: Writing something uplifting vs. writing something true. Ain’t it amazing how MUCH of the untrue stuff we get, apparently motivated by the intention to allow us to drag ourselves through our grim lives?
I don’t really think of life as all that grim. Yeah, there’s plenty of bad stuff, but that’s just the way things are. It’s like those creatures that live in the deep ocean next to those black smoker volcanic vents – I imagine the reaction one of them would get if he turned to another and said “Is it hot and dark down here, or is it just me?”
Those writers who spin us the Happy rather than the True seem to be unconsciously encouraging us to whistle past the graveyard. Instead, we’re whistling past the OFFICE – failing to get our necessary work done because somebody thinks we’re too fragile to handle realness, and need to live in some sort of Disney version of real life to just get through the day. There’s so much stuff we’d be able to fix if we just focused on it, but instead we pamper ourselves with comic bookery and the work goes undone.
On the edge of the cliff, when we should be thinking about checking the solidity of the floor and the firmness of the footing, or maybe even taking an informed step or two back, we shriek with drunken laughter, and dance.
...
Chris, I have no idea why this comes to mind, but if you plan a trip to Mono Lake in 2008, go to Mammoth Lakes too, and take the bus down to Red’s Meadow. Then take the short hike to Devil’s Postpile and go up to the top of it. The parquet-tile effect that glaciation has given the top of that mass of columnar basalt is just ... cool.
And if you get THAT far, hike down to Lower Falls, a couple of miles downstream from the Postpile and a mile or so down from Rainbow Falls, and just rest there and watch it for a half hour or so.
I know you’re a desert guy, but flowing water, especially this crystal-clear, ice-cold, roaring-singing-chuckling version, is hypnotically soothing.
By: By Hank Fox on 2007 12 31
Example #47 of the limits of vitriol. Only the quiet observation has the capacity to nudge someone else’s scratched record without upsetting the gramophone. This post jolted me from an interminable December mutter of the alternative Auld Lang Syne:
We’re here because we’re here,
Because we’re here,
Because we’re here.
Bless ya!
I wonder: is there no value in reaching the realization that the hurt has not been fatal? Can we foresee what will break us? I think of major life losses (aka life) as actual collisions, with friends peering in to ask, “how badly are you injured?” And for a while, sometimes a long while, we don’t know the answer. Reverberations must reflect, test existing fissures and decay before we can assess permanent damage.
A year ago, for example, I would have said that trust in human animals had died. Now, it looks to be beyond dinged; deeply dented, and yet—oddly but undeniably—drivable.
No longer pretty, but workable. That may be my slogan for 2008. And perhaps a fortune-cookie definition of middle-age.
By: By jmartin on 2007 12 31
Thanks, Chris. My 2007 has been a verklempt mixture of good and awful as well. Perhaps I’ll write about it today - more than likely not. I have too much to do to think about it.
Your writing of suffering brought to mind the Four Noble Truths. Not that that particularly helps. It just did.
By: By sravana on 2007 12 31
I mean it’s clear that aside from the good parts, 2007 sucked.
... yep.
By: By Magniloquence on 2007 12 31
It is a profound gift, to be able to say what you see. Use it.
Tiger got to hunt,
bird got to fly;
Man got to sit and wonder, ‘Why, why, why?Tiger got to sleep,
bird got to land;
Man got to tell himself he understand—K Vonnegut, 1922 – 2007
(Now, where’d I stash that beaker of acid?)
By: By black dog barking on 2007 12 31
Yeah.
Love you, Chris. And glad you’re still standing. And me too. And BlackAmazon, ilyka, Nez, Sylvia, Nanette, the bewilderness, Dave, Beth, so many others this year online and off, still standing; still pouring generous, stubborn, gorgeous, truthful words that feed and sustain my courage and stamina. Daily grateful for that.
I am also glad to see this year go. Too much pain for too long. I wish us all abundant moments of rest, play, and joy in 2008. And for the inevitable hard stuff, friends at our backs.
“Is it hot and dark down here, or is it just me?”
also:
Can we foresee what will break us? I think of major life losses (aka life) as actual collisions, with friends peering in to ask, “how badly are you injured?” And for a while, sometimes a long while, we don’t know the answer. Reverberations must reflect, test existing fissures and decay before we can assess permanent damage.
Keepers, thanks Hank and jmartin.
By: By Theriomorph on 2007 12 31
What kind of acid?
Happy New Year!
By: By Daisy on 2007 12 31
PS: I heard you were a computer whiz… any ideas why that Gravatar thing won’t work? It’s driving me insane.
By: By Daisy on 2007 12 31
Finding my way to the writing on your blog - score one for 2007.
By: By Joan Kelly on 2007 12 31
A toast from Robert Heinlein’s Jubal Harshaw:
“Here’s to our noble selves!”
To you, Chris, and to all the commenters and readers here, and to all the bright, funny, reasoning people we share the world with:
Happy New Year!
To the living, all the best in 2008.
To those who couldn’t be here with us, warm memories of the time we had together.
By: By Hank Fox on 2007 12 31
I can’t do much more than echo jmartin in #3. I tried to say on my own little blog that we need to acknowledge our losses, but not be defeated by them. They don’t necessarily teach us anything; they are simply parts of our contingent history. Brace up and move on is the only alternative.
By: By Rugosa on 2007 12 31
All the best to you in this new year, Chris. You’re a gem, as always.
That quiet sense-making still means a great deal to a lot of people, I think. It does to me.
By: By little light on 2007 12 31
I ate some cookies with cranberries in them.
And what more do you expect from a calendar year? Except, maybe, this: I saw attacked ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion, which would make the year beyond staggering (unless, of course, you’re Paul Kantner, in which case that would be something that happens routinely, usually just after breakfast.)
I learned nothing from the hurt. I suspect that’s disingenuous, but I respect you too much to say so, categorically, in public. While it is possible that you learned nothing from it, it is indisputable that you have taught a great deal from it to those willing to learn. And, of course, the lesson learned will be very different from one listener to another. Thank you very much for my particular perceptions gleaned from your articulations of your loss. They’ve helped me a great deal.
Still, there were many good things about 2007. The best of them is that it is coming to an end.
And, here, I have to completely disagree with you. I am not happy for any year, or month, or day, or moment to end, even (perhaps especially) those that are most grievous. Those moments, every one of them, define life, and to throw any of them away (as is implied by celebrating a year’s end) is a sad sort of time-killing, and I’m sure you know what Thoreau said about how that effects eternity.
By: By Sherwood on 2007 12 31
It’s off the shores of Orion isn’t it? I’ve got the OST for blade runner adn that’s what it sounds like. Why would there be shoals in orion anyway, shoals of what? Not salmon?
then lost much of it[citation needed]
The lords of MilIndustCom ain’t that easy, and different strokes don’t mean that different folks ain’t still stroking. Those who pretend that they are not slaves are doomed to be whipped ...forever!
perverts.
Also, the century ended on jan 1st 2001, thus the 21st century is basically going to be a century of Bush. This, admittedly, is kinda my fault, and also why I never mess around with euphamisms when making wishes any more.
I meant well.
By: By R. Mildred on 2008 01 01
2007 was good but sad since we also lost our beloved dog we understand how you feel. He meant so much to us it is like losing a person. Hopefully this new year will be a happier one for all of us and I wish you all the best for the new year.
By: By RachelAnne on 2008 01 01
here’s to peace in our hearts and souls (yes)
and good things in 2008!
and you with the dazzlingly beautiful mind~
cheers to you and yours!
xo
By: By rose on 2008 01 01
you and ‘morphita put it well. about the threads. the clever vitriol. i’m the same way. if i have to scrap in real life, i’m ready most of the time. but getting hot and nasty and angry on a thread? over and over? coming back? ugh. the belly.
2007 sucked for me in ways too, and i’m glad to kick it to the curb. OH and i’m glad we got to talk more too. by the way. but also, 2007 saw the start of some good changes for me.
i’m glad, too, you shook off la mala gente. hell with ‘em.
i have to disagree fully about suffering. its given me much empathy for others where i would not have had it, i think. i cant be sure. but i see a clear correlation between suffering something, and strongly bonding to someone when i see them suffer it, and my consequent action to cease that suffering.
person A or thing A may bring me an instance of bad pain. (or a year. or more. but an instance, if you get me.) but that will cause me to rise up and fight or aid or mitigate or work against one hundred instances of that same type of pain, when i see it around me. so maybe i dont benefit. but the world often does.
here’s to tomorrow, chris. and to today. and to friends.
By: By nezua on 2008 01 01
or maybe the world suffers! how often do i propagate or instill the same pain that was given me, to others? maybe i just dont take as much note of those instances. i can’t be sure!!!
By: By nezua on 2008 01 01
=v= I have a vitriol problem of my own, as you may know. Basically, I’m angry, and with good reason. The key is to convert anger into constructive action, but I don’t always succeed.
I hear you about vitriol taking precedence over cleverness, but you know what that does to me? It make me angry. It’s a conundrum.
By: By Jym on 2008 01 01
Also? In 2007? I learned I don’t have a soul. It was a bit startling, but man, once I got used to the idea? What a relief.
Do you mean that in the materialist sense? e.g. you don’t have a soul because one is not neccesary for your perception of self, or to be a human being, based, as we are, on neuro-electro-chemical signals ricocheting around a bundle of p2p axions and neurons, linking together a networked yet cohesive whole of multicellular tissue, that itself lives and dies to form the collectivist organism that one cannot help but call “I”...
...or someone accused you having no soul in one of the bitchfests on majikthise or pandagon or feministe or [insert blog]?
Because I am all like “O Snap!” on the first one if that’s the case.
By: By R. Mildred on 2008 01 01
I have nothing particularly profound to offer at this time, I’m afraid. Much as I’d like to have something to say about the existentialist implications of it all, I’m not sure how it’d come out; the last such I made was in the course of reviewing the new Dr. Who series, and subsequent feedback left me with the impression that maybe it was just time to lie down for a long while.
Anyway—wishing you more joy and light in this coming year. x
By: By belledame222 on 2008 01 02
I’m getting to be old enough to feel that the passing of years seems less significant. Or maybe that’s just faux wisdom. I liked the Vonnegut poem above. I also like belledame’s wish and if she doesn’t mind I’ll second it, for Chris and all.
By: By Charles on 2008 01 02
Chris, vitriol one can obtain anywhere. Cleverness, not so much. The spitting blogwarcamel brought joy to my heart in 2007, and kept me out of many a fruitless argument because I was retrospectively laughing too hard. Not that the blogwarcamel was the only good thing about your blog this year, but don’t sell your cleverness short. I hope 2008 is better for you.
By: By nm on 2008 01 02
You’ve perfectly captured why I tend to avoid the retrospective post. As a group, historians are reluctant to engage with any material in the last ten years, arguing that it is still too recent, too fresh in mind and spirit, to analyze with anything resembling objectivity. (History as a discipline is never 100% objective, of course, but that’s another issue.) So trying to sum up something as recent as this last year seems destined for frustration.
On the other hand, perhaps it is because (a) I would have to go through a year’s of old posts in order to recall what in fact did happen (and I’m lazy); and (b) I’m trying to put off the end-of-year mailing as long as I can.
By: By Rachel Shaw on 2008 01 02
NM makes a vital distinction: the cleverness here is essential fuel.
My end-of-year reading has included The Tree, in which author and possible Dickens character Colin Tudge describes jack pines dependent on fire to reproduce. Because a given fire may not provide sufficient duration of heat to trigger seed dispersal, the cone itself assists. When heated, the cone exudes resin to create a surrounding “gentle, lamplike flame” lasting just over a minute.
—————————————-
How indicative of post-holiday muzziness that I cannot lead myself out of this analogy. Who is the fire? Who is the cone?
Ah well:
1. Cleverness transforms.
2. BYOR.
By: By jmartin on 2008 01 03
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