Bottle that euphoria

I consider myself to be optimistic (some have even called me a Pollyanna), but there are times, moments, when my faith in humanity is shaken. As an addict who has been through rehab I have seen the basest of behaviors and yet I have also seen in those same people a core of humility and the ability to love unconditionally. Those experiences have colored how I view the world around me and given me a pretty firm belief in the goodness of humans. This may be why I enjoy reading Dean Koontz. It's certainly why my RoadID says, "Definitely half full!"

I had a co-worker point out the other day, very casually I might add, that we live in the "meanest part of America's meanest city." That really got me wondering if it's true. There is no question that South Philly has its share of meanies, but is it really the worst? I'd be curious to hear from other parts of the country - I've read often that Milwaukee is a really nice place to live, for instance. Still, I sure do encounter a lot of negativity.

I commute by bike and yesterday had to slam on my brakes and skid to a stop so a young woman on the phone could pull halfway out into the intersection. I have to admit I became the lowest common denominator and cursed her stupidity, out loud. She then proceeded to yell back at me (with a much deeper shade of blue language), head out the window, while she continued across the rest of the intersection without looking the other way, causing those oncoming cars to do the same thing I had just done, still on the phone.

Of course, I'm on the front lines a good part of the day, working customer service, so maybe I'm just seeing a subset of folks. But then I think about the unseen instances. Like the clear baggie full of dog poop in a store display. Who uses clear baggies for that? But let's give them the benefit of the doubt, because they did clean up after their dog. But why would you take it inside, only to leave it out in the open? That's just plain malicious. We have lots of trashcans. Please use one next time. Or returning industrial-sized fans, ostensibly, and filling the boxes with cinderblocks. Shame on us for not checking every box, but really? What were you thinking when you got up this morning? That it sure looks like a good day to take advantage of someone's better nature?

This is about nothing more or less than kindness. I fear becoming an old crank, but I don't want to spend all of my time assuming the worst of others. It needn't be this way. I was riding home two days ago and passed a young girl twirling on the sidewalk with two big balloons. She stopped and looked at me almost guiltily but with a hint of a smile still there. I said, "You look very happy." She replied, with a bigger smile, "I am." And so I smiled the rest of the way home. It takes so little. Mind you, this was ten minutes after I realized that someone had taken the lights off my bike while I spent five minutes in the grocery store. That's $35 to replace them instead of getting $35 worth of groceries, or whatever. Did that thought go through that person's mind as they removed them? I guess not, or the lights would still be there. But the smile was the balance. That's why there is a yin-yang on my shoulder.

You can't take this happiness stuff for granted. As glorious as it feels to smile a big smile it wouldn't be that big a deal if there wasn't as big a negative to make it a big deal. A couple of times in the past few weeks I've had these massive bursts of euphoria, out of the blue. I can only attribute them to the training I'm doing for the marathon in November. It's awesome and I wish I could bottle it and give it to some of the miserable people out there. Pity, that.

Afterlife?

The more I puzzle over this the more convinced I become that we are just biological entities that come and go. That's the beginning and end of it all. No reincarnation, no heaven or hell, no afterlife. Here then gone. And I'm OK with that. It forces me to focus on today.

I can only surmise that the belief in anything beyond this world is grounded in fear and the realization that we can't control very much. If we can control another world or plane of existence (and the entrance thereto) then we have an out for our behavior in this one. I cannot fathom spending my whole life believing that going to church or temple once a week or praying five times a day or whatever will give me a leg up when I die. Isn't it far more important to interact with people every day, here and now, and give them the best of me? I do a lousy job of it, too - there aren't enough great stories of thinking of others before myself - but I am cognizant of it and keep trying to get back on that beam.

Why is an afterlife so important to humans? How does adhering to a religious faith help? And what's up with using that faith to justify bad behavior? How does it help me today if you tell me I'm not good enough because I don't believe what you believe? More importantly, to my mind anyway, how does that help you? How can that train of thought possibly make your day better? It sure can't be healthy. It has to be a matter of control. If you can control my way of life, you must be right, and by extension you are in control. I am as mystified by an Islamic suicide bomber as I am by the Buddhist mobs in Burma or the Janjaweed in Darfur. Where is the peaceful aspect of this behavior? What's the goal? And don't all of these faiths have some variation on the theme of a golden age? If that's what we're all hoping for then what are we all waiting for?

I'll just try to have my own little golden age.

My pit bull

Teena is decidedly more grey than she was when I got her last year, but she is wearing it well. This is the face of a beautiful animal. After reading about the 360 pit bulls rescued from a life of fighting this week I get why some people are afraid of the breed. There's no question that the prominence of their jaw can give one pause (at one time I had a video of her crushing the sidewall of a pretty substantial tire), but, like any pet, nature and nurture come together to create the whole.

Teena was likely kept solely for breeding, then kicked out when they were done with her. She was found behind a grocery store, emaciated, sick and lacking social skills. After a year-plus in a shelter she came into my life and I can't picture it any other way. The awesome folks at PAWS here in Philly rescued her and gave her a start on a new life. They got her healthy (including enrolling her in a life-long study at Penn Vet when it was determined that she had breast cancer), socialized her and tried with all their might to find her a good home.

There were some serious considerations in this regard: no other pets, no little kids. Since I'm single this worked out well, and most of the initial concerns have turned out to be less troubling than we expected - she loves people, including kids, and she does well around smaller dogs. Larger dogs are a no-go. She sits down and growls if a larger male dog gets too close and she will not hesitate to snap if she feels threatened. She has drawn blood on one particularly aggressive bulldog. Yes, I always walk her on a leash and try to maintain a reasonable distance from other animals, but I can't control everyone else's pet, so interaction is inevitable. My point is simply that, as gentle and happy as she is 97% of the time, she could do some serious damage if she had to. And I suspect that's the case with all pit bulls.

Teena has grown quite comfortable around me. She doesn't like going to her cancer checkups as much anymore because we get separated. It's been interesting to watch. The first time we went she knew where she was and the staff confirmed their earlier comments in her records that she is a delightful patient. The next time we went she wouldn't go out of my sight. So we've bonded and of that I am extremely proud. The simplicity of a dog-human relationship should be experienced by everyone. Maintaining that simplicity is the responsibility of the owner. It's really that simple.