Very alternative lifestyles

I am mostly thinking about creative projects these days, but the hot temperatures in the past week have meant more sleepless nights and podcasts, so I have one more controversial topic.

Last night I listened to 

an interview with self-declared pronatalists Malcolm and Simone Collins. The link takes you to the description, so I won’t bother with introducing them.

These were my 3 main takeaways:

1) Many times throughout the podcast, I decided that Malcolm and Simone were batshit crazy and that I would never listen to anything else they had to say again. But then one of them would say something interesting or perceptive and I would find myself intrigued or starting to like them.

2) They happily described their lifestyle as weird and admitted that it is part of their parenting approach to teach their kids to be weird. The children are different because more is expected of them than of other people. If nothing else, this sparked recognition in me: My family growing up was also more than a little bit weird and I also learned to accept it and even take a certain amount of pride in it.*

3) At the end of the interview, Malcolm says that his and Simone’s approach to family life is based on a hypothesis, and if they are wrong, they want other people to be right. He emphasizes that he wants other people to take a different approach to family life and to share whether it works. This improved my opinion of them and their sanity. It’s so rare to find people who are humble, especially when they are claiming to solve the world’s problems (of course this is a hubristic claim in and of itself).

* I do have a complex relationship with weirdness. These days there are so many labels, and everybody is busy “identifying” as this or self-diagnosing as that. That was not my experience growing up: I was just weird. I knew it; other people knew it. (The polite people told me I was “creative.”) So when Malcolm and Simone described themselves (accurately) as weird it was bracing and even gave me a pleasant feeling of nostalgia.

On the other hand, as a young person (teens to early twenties) I felt a great deal of shame over the weirdness. There were a couple of main reasons for this. One, I didn’t feel like I was given a choice as to how weird to be.  I suppose if you have a choice it isn’t genuine weirdness, but play acting. But I still wanted the skills to not be very weird if I chose, and as soon as I figured out how to get them I set about doing so.

The second problem is that the kind of weirdness I experienced as a child, even when it had arguable benefits, didn’t seem to scale up. It worked in our family but I couldn’t see a workable model for a weird life in the larger community. And I wanted that life. I experienced enough isolation as a child to know that I had to find resilience and connection.

But there is always an ambivalence here because I don’t actually mind being weird; I like other weird people; and overwhelmingly, they like me.

I also have, perhaps, a higher than average openness to ideas outside the respectable norm. In real life, I pass  as a middle-class progressive professional. (All those years learning how to be normal!) I say that only to give a shorthand of what’s considered respectable opinion most of the time among friends and colleagues. However, I don’t necessarily accept that the things that most people believe are correct (which nowadays is just as or more likely to be meme- or trend- influenced than the product of experience, tradition, and/or careful thought.) Every now and then, fringe ideas are correct. Not the majority of the time, perhaps, but it’s a non- zero chance.

In other words, part of me, while I quietly go about my conventional, enjoyable existence, is wondering when it is time to abandon it and fully embrace weirdness. I know I can do it after all: it’s a question of whether I want to and whether it’s the best choice. I give the weird people some attention because I think they are in many ways more perceptive in certain circumstances, than my comfortable, conforming peers.

For now, we proceed as normal with occasional adjustments. Next time, something completely different. (Maybe.)

Hunger and Never-Ending Experiments

I followed a trail of comments today to find a link to an article written by Fr. Stephen Freeman last year. I don’t remember reading this article then, though I certainly was an active reader at the time. Maybe I missed it or maybe it didn’t have the same impact. Now, having been through a few cycles of Covid-related impositions, their sort-of withdrawal, the war in Ukraine (ongoing), and another year of trying to hold together my little communities: work, home and dance, these words have a profound impact, a sense of articulating thoughts and intuitions powerfully. What do I do with this knowledge and insight?

When America Got Sick

A quote:

The difficulty with engineered religions, or causes that serve as substitutes, is that they fail to transcend. Regardless of how great many moments or ideas might be, they easily die a thousand deaths as their many non-transcendent failures come to mind. In the late 1960’s, the singer Peggy Lee registered a hit single, “Is that all there is?” It is a song with the lilt of a French chanson, à la Edith Piaf. It moves through the great moments of life, including love and even death itself, but offers its sad refrain:

Is that all there is, is that all there is?
If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing
Let’s break out the booze and have a ball
If that’s all there is

This is our context, the world of modernity. It is also our sickness, an empty lassitude whose hunger invites never-ending experiments of conferring meaning on our world. The “better world” that modernity pursues shifts relentlessly and changes as though it were directed by Paris fashionistas. At the same time, it is met with increasing anger and frustration, a predictable response to what are essentially imposed religious views.

Leaving Neverland

I recently read this excellent article looking at a topic many wonder about: Why are so many people reading and/or listening to Canadian professor Jordan Peterson?

Jordan Peterson is telling young white men what many of us already know: Neverland is a lie.

 I have been listening to and reading a lot of Prof. Peterson’s content since 2017, and have benefited from it greatly. (I am a woman in my early 40s with a family). I’ve also read a lot of “why do people listen to Jordan Peterson!” articles and often “why is it mostly men!” articles, many of which drip jealousy and resentment, and thus explain their own existence if nothing else. I don’t even read those kind of articles anymore, BUT this article by Ms Natthew is very different and makes many excellent points. 

I particularly appreciated the point about how current generations need to make choices about social arrangements and responsibilities  that previous generations could take for granted. This is absolutely a stressor on people and an extremely important issue. And people of my generation and younger (also thinking of myself when younger) likely never articulated to ourselves or had it clearly explained just how big a challenge it is to shoulder responsibility while isolated.

“Moreover, even as we have sought to centralize, routinize and institutionalize many of our familial relationships and friendships, we recognize that our interactions with others are nearly always conscious choices rather than ever-present unconscious realities. For this reason, our responsibilities—professional, marital and parental—are ours alone in a way that was not true for either my Italian-American grandparents or his Liberian ones. Hence no amount of self-awareness or hard work can render us truly fit for the sheer amount of personal responsibility required of anyone trying to be a decent citizen, worker or parent in today’s newly individuated world.

“Enter Jordan Peterson with his now 24 rules, making what was communal, implicit and abstract for my grandparents individual, explicit and specific for me.
“Thus, it is Peterson himself who has noticed that opportunity lurks where responsibility has been abdicated. His resonance with younger people reflects the extreme demands of modern life and the new isolation in which we are expected to meet those demands. It also reflects the failure of our parents and grandparents to prepare many of us for the logistical, psychological and emotional reality that they unwittingly created.”

Matthew also makes the point that JBP resonates more with young (white) men than women because women and some racial minorities already understand his message, but young men are more likely to actually believe they can evade responsibility without consequence.  I tend not to agree with the author that there are more “lost boys” than “lost girls”. There are no shortage of women living alone, struggling with responsibility (and/or avoiding it), seeking relief through medication or retail therapy or whatever. But if our modern world doesn’t necessarily nurture young women, perhaps it caters more to us in the sense that it can repackage and sell our desires back to us.  I would say that if you really want to generalize, it’s not that JBP’s message is not relevant to women, it’s that we are lagging a bit behind in our awareness of its relevance.

Highly recommended read.