The racist that is us

The world mourns for a beacon that was Mendela.

It rains in the stadium and inside the heart.

Racism was an ingrained system up to the Civil War, fought in World War, struggled in the 60’s and onto the 90’s in Apartheid.

We simply don’t like color folks, first in speech, than in hush-hush, now only in thoughts. Keep it to yourself.

But if it’s the Huxtables (neighbor, doctor and well-mannered) than it’s OK.

Recently down in Florida, it still happened when a nephew of a resident got shot in a struggle. Zimmerman got off free, than later, in jail for beating up his girlfriend. A diametrical replay of Rodney King who also got arrested for other charges after the LA riot.

Man inhumanity to man spreads across the color line.

What Nelson Mendela did which made him great? He simply went to a ball game (just like Rosa Parks who chose to sit in front of the bus), and not a soccer game, but a Rugby game (lilly-white). He refused to be drawn into a downward spiral, the mean streak of violence piling on top of violence, which eventually destroys both sides. This cycle polarizes us, and perpetuates itself,  inflating the dark side in each of us, the racist part. Studies show that fear passed on from generation to generation, that includes the fear of the bogeyman.

For me, Mandela was more than a symbol of reconciliation, or racial struggle, or political triumph.

He was and remains my symbol of hope. Of thought leadership. Our Gandhi. Creative problem-solving, while setting aside personal feelings (and the urge to take revenge).

27 years of honing his thoughts and feelings in confinement.

Of nursing the dim light of hope. Of  life-long learning.

Then, boom! Stadium and podium, concert (Bono) and ball game, Bishop and President.

Sometimes, in traffic, a minute is too long for us. And when pre-judging someone, 5 seconds are too long.

The racist in us needs a re-education. Be it 27 years or life time. But start now. To understand and be understood. What if you were born dark-skinned? or white for that matter. The burden is on us to reach out, to say “Hi, my name is….. Good to meet you”. I know a friendly person when I come across one. Don’t you? Because if we don’t, we simply transfer that fear to the next generation, and before we know it, history repeats itself due to our ignorance or inertia. Then, some facist or racist leader will rise (hopefully with another style of greeting if he/she is creative enough) and recycle those stirring speeches we all know so well ” they took our jobs, they come with strange ” costumes” etc…”.

Then the crowd will nod, and the crowd will call themselves the Majority vs the Other. And mass hysteria will take over

The right to bear arms etc… and our children will have to do it all over again. I hate that, don’t you. So mourn, but not too long. Mendela would rather see us take action, smile at strangers regardless the size of their bodies or the color of their skin. It only takes a small effort to reach out, to click on the mouse and send a text or endorsement. Recognize the racist that is us, and manually override it. Let not your small inherited fear dictate how you behave in today’s world. I hope that world is full of Mandelas, full of hope and humanity. We got work to do. Let not the small stuff steal  our game of Rugby.

All by ourselves

In the 70’s, the Me decade, we heard “All by myself” a lot on the radio.

Now, it’s the age of collaboration. All by ourselves.

Whiteboarding, synergy and M&A.

Nokia, Sony and Dell. All are taking the back seat.

Players we did not see coming are now in the field: Haier, Acer and Lenovo.

Users we did not know, can now afford buying our products e.g. I-phone 5s in Vietnam.

Dictators we thought couldn’t stand a chance, now sit in defiance of UN inspectors (Syria).

All by ourselves: APEC and TPP. NATO and UN Security Council.

Multi-polar world. Multi-tasking organization and multi-party lock jam.

It’s not that we can’t find good leaders. We weren’t prepared and planned for today’s contingencies.

Obama, once an Editor of Harvard Law Journal, just wanted to consult Congress on the War Powers Act.

In doing so, he exhibits the best of Constitutional compliance, yet entangled in “what if” scenarios, and  missed out a chance to be a great world leader.

All by himself.

Now people are speculating about Gates returning to Microsoft.

Must be hard the second time around (it would be the equivalent of Tom Hanks in Big, asking his x girl friend to go back and do it again).

He can be a figure-head, presiding over a round table of talents snatched up from competitors since the year of 2000.

Bill Gates is not needed for his prescient. After all, he missed seeing the Internet the first time around.

He can however humbly play the collaborator and coordinator role.

All by ourselves.

Or he can shut the door, and sing his heart out, like Bridget Jones, “All by myself”, all the while, envying Steve Jobs, in life as in death. Can you imagine a book and a movie on Gates? I’d rather read and see one about his partner in Idea Man – the one and only Paul Allen, rehearsing with the Stones in his private world-class yacht. The Stones don’t do “All by myself”.

 

No Spring attached

Having lived in coastal cities for quite some time, I forgot what’s like to wait for Spring.

We need Winter as a set up for Spring.  Winter-Spring contrast is more striking than that of Summer-Fall.

We also anticipated Spring more than Fall (some even wish for endless summers).

Vietnamese literature and lyrics (Gold music) nevertheless, serenade Fall and fallen leaves more than other times of the year.

Something about a dreamy creek which evokes music and deers which stand still, clueless and trusting.

The wait for Spring has stretched out a bit further lately due to climate change.

But Spring has always been a symbol of  hope and renewal.

Gone are the days of cold temperature and heavy coats.

Spring breakers are anticipating wild celebrations down Florida beaches.

The Church is electing its new Pope just in time for Easter Celebration.

And Wall Street keeps ringing its bell.

Something is in the air, if not Spring itself.

Optimism is more contagious than grim bad news.

There is nothing more forward-looking than holding a baby in arms.

So much future, so many more seasons.

In that context, it’s not so bad to put up with a few overcast days.

There are also sparks of creativity in this year’s Paris outerwear collection.

With Spring comes less laundry to do (wearing less), some Easter candies to eat and the Cherry Blossom Parade to attend.

Spring is in the air. Everyone seems to be eager for it,… except those with hay fever. Now, that explains the eye irritation starts coming my way.

There are always strings attached, even for Spring.

Human spirit as Motivator

Papillon is a real-life recount of  an undefeated spirit. Viktor Frankl talks about “they can take my body but not the spirit that is in me”.

In war, down the trenches, with bullets zipping by, what causes a man to stay put?

No greater love than a man who lays down his life for a friend. Comradeship.

Mike Murphy, a SEAL, a Penn Stater, went out in the clear for better wireless signals, knowingly sacrificed his life to save his troop.

Human spirits.

Higher purpose.

Maslow perhaps touched on this by naming it “self-actualization“.

In War and Peace, we read about the Russian army defended Motherland after Napoleon had burned down Moscow.

Wounded bodies, but not spirits.

United Flight 93 passengers decided in split seconds to go down in style.

In 300, the movie, their leader retorts that (when aides brought up bad news that the enemies’ arrows would rain down and cover the sky) “good, we will fight in the shade then”.

Human spirits.

Each man’s history tends to condense in those few decisive turns.

Shun not the confluence of events.

In crisis, show confidence and judgement. When it’s 50-50 split, throw in the human spirit. The tie-breaker.

The quant could never factor this quality on their spread sheets.

They aren’t trained to identify much less put a dollar value on it.

But since time began, we know it exists. One more (aerobic) step, one more cold call (Colonel Sanders), one more pregnancy unaborted.

The Vietnamese eat from a common rice pot. There is always one extra bowl and a pair of chopsticks just in case.

I was at RockStorm last night (stadium concert). The other numbers were OK.

But when Noi Vong Tay Lon (Let’s join hands) was up, I heard a loud chorus “the wild is calling us to rejoin disparaged shores”. Old wine in new skins. The spirit of unity expressed in new genre (rock was first associated with individuality and independence).

In Hotel California, we hear that “we haven’t had that spirit since 1969”.

Human spirit.

Tell me it did not exist, too intangible, hard to pin down.

I will tell you history is made of exactly that, whether or not historians could pin it down. That which is unseen is stronger than that which is seen.

The things they still carry

The war novel with similar title was surprisingly good. I have known about it for a while, but couldn’t get myself to “carry” it home. Until now. Until it’s translated into Vietnamese.

It’s the opposite of reading Bao Ninh‘s The Sorrows of War in English.

Both novels had the same setting, same period, same conflict, same ending (went down with whatever they were carrying, on their bodies and on their minds).

Sorry winner and lucky loser.

All the while, the sound track for that same period was Proud Mary (you don’t have to worry, for people are happy to give).

In The Things They Carried, supplies were chopper-ed in (chocolate, cigarettes and C-rations). The military industrial complex was “happy to give”, from Hartford, from MN etc…

Rolling, rolling, rolling on the river.

I could barely get through the first few chapters, reading about the members of this fictitious company as they went down, with the things they carried (one of them even carried sleeping pills – for eternal rest).

We can now look back, with recognized names like J. Kerry, J. Fonda etc… at a  safe and rational distance, away from the heat of Kent State and Watergate and My Lai.

I have seen the things people here in VN carry, on their shoulders, on their scooters.

But inside, unless they sit down and tell me, the hidden things that they still carry are scary.

Those with vivid memories are dying one by one, on both sides of the Pacific.

We got scholarly volumes and doctrine (Powell) on the conflict.

And we eventually got Burger King and Dunkin here in VN. It’s like the tunnel is finally closed  with sign which says “Go away, leave the past alone”.

For here or to go?

It’s Future Land now. Happy Land. Disney Land. Dream Land. It has to be.

Yes. Young students carry a lot with them today: book bags, smart phones,  eye glasses, cigarettes, lighters, even IDs. No dog tags. No Zippos. No memories.

Just a bunch of “nic’s” and passwords. Everything is in the Cloud. On Facebook. On Drop Box and Mail Box.

To search for them. Easy. Just Google. In Vietnamese, or English. No translation needed. Sorrows of War or The Things They Carried. Instant access.

Perhaps that war, Vietnam that was, was the last  “hardware-driven” conflict.

No wonder, the things they carried, seemed awfully heavy and burdensome when viewed from a light-weight I-pad.

Romancing Saigon

Good luck! Bit it’s better  for you to wait until the scorching heat subsides, before you have a chance.

There are layers to Saigon, like you would peeling an onion.

Cafe Sua Da prices fluctuate from one street corner to the next.

On the main tourist strip, you still find Zippo lighters and even dog tags next to pirated copies of Vietnam War classics.

In fact, you don’t need to visit the museum of war (atrocities) to turn the clock back. The whole city could be viewed as a museum of war. The battle of ideology 1963, battle of Tet 1968 all took place here . Just walk the streets, you can relive the intensity of those struggles. Yet, in danger, there are romances. People live faster lives (translated to shorter ones). Self-immolated monk wasn’t the only one who burned himself to nirvana. Privileged youth are fast-tracking there as well, a phenomenon familiar to US “urban youth” (whose life expectation has  been rumored to be just above the legal drinking age.) Here, it’s already an improvement as compared to back then when widows and orphans were common.

A plane load of orphans took off and crashed just before the city itself “fell” to the hands of victors.

Now, you find bars. reincarnated versions of what used to be night clubs, hang-out places for GI‘s and their unspent payrolls. Today, beers popped open. Conversation started, most of which like two ships passing in the night. And young backpackers, many of  whom with Lonely planet’s guide, searching frantically to geo-ID themselves.

Oh well, drop those guides. Follow your instincts. Live a little. risk a little. Romance it. Don’t expect everything is set.

But then, what do you expect. War time might be over, but it’s still a “war zone”.

Can’t miss that tank on permanent display at Independent Palace.

Yes, you will find romance, but the price is to drop your guards, your expectations and prejudices. Saigon and Vietnam always reward seekers. But serious inquirers only. And the down payment is stiff, once paid in blood during the conflict.

And pain lingers on. Someone has to pay for reparation. It might as well be you. And you, and you. Sorry to pass on the virus which I myself have contracted while romancing Saigon.

Imponderables

Dead Valley is known to be the hottest place on Earth.

Yet millions have traveled pass there on their way to Las Vegas.

Venture Capitalists are also well versed in what’s so called “valley of death” i.e. when a start-up moved pass its honey-moon stage, and simply cannot sustain the burnt rate.

Yet people keep trying.

Then, aside from “death” rate, we got divorce rate.

Yet people keep falling in love, and getting married.

Hint: more shopping and spending for a family of two and more.

In America, there is no shortage of imponderables.

I am starting to read Paterno bio. I could barely get through the first few pages.

Something quite imponderable there (despite the lucid prose).

After all, what happened in America, stayed in America.

Sex shops, butcher shops.

Churches and strip clubs, sometimes near each other.

Schools and parks (for homeless people) near fast-food and donuts joints.

Dental office next to candy shop.

And 24-hr gym (all you can lift)  near Hometown Buffet (all you can eat). Go figure.

America spends a large chunk of change on incarceration, pornography (hard and soft e.g. NYT best-seller list, top 3 are taken by the same author who caters to women taste for escapism), guns and amos (especially amos, modeled after HP cartridge business model), medical marijuana and spirits (that get you on a downward spiral).

My name is Thang. And I am not an alcoholic. So help me God.

Somewhere somehow, the line has been moved: the incarcerated are better cared for than the non-incarcerated.

The top 1% refuses to pick up golf balls, while the rest can’t afford meat balls.

Kids aren’t learning (slipped in ranking), while workers need to but can’t get it paid for by the employers or government.

Politicians are talking, but leaders aren’t leading.

We are bidding for time, for election, for miracles, and are freezed like deers in front of approaching head lights.

Actors are either making quiet retreat (Sundance Festival), or gone overboard (Eastwood and Samuel Jackson).

It’s the best time to be in  late-night comedy.

But SNL fans can’t stay up late (wrong demographic for that time slot).

Voting booths seem to always have problems in Florida. (Voters should be required to have an eye-exam). We are enjoying our time on the deck, but forgot to check the ship’s name. ( Titanic ?).

Even if it’s free, no ride lasts forever.

Every once in a while, we need to check the navigating instrument. No such thing as auto-piloting (Google unmanned car?).

Not in this age of post-innocence. Not at this time of austerity. Not now. Not ever. We need to be vigilant against those who quack like a leader, walk like a leader, but in fact, are not leaders at all. Leadership comes with a price. They come to take credits. This is the root of all imponderables: those who can’t lead, lead. Those who can, refuse to stay in the game.

Perfection and Permanence

Right! We are wired to look for those two qualities in others, but we know it’s in vain.

Buddha realizes that by stop wanting, we found. Gandhi won by being after the path of  non-violence. Yet, we keep slaughtering each other, hurting people and writing them off .

In business, we took calculated risks, optimal ROI and voted for the most pragmatic of minds.

But humanity can only advance by those who follow a different drum beat. The “Yes, I can” kind of people.

There is a fine line between scientists and dreamers, poets and politicians.

They imagine the possibilities, while realizing that permanence and perfection are just mirage, yet one needs to reach out still. The paradox in life is to know, then to forget that we know, and before we know it, we end up knowing the truth for the first time.

Face-to-face. Out of the gate, into the sun, and keep following it. What happened before will happen again. But this time, we are all the wiser. Still with the half glass. Full or empty? Ask first of yourself the perfection you are looking in others. No wonder we all cried the minute we are out of that maternal bubble. From then on, it’s all uncertainty and unpredictability. The guy whose name is Murphy did not invent the Law. He just articulated it better than most of us. You and I are joined by the hips, commonly bonded with Murphy and might as well acknowledge that there is no Perfection nor Permanence. On that note, I am grateful for WordPress for being there, day in and day out. Reliable, but even then, I am not sure, it will be there permanently. As to Perfection, we are reaching for it, or else, there wouldn’t be new apps and themes, new ideas and content, challenges and overcoming.

Mojo memory

Like muscle memory, our mojo could come back if we know how to flex it. Self-reinvention. Press reset.

Peak again. Brace for it.

Noose’s head. Winning.

It’s hard work and threatening to ride the wave once again.

Many would rather take the path of least resistance. Play it safe.

But the world is crying out for leadership. True North.

You don’t manage people. You lead them.

You manage time and money. But people are multidimensional.

How can you apply a cookie approach to a bunch of unique people?

By being one. An authentic one that is.

The end of all learning is to know yourself, your style and your SWOT.

Build a team to complement one another.

Get the mojo back.

Quick.

We are way pass talking.

Just do it.

Inertia has killed all of us. Death is in no special hurry.

We will end up doing ourselves in.

Except for those who saw this coming (Steve Jobs was one).

Clapton saw his child fall to his death (Tears in Heaven).

Now he got a million-dollar car.

Wonderful tonight.

Mojo back.

Remember your glory?

Blood, sweat and tears?

Been there done that?

How about now?

Can you pull the rabbit out of the hat once again?

The world needs leaders. Authentic ones.

Hard to find. Like quality. You recognize it when you see it.

Like muscle memory, you can feel it when it returns.

Like home sweet home, you can smell mom’s cooking.

The sweet taste of success, of rewards for accomplishment.

But until then, lead on. Start with yourself. Back to basics.

Block and punch. Kick that kick a thousand times.

10,000 hours of mastery.

Leadership is a skill set. But it’s a learned art.

Everybody recognizes a leader. You know the presence, the charisma, the passion, the fire, and the influence. Contagious influence. Let’s connect. Let’s get the mojo back. Wake it up. It will come back on reflex.

 

Eventually

“If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry” p.249 A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway.

Hemingway was lucid about war and the tolls it exacts at a personal level. We are in a hurry, but death isn’t. We could have been dead at birth.  Why be in a hurry?

I closed the book feeling so empty. Especially when it ends with THE END in caps.

Is this how my world and yours will end? IN CAPS? in the rain?

Why are we still hurting each other? To what end?

Greed has no end. I know that.

Jealousy as well.

But goodness and kindness ? Are they in short supply?

If we weren’t around at all – what opportunities have we lost? gained? missed?

Life saga doesn’t just happen in movies. It happens in real life. Another day at work, another child is born into this pain-filled world. A funeral (a good sight, since it marks THE END of a hopefully good life).

What about hope?

Have we lost the ability to dream?

Fire, Ready, Aim.,

I love the Romantics yet I ended up being a Realist.

Many of my age already turned cynical.

I haven’t heard joy and laughter from people of my age for a while.

What happened to those baby-faces? Lost innocence?

Don’t cave in.

It will get you eventually. Hence buying for time. Enjoy the ride.

Be not in any special hurry!