Regretting certain choices we’ve made in the past distracts us from making the most of the present which leads us to future regrets....
Dear Subscribers, A rose is a rose is a rose and what we choose to call a it doesn't change what it is. Yet, to organize the world about us and facilitate communication, we have created words as symbols for things and actions. Some words are names which identify individual people. Those words often have other symbolic meanings which may reflect the nature of the person identified by the name. My name, given me at birth, is Avigdor. It is an Israeli name. It means "by father, the tall and courageous." Jewish tradition has it that newborns are named after deceased relatives. I was named after my great grandfather, Wigdor. Wigdor, by some accounts, means "logical thinker." My name was revelatory as my early years were somewhat defined by my father who was taller and more courageous than me and as such ruled over me in ways that made little logical sense to me. For example, metaphorically, at times he got angry and cried over milk I spilled and punished me accordingly, while it seemed to me that we should simply mop up the milk and go buy some more to replace it. At 13, bar mitzvah time, when Jewish boys graduate to become men, I changed my name to "Victor." Victor suited me as I aimed to be victorious in the matters that held meaning to me, commercial matters and romantic relationships. In the play of life, "Terrific," in Act 1 we are born and socialized. In Act 2 we have our Earth experience of career, family and pursuing various other personal and social interests. Act 3 is The Transition. The Transition is the path or way from our alive bodily state to our bodily death. Successfully done, we realize our potential of divine consciousness as we transition from being a finite person on Earth to being one with everything. In Act 3, my name in Act 2, Victor, no longer suits me. As The Transition is the way from our life as a finite self to the eternal soul which is what we are before we arrive on Earth, my name should reflect my role in the play of life which is to follow and show others the way. A vector is a course or compass direction. Thus, henceforth, my new name is Vector. Always and all ways, Vector Teicher...
In the early 1980s, I worked at Oppenheimer & Co, a medium-size stock brokerage firm. At year-end, employees were evaluated and given bonuses. However, for some, the news was otherwise; they were fired. John, with whom I was friends, was fired. This came quite unexpectedly to John who had envisioned a lifelong career at the firm. John, distraught, took to tears. John's empathetic friends were quick to console him. I didn't. I saw him as selfish, focusing on a small disappointment instead of being grateful for his good fortune relative to 99% of others living on this planet. I eventually came by and congratulated John at now having all sorts of opportunities he hadn't considered before his firing. As well, I thought we could figure a way John might wrangle some termination payments from Oppenheimer. But John would have none of this talk of making the best out of current circumstances. He wanted to continue wallowing in self-pity. He wanted empathy, not compassion. From my perspective, John was not in any immediate financial difficulties. He was a talented guy who could easily find another Wall Street job. As he didn't have a cancer protruding out of his ass, he had much about which to be grateful and happy. His sadness was about being fired, an event that seemed real as the self is obsessed with the past; not letting John accept it as passed. John was a prisoner of his self. That was sad. Empathy is harmful, compassion is helpful. When someone is distraught, it is their self that has upset them. Empathy acknowledges the self's thoughts and feelings which encourages us to take the self seriously, allowing the self to continue wreaking havoc upon us. Alternatively, compassion dismisses the self and efforts to helping others make the best of their circumstances. Simply, empathy is consoling someone who's upset about having lost their job which keeps them from finding a new job and compassion is helping them find a new job....
"The richest person is not the one who has the most but who needs the least." Once we have our basic needs of food, shelter, security and health and have no desires, we do not suffer from selfish distractions in pursuit of things material or otherwise. All that remains is gratitude for what we have and have not, a key to happiness; the purpose of wealth....
"Hard to wake someone who believes their eyes are already open."...
The ten men and the elephant is a parable in many variations from the Indian subcontinent, dating back more than 2,500 years. In a small village in India there were ten men who had heard of but had never seen the greatest animal in the jungle, the elephant. Determined to see an elephant, they hired a guide to lead them to one. After several days of trekking in the jungle, the guide saw an elephant and called forth the ten men. The men approached the elephant and in their excitement each touched a different part of the it. The man who touched its tail said the elephant was like a snake. The man who touched the elephant's leg said the elephant was like a tree trunk. The man who touched the elephant's tusk said it was like a seashell. Each of the ten men described the elephant very differently. Soon the ten men, each insisting that their view of the elephant was right, started to argue and eventually came to blows. Clearly, the ten men were blind and didn't know it. As to the elephant, clearly it is big; bigger than one blind man can imagine it in the context of his pervious experiences. Moreover, the elephant is like the universe itself; having so many facets, it is beyond description; it is what it is whatever it is. The moral of this parable is that (1) as our individual perspectives are limited, we cannot come to know the nature of things. (2) When we are certain of the infallibility of our perceptions, we are blind and don't know it. (3) Things appear quite different up close (as when we are within) than from a distance (when we are without). (4) Our understanding of things is limited when we understand things in the context of our memories of other things. (5) Taking our perceptions too seriously, we make fools of ourselves and at times come to strife. (6) Yet, the audience for this story, the Gods in the form of children, find it funny....
A wise man knows he can change the past by changing his perspective. A fool thinks he can affect the future.....
In January, 2022, during the waning days of the quarantine pandemic (yes, a pandemic of quarantines), I travelled to Japan where strict quarantine protocols were still in effect; upon entering Japan I would be sequestered for three days in a government managed hotel. While I could have delayed the trip until the quarantine was lifted, it seemed fun to experience a quarantine. Given a choice between three days of quarantine and three days of leisure, clearly I'd choose leisure. However, the quarantine didn't seem it would be much of a problem and as 90% of any experience is experiencing oneself, the quarantine like most things would be fun for me. Moreover, the stories my memory could weave out of the quarantine experience would make it fun regardless of what it was at the time. After a 14 hour flight from New York City to Tokyo, I was among a thousand or so people held at Tokyo airport for processing. We were held captive for 15 hours by dozens of police officers and people running around in hazmat suits. Everyone was in operating room mode, all masked up. It felt otherworldly, even in Japan which is already otherworldly. Food rations were limited to the inedible that no dietician would ever recommend; hot dogs, bread, sugary fruit juices. As we were closely packed together, people slept on chairs and floor, a veritable petri dish where a single Covid infected individual could easily spread the virus. At some point, people's street clothes looked like pajamas needing a wash; people became restive. Finally, after extensive testing of secretions from nose to spit and waiting on innumerable lines with paperwork in hand, we were taken to a government hotel and placed in solitary confinement. My room was luxurious from the perspective of anyone living before 1850 or currently in a refugee camp, but otherwise basic. Fortunately, there was a big clock in the room, allowing me to identify breakfast, lunch and dinner as each meal was essentially the same thing, whatever the thing was. I did have the freedom to smoke cigars in the room; though the hotel stopped offering coffee three years back and what's a cigar without a coffee! Entertainment was via cell phone and emails; fun connecting with others who pitied my plight which truly wasn't bad. Ultimately, I'd recommend a quarantine as a good remedy for jetlag. After the quarantine, I returned to the everyday world and typical high points of a trip to Japan; restaurants, onsens, meetings with colorful people, viewing gardens and landscapes and visiting shrines. Today, I hold little memory of those moments, but the odd and peaceful time in quarantine is with me forever. If we can't enjoy a quarantine in a civilized country, how can we enjoy most things....