Currently reading The Looming Tower by Lawrence Wright. This book won a Pulitzer Prize; it basically explains how 9/11 became 9/11, going back the better part of a century to help us understand what has gone on in Egypt, in Afghanistan, in Saudi Arabia, and other parts of the Middle East that foreshadowed where we are today.
In many ways, the book is spooky and forces one to acknowledge that there are two radically different value systems and mindsets out there: one that promotes religious totalitarianism, and one that promotes religious pluralism. There is a traditional mindset and a modern mindset; a mindset that worships freedom and one that is wary of it; one that welcomes diversity and change and one that does not.
In my view, the two biggest obstacles to world peace at the moment would be fundamentalist Islam and fundamentalist Christianity. They are both quite scary. The Looming Tower tells us quite a bit about the Islamic version; Sam Harris's The End of Faith does the same with both Christianity and Islam.
I am afraid that in my lifetime, I will not see organized religion--at least, the fundamentalist versions of it--be reformed in any meaningful way. But someday--maybe a century or two from now--people will read what others believed at this time, and believed with absolute certainty because it was decreed by either God or Allah, and they will shake their heads and mutter in disbelief. For now, however, I must write this from within the "loony bin" that is the world of 2008, and it's truly a more certifiably crazy world than most people seem to think.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Mr. Consistency
Call me Mr. Consistency.
As my countless legions of friends know, distance running is a very big part of my life. I haven't written much about that over the years, but someday I will, because running is a religion for me and I feel a need to proselytize. Running is my time away; it's my way to get in touch with the natural world and my own body (no sleazy jokes, please!); it's my form of meditation; it's my health insurance policy; and along with caffeine, it's my drug-of-choice. In short, running keeps me feeling sane, relaxed, and whole. And, somewhat obsessive person that I am, I have kept fairly careful running records over the years, going back to (gulp) 1975. (Keeping track of all this has been a big motivator!) To date, I have run 17,090 miles, which includes:
• six marathons (26.2 miles)
• five 25K races (15.52 miles)
• twenty half-marathons (13.1 miles)
• four 10-mile races
• three 15K races (9.3 miles)
• seventeen 10K races (6.2 miles) and
• eleven 4-5 mile races
To reinforce my obsessive impulses, my lovely wife bought me a "Garmin" for my last birthday (it goes on your wrist--looks like a rather large wristwatch), which can now tell me, on any run, exactly how many miles I went (to the hundredth of a mile), my exact time, my per-mile pace, my average and top speeds in miles per hour, the number of feet of ascent and descent in the run, the number of calories that I burned, and also provides a map of exactly where I ran (those satellites are spying on all of us anyway--why not use them for this as well?). You want data? I got data.
There will come a time when running is no longer a possiblity (knock on wood), but I continue to hang on to the illusion that I can do this forever. One needs a few illusions, dontcha think?
At any rate, I am getting pretty consistent, though. In late January, I ran the Securian Frozen Half Marathon (the St. Paul Winter Carnival Half Marathon) in 1 hour, 56 minutes, and 47 seconds. Then, last weekend, I ran the New Prague Half Marathon in (drum roll) 1 hour, 56 minutes, and 47 seconds. My, my--I couldn't do that again if I tried! I may not be really fast, but damn, I'm consistent.
As my countless legions of friends know, distance running is a very big part of my life. I haven't written much about that over the years, but someday I will, because running is a religion for me and I feel a need to proselytize. Running is my time away; it's my way to get in touch with the natural world and my own body (no sleazy jokes, please!); it's my form of meditation; it's my health insurance policy; and along with caffeine, it's my drug-of-choice. In short, running keeps me feeling sane, relaxed, and whole. And, somewhat obsessive person that I am, I have kept fairly careful running records over the years, going back to (gulp) 1975. (Keeping track of all this has been a big motivator!) To date, I have run 17,090 miles, which includes:
• six marathons (26.2 miles)
• five 25K races (15.52 miles)
• twenty half-marathons (13.1 miles)
• four 10-mile races
• three 15K races (9.3 miles)
• seventeen 10K races (6.2 miles) and
• eleven 4-5 mile races
To reinforce my obsessive impulses, my lovely wife bought me a "Garmin" for my last birthday (it goes on your wrist--looks like a rather large wristwatch), which can now tell me, on any run, exactly how many miles I went (to the hundredth of a mile), my exact time, my per-mile pace, my average and top speeds in miles per hour, the number of feet of ascent and descent in the run, the number of calories that I burned, and also provides a map of exactly where I ran (those satellites are spying on all of us anyway--why not use them for this as well?). You want data? I got data.
There will come a time when running is no longer a possiblity (knock on wood), but I continue to hang on to the illusion that I can do this forever. One needs a few illusions, dontcha think?
At any rate, I am getting pretty consistent, though. In late January, I ran the Securian Frozen Half Marathon (the St. Paul Winter Carnival Half Marathon) in 1 hour, 56 minutes, and 47 seconds. Then, last weekend, I ran the New Prague Half Marathon in (drum roll) 1 hour, 56 minutes, and 47 seconds. My, my--I couldn't do that again if I tried! I may not be really fast, but damn, I'm consistent.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Star Tribune: an obstacle 93 percent of the time
Well, the Don Quixote of the blogosphere (that's me) continues to tilt against the windmills of the world. Anyone who knows me (but who REALLY knows me? I have a secret life that involves azaleas, model railroading, and nipple rings) also knows that I have "had it up to here," as they say, with people who purport to know about nonverbal communication. Dr. Phil actually told Larry King on the air (on Larry King Live) that "communication is 93 percent nonverbal." Dr. Phil was spreading (like cheap manure) the most famous set of false statistics in my field: that the meaning in a message is "7 percent verbal, 38 percent vocal, and 55 percent facial." As I have demonstrated in two different articles (I will spare you THOSE details), these numbers are wrong, misleading, bogus, faux, and any other synonym you can provide.
Enter the Star Tribune, which, on May 5, had as its lead article in its "Source" (variety) section, "Bodies at work." Big 48-point headline. Big colorful graphics. And an article that begins with a big, big lie. Alison Grant, the Newhouse News Service writer, tells us in the 4th paragraph that "A classic 1971 study by UCLA psychologist Albert Mehrabian showed that less than 10 percent of what audience members remembered from a speaker was verbal. About a third of the impact came from tone of voice. The rest, more than half the recall, involved body language--gestures, facial expressions, posture, movements." That prompted me to send the newspaper this letter:
Dear Star Tribune:
It is often painful to read about "nonverbal communication" from people who claim to have knowledge about the subject but really don't. In the Source section of the May 5 Star Tribune ("Bodies at work," by Newhouse News Service writer Alison Grant), it is stated that "A classic 1971 study by UCLA psychologist Albert Mehrabian showed that less than 10 percent of what audience members remembered from a speaker was verbal," implying that roughly 90 percent of a message's meaning is nonverbal. That is simply not true.
First, the two studies that arrived at these numbers are from 1967, not 1971. Second, the key study involved only 37 female psychology majors at UCLA reacting to a situation that essentially forced these women to pay more attention to the nonverbal message because the verbal stimulus was limited to but one word: the word "maybe." Third, the study was not a test of what "audience members remembered," but how they judged the feelings of the speaker. And with only one word to react to--"maybe"--it should come as no surprise that these laboratory subjects paid more attention to the speaker's tone of voice and facial expression to determine the speaker's feelings. There are other inaccuracies in this article as well about Mehrabian's line of research, but I will leave it at that for now.
The bottom line is this: there is no magical formula that can precisely express the relative importance of the verbal and nonverbal messages in any given situation. The percentages from the Mehrabian research are widely cited, but they are a type of "urban legend." And if you don't believe me when I say that words can count for more than 10 percent of the total meaning in a message, try calling your best friend a "big fat selfish pig" in a very calm voice with a gentle smile on your face and see if they actually pay more attention to "body language."
David Lapakko, Ph.D.
Associate Professor, Dept. of Communication Studies
Augsburg College
So there, I say! This letter did not meet the Star Tribune's high standards and was not published. But the letter does meet my standards (read: none whatsoever). Once again the local newspaper cannot stop me, although I'm beginning to develop a little psychological complex. I hope I am not turning into that slightly deranged guy you see in our urban centers, aimlessly walking about and muttering to any stranger who will make eye contact with him--and even any stranger who won't! I may be 93 percent crazy, but I hang on to that 7 percent of the time when I can be normal and lucid. Pass my meds over to me, please!
Enter the Star Tribune, which, on May 5, had as its lead article in its "Source" (variety) section, "Bodies at work." Big 48-point headline. Big colorful graphics. And an article that begins with a big, big lie. Alison Grant, the Newhouse News Service writer, tells us in the 4th paragraph that "A classic 1971 study by UCLA psychologist Albert Mehrabian showed that less than 10 percent of what audience members remembered from a speaker was verbal. About a third of the impact came from tone of voice. The rest, more than half the recall, involved body language--gestures, facial expressions, posture, movements." That prompted me to send the newspaper this letter:
Dear Star Tribune:
It is often painful to read about "nonverbal communication" from people who claim to have knowledge about the subject but really don't. In the Source section of the May 5 Star Tribune ("Bodies at work," by Newhouse News Service writer Alison Grant), it is stated that "A classic 1971 study by UCLA psychologist Albert Mehrabian showed that less than 10 percent of what audience members remembered from a speaker was verbal," implying that roughly 90 percent of a message's meaning is nonverbal. That is simply not true.
First, the two studies that arrived at these numbers are from 1967, not 1971. Second, the key study involved only 37 female psychology majors at UCLA reacting to a situation that essentially forced these women to pay more attention to the nonverbal message because the verbal stimulus was limited to but one word: the word "maybe." Third, the study was not a test of what "audience members remembered," but how they judged the feelings of the speaker. And with only one word to react to--"maybe"--it should come as no surprise that these laboratory subjects paid more attention to the speaker's tone of voice and facial expression to determine the speaker's feelings. There are other inaccuracies in this article as well about Mehrabian's line of research, but I will leave it at that for now.
The bottom line is this: there is no magical formula that can precisely express the relative importance of the verbal and nonverbal messages in any given situation. The percentages from the Mehrabian research are widely cited, but they are a type of "urban legend." And if you don't believe me when I say that words can count for more than 10 percent of the total meaning in a message, try calling your best friend a "big fat selfish pig" in a very calm voice with a gentle smile on your face and see if they actually pay more attention to "body language."
David Lapakko, Ph.D.
Associate Professor, Dept. of Communication Studies
Augsburg College
So there, I say! This letter did not meet the Star Tribune's high standards and was not published. But the letter does meet my standards (read: none whatsoever). Once again the local newspaper cannot stop me, although I'm beginning to develop a little psychological complex. I hope I am not turning into that slightly deranged guy you see in our urban centers, aimlessly walking about and muttering to any stranger who will make eye contact with him--and even any stranger who won't! I may be 93 percent crazy, but I hang on to that 7 percent of the time when I can be normal and lucid. Pass my meds over to me, please!
Monday, April 14, 2008
Let's not be average
What the hey! Contentious Introvert has become a dumping ground for any piece of prose that I've cobbled together at some point along the way. Ergo, I've pasted in, below, the FULL TEXT of an essay written for the Augsburg Echo, our local campus newspaper. I emphasize "full text." In their effort to make this piece fit into exactly two columns of newsprint, the editors decided to axe a few phrases and sentences--most notably, they didn't print the quotation that OPENS the piece! So, when reading it in the student newspaper, there's a reference to that quotation in the first paragraph--but there ain't no quotation! Some people must have thought that I was a little loopy--who is "Ledru-Rollin," they must have wondered. At least here, on my own blog, I can make sure that the 2 or 3 people who read this in the next 20 years will at least have the correct version. Ah, the sweet smell? taste? of vindication.
"LET'S NOT BE AVERAGE"
David Lapakko
Dept. of Communication Studies
“There go the people. I must follow them for I am their leader.” - Alexandre Ledru-Rollin
Contrary to popular belief, leadership is not all that it is cracked up to be. Yes, it has its perks, but the life of a leader can be both lonely and frustrating. It’s lonely because you can feel that no one understands you, yet you are responsible for things, and people think that you can make even more things happen because “you’re in charge.” And it’s frustrating because leaders are not as powerful as they would like to be; as Ledru-Rollin indicates, often you can only take people as far as they are willing to go. (I might like to assign six books and eight major papers in each of my courses, but that simply wouldn’t fly!)
Enter President Pribbenow. I don’t know that he feels especially lonely, but I’m sure he can feel the limits to his power. Heading up any organization is a bit like piloting a giant iceberg—you hope to nudge it a bit in the right direction, but the iceberg can be very obstinate. Yet in the midst of all this, people must try to lead. In that sense, I do not envy our President; he has a job that is inherently challenging.
Part of leadership is providing a vision, a mission, a set of goals. In a March “all hands” meeting held in the chapel, President Pribbenow tried to lay out such a vision. It was perhaps a bit much to process in a mere 30 minutes, but his PowerPoint presentation tried very hard to explain where the college is and where he wants it to be many years from now.
However, the President’s audience was not necessarily fixated on what the campus might look like in the year 2020; it’s probably good that it was on his mind, but it wasn’t on theirs. The concerns of faculty and staff are at the moment much more immediate. People have lost their jobs. Other people worry that they might lose theirs. Others sense that the “corporate” mindset has so overtaken more humane approaches to organizing that Augsburg will never be the same. And for a college that should be celebrating “abundance” (a popular word these days), it’s not clear how we are going to find enough money to construct a new science building, much less all the other buildings that are dreamt about in the future. These are the concerns of people on campus right here and now.
In his presentation, the President made more than one reference to his vision that Augsburg should be “nimble and entrepreneurial.” Don’t get me wrong, nimble is good. Entrepreneurial is good. But this is modern corporate business lingo; it’s not geared toward human relations. I can assure you that no one who feels happy and proud to work at Augsburg is going to say, “I love my job because we are so nimble and entrepreneurial.”
To his credit, the President does seem to realize that there are some fairly normal and inevitable tensions on campus, and disagreements about certain decisions—most notably, the decision to keep the college open between Christmas and New Year’s. And, he claims to be hearing and even listening to these concerns. The problem, however, is that listening can seem a little hollow if you aren’t prepared to do something meaningful in response. Near as I can tell, the President’s stance seems to be, “I am listening to you, and I respect your concerns, but I disagree with you, and so that’s that.”
In the case of our staff people, I believe that the President missed a great opportunity to score a few precious points. If he had started the March all-hands meeting with an announcement that he had re-considered the decision to keep the college open the last week of December, many might have felt even a bit triumphant. Symbolically, such a move would say to them, “I really do listen, and I really do care, and I am even willing to tacitly concede that I didn’t make the most appropriate decision.” In the end, no member of any community wants or expects their leaders to be perfect. What they expect—especially at a small Christian school where “caritas” is supposed to be more than a funny Latin word—is a culture and a climate that truly supports and celebrates the people who are here. “Nimble” and “entrepreneurial” can’t be the rallying cry, even if they are both virtues from a corporate perspective.
For me, what can and does make Augsburg special has nothing to do with being entrepreneurial. It may seem inconsequential, but I feel most proud of this place when I consider the individual people who are here. For example, as many of us know, there is a gregarious fellow who eats in the dining commons every day but is neither a student nor an employee; that he is welcome here makes me proud. Among our students is a woman who was actually willing to donate a portion of her liver to a total stranger; that makes me proud. In our copy center is a woman who will perform amazing 55-word stories for you on command; I’m proud to know her, too. In the end, it all comes down to people--not blueprints, floor plans, or an array of PowerPoint slides.
The modern organizational world—including Augsburg’s--is quite friendly on a superficial level, but underneath it all is a sort of dehumanization and dysfunction that can be so suppressed that we hardly realize it is there. Rather than trying to merely reflect the standard practices of the corporate world, Augsburg, as an educational institution grounded in the liberal arts and the Christian church, has the opportunity to create an organizational culture and climate that can rise above the rest. What we want is for people to feel privileged to even be in this environment—to feel that they are the luckiest employees on the planet. That’s a lofty goal, but one that is worth pursuing, right along with tons of money to build the new science building; the two goals are not necessarily incompatible.
I would also remind the President that when it comes to “human resources,” we have a lot of them on this campus, and they can potentially be very helpful to him and to the college. We have our Enormous Cash Cow, the Department of Business Administration, staffed with many people who have considerable business acumen. We have an MBA program and an MAL program that prepare graduate students for leadership in the 21st century; people on this campus teach about leadership and management every single day. And (dare I say it?) we have a Department of Communication Studies that devotes itself to the construction and interpretation of symbols and messages, whether those messages are one-to-one, one-to-many, verbal or nonverbal, written, oral, or electronic. Although many on campus already feel burdened in their work, they would also be flattered to be invited to come to the table and share their perspectives on issues facing the college. Obviously, nobody has all the answers, nor even necessarily the same answers, but we have helpful resources right here on campus.
Leadership is seldom easy. Augsburg’s leadership over the years has hardly been inept or mean-spirited. But now and in the past, I am keenly aware of what is possible, and I don’t want the college to settle for what’s “normal.” If you want to talk “vocation,” one part of our vocation should be to feel a calling to transform our world of work and let that transformation be a model for others to admire and to emulate.
"LET'S NOT BE AVERAGE"
David Lapakko
Dept. of Communication Studies
“There go the people. I must follow them for I am their leader.” - Alexandre Ledru-Rollin
Contrary to popular belief, leadership is not all that it is cracked up to be. Yes, it has its perks, but the life of a leader can be both lonely and frustrating. It’s lonely because you can feel that no one understands you, yet you are responsible for things, and people think that you can make even more things happen because “you’re in charge.” And it’s frustrating because leaders are not as powerful as they would like to be; as Ledru-Rollin indicates, often you can only take people as far as they are willing to go. (I might like to assign six books and eight major papers in each of my courses, but that simply wouldn’t fly!)
Enter President Pribbenow. I don’t know that he feels especially lonely, but I’m sure he can feel the limits to his power. Heading up any organization is a bit like piloting a giant iceberg—you hope to nudge it a bit in the right direction, but the iceberg can be very obstinate. Yet in the midst of all this, people must try to lead. In that sense, I do not envy our President; he has a job that is inherently challenging.
Part of leadership is providing a vision, a mission, a set of goals. In a March “all hands” meeting held in the chapel, President Pribbenow tried to lay out such a vision. It was perhaps a bit much to process in a mere 30 minutes, but his PowerPoint presentation tried very hard to explain where the college is and where he wants it to be many years from now.
However, the President’s audience was not necessarily fixated on what the campus might look like in the year 2020; it’s probably good that it was on his mind, but it wasn’t on theirs. The concerns of faculty and staff are at the moment much more immediate. People have lost their jobs. Other people worry that they might lose theirs. Others sense that the “corporate” mindset has so overtaken more humane approaches to organizing that Augsburg will never be the same. And for a college that should be celebrating “abundance” (a popular word these days), it’s not clear how we are going to find enough money to construct a new science building, much less all the other buildings that are dreamt about in the future. These are the concerns of people on campus right here and now.
In his presentation, the President made more than one reference to his vision that Augsburg should be “nimble and entrepreneurial.” Don’t get me wrong, nimble is good. Entrepreneurial is good. But this is modern corporate business lingo; it’s not geared toward human relations. I can assure you that no one who feels happy and proud to work at Augsburg is going to say, “I love my job because we are so nimble and entrepreneurial.”
To his credit, the President does seem to realize that there are some fairly normal and inevitable tensions on campus, and disagreements about certain decisions—most notably, the decision to keep the college open between Christmas and New Year’s. And, he claims to be hearing and even listening to these concerns. The problem, however, is that listening can seem a little hollow if you aren’t prepared to do something meaningful in response. Near as I can tell, the President’s stance seems to be, “I am listening to you, and I respect your concerns, but I disagree with you, and so that’s that.”
In the case of our staff people, I believe that the President missed a great opportunity to score a few precious points. If he had started the March all-hands meeting with an announcement that he had re-considered the decision to keep the college open the last week of December, many might have felt even a bit triumphant. Symbolically, such a move would say to them, “I really do listen, and I really do care, and I am even willing to tacitly concede that I didn’t make the most appropriate decision.” In the end, no member of any community wants or expects their leaders to be perfect. What they expect—especially at a small Christian school where “caritas” is supposed to be more than a funny Latin word—is a culture and a climate that truly supports and celebrates the people who are here. “Nimble” and “entrepreneurial” can’t be the rallying cry, even if they are both virtues from a corporate perspective.
For me, what can and does make Augsburg special has nothing to do with being entrepreneurial. It may seem inconsequential, but I feel most proud of this place when I consider the individual people who are here. For example, as many of us know, there is a gregarious fellow who eats in the dining commons every day but is neither a student nor an employee; that he is welcome here makes me proud. Among our students is a woman who was actually willing to donate a portion of her liver to a total stranger; that makes me proud. In our copy center is a woman who will perform amazing 55-word stories for you on command; I’m proud to know her, too. In the end, it all comes down to people--not blueprints, floor plans, or an array of PowerPoint slides.
The modern organizational world—including Augsburg’s--is quite friendly on a superficial level, but underneath it all is a sort of dehumanization and dysfunction that can be so suppressed that we hardly realize it is there. Rather than trying to merely reflect the standard practices of the corporate world, Augsburg, as an educational institution grounded in the liberal arts and the Christian church, has the opportunity to create an organizational culture and climate that can rise above the rest. What we want is for people to feel privileged to even be in this environment—to feel that they are the luckiest employees on the planet. That’s a lofty goal, but one that is worth pursuing, right along with tons of money to build the new science building; the two goals are not necessarily incompatible.
I would also remind the President that when it comes to “human resources,” we have a lot of them on this campus, and they can potentially be very helpful to him and to the college. We have our Enormous Cash Cow, the Department of Business Administration, staffed with many people who have considerable business acumen. We have an MBA program and an MAL program that prepare graduate students for leadership in the 21st century; people on this campus teach about leadership and management every single day. And (dare I say it?) we have a Department of Communication Studies that devotes itself to the construction and interpretation of symbols and messages, whether those messages are one-to-one, one-to-many, verbal or nonverbal, written, oral, or electronic. Although many on campus already feel burdened in their work, they would also be flattered to be invited to come to the table and share their perspectives on issues facing the college. Obviously, nobody has all the answers, nor even necessarily the same answers, but we have helpful resources right here on campus.
Leadership is seldom easy. Augsburg’s leadership over the years has hardly been inept or mean-spirited. But now and in the past, I am keenly aware of what is possible, and I don’t want the college to settle for what’s “normal.” If you want to talk “vocation,” one part of our vocation should be to feel a calling to transform our world of work and let that transformation be a model for others to admire and to emulate.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
STILL raising your body's light vibration!
Since my colleague Kristen Chamberlain (of "Showering With Sharks" blog fame) is writing about food these days, I thought I'd follow her lead--although all of this may fall into the "more than you really want to know" category!
For 16 months in the late '70s (Kristen was not yet even a gleam in her mom and dad's eyes at that time), I lived in Venice, California, a half-block off of the Pacific and an amazing display of humanity on parade. While in L.A., I dined at a "natural foods" restaurant in the Topanga area, which is not far from Malibu and resonates with "new age/hippie" vibes. The establishment was called The Inn of the Seventh Ray. The menu was so pretentious and bizarre that I took one home with me, wrote an article about the place, mailed it to the (then) Minneapolis Tribune--and lo and behold, they published it in the food section of the paper on October 19, 1978. (I even got 30 whole bucks for that piece!) Included above the article was a cartoon by a staff artist--it showed two of the Inn's patrons floating away from their table; they are both almost out of the frame. One says to the other, "Quick John! Spit out that artichoke and grab a leg of lamb!" (Why, you ask? Keep reading!) Here's the Tribune article in its entirety:
MYSTICAL L.A. RESTAURANT EMPHASIZES 'LIGHT VIBRATION'
By David Lapakko
"We at the Inn of the Seventh Ray believe in giving you the purest of nature's energized foods--with a dash of esoteric food knowledge thrown in to raise your body's light vibration."
So begins the menu at a Topanga natural foods restaurant, where the New Era of Food Consciousness seems to have advanced to a stage of mundane earnestness befitting southern California.
The Topanga area, on the western edge of Los Angeles, is known for its devotion to the mystical. The night of my visit, a bookstore nearby featured an autograph session with a distinguished but obscure author who possessed nothing less than heavy karma. His trip? Praying with two loved ones in a triangular formation, which releases simply magical energies. "Wow--this stuff is really advanced!" someone marveled while flipping through the pages of his latest work.
Eating in Topanga has become really advanced, too, as the Inn of the Seventh Ray testifies. The menu tells us that "the lightest and least dense foods are listed in order of their esoteric vibrational value for your experimentation." The meaning of that sentence, despite a fairly rigorous five years at Macalester College in St. Paul, still eludes me. But then, Topanga deals in more than mere education: "Awareness" seems to be "what's really happening."
I was able to surmise, however, that vegetables are less dense than meats, for they are listed first on the Inn's menu. "Five Secret Rays," at the top, are vegies from the Inn's "master steamer." "Artichoke Queen of Light," the next entree, verges on the gastronomically sublime: It is "a green crown of starry organic gems with the center removed and replaced with a culinary masterpiece of white fire tofu and sesame seed filling laced with ginger and sprinkled with the freshest of chives--very high and light."
The "Gold Chalice," next on the bill of fare, raised my food consciousness to the pinnacle of nirvana: "a cup of acorn squah filled to the lip with Saint Germain's own alchemy-blend of the freshest of herb stuffing with an unusual base of millet and steamed in our master's own steamer to an exact alchemical formula for transmutation into gold energy."
Believe me--I wish I were only making all this up.
I finally settled for the "Om-ri-tas," largely because it came "direct from the violet planet, a spaceship of nature's perfect vessel." This translated to half an eggplant stuffed with olives, nuts, and "unusual cheeses," which were all carefully married in a white wine sauce--"for your transportation."
The next morning, I discovered that the "Om-ri-tas" was not so carefully married to my gastrointestinal tract.
Prices at the Inn are not out of line for Los Angeles, in other words, occasionally higher than the Twin Cities. But if my wallet stood in the way, the management offered this consolation: "It will cost slightly more, but we believe in the long run it will be much less expensive and your body will work more efficiently and we hope your consciousness will become awakened."
Altogether, the Inn of the Seventh Ray makes Minneapolis' Prashad Kitchen (3515 W. 44th St.) seem like just another branch of Mickey's Diner.
But that is because no place can compete with the Inn when it comes to cosmic food awareness. As the front of the menu proclaims: "Dining creekside in old Topanga next to the mother flow of water at the Inn of the Seventh Ray is a unique and different experience. We want you to rest unhurried and soak up Saint Germain's violet ray, and to experience a timelessness of what can be the coming culture of the Golden Age."
Now that's dining experience too heavy for words.
David Lapakko is a free-lance writer from Los Angeles.
End of story, right? No way, Jose. Just tonight it occurred to me: whatever happened to the Inn of the Seventh Ray? I was there almost 30 years ago! Surely this place must have bitten the cosmic dust by now, somehow vibrating itself into oblivion. So, I went to yahoo search and discovered that the Inn is still around, with all of its charm! Whoda thunk it? Not only that, but when I went to the Inn's website (yes, everybody has a website these days), I found the following information (emphasis added):
"The property was discovered by the present owners and restored to it’s [sic] natural beauty, Over the passing years the restaurant has become known as one of the places to go. We, at the Inn, believe in giving you the purest of Nature’s foods, energized as a gift from the sun with a dash of esoteric food knowledge and ancient mystery school wisdom tossed in for your seasoning and pleasure. It may just raise your body’s light vibration and the extra work may cost you a few pennies more, but we believe in the long run, this way of living and eating may prove less expensive. Your body elemental, that selfless, shy, invisible little fellow who works so hard to keep the oft mistreated human machine going, will jump with joy for your choice of this eating establishment. He prays and hopes you will return soon to make this a pleasant ritual with each return being a new celebration in honor of taking a small step on the path of good dinning [sic] and good doing." [sic, sic, sick!]
Yes, some things have changed there. The photos on the website make it look a little more "upscale" than I remember. And they're serving some new entrees, such as "Handcrafted Vegan Mascarpone Ravioli," "Black Trumpet Dusted Ahi Tuna" (didn't know trumpets could even DO that!), and "Pomegranate Lacquered Muscovy Duck Breast." Suffice it to say that this place is still out of my league; I may never achieve the state of enlightenment that would enable me to eat there on a regular basis. But nonetheless, it all brought back fond memories.
For 16 months in the late '70s (Kristen was not yet even a gleam in her mom and dad's eyes at that time), I lived in Venice, California, a half-block off of the Pacific and an amazing display of humanity on parade. While in L.A., I dined at a "natural foods" restaurant in the Topanga area, which is not far from Malibu and resonates with "new age/hippie" vibes. The establishment was called The Inn of the Seventh Ray. The menu was so pretentious and bizarre that I took one home with me, wrote an article about the place, mailed it to the (then) Minneapolis Tribune--and lo and behold, they published it in the food section of the paper on October 19, 1978. (I even got 30 whole bucks for that piece!) Included above the article was a cartoon by a staff artist--it showed two of the Inn's patrons floating away from their table; they are both almost out of the frame. One says to the other, "Quick John! Spit out that artichoke and grab a leg of lamb!" (Why, you ask? Keep reading!) Here's the Tribune article in its entirety:
MYSTICAL L.A. RESTAURANT EMPHASIZES 'LIGHT VIBRATION'
By David Lapakko
"We at the Inn of the Seventh Ray believe in giving you the purest of nature's energized foods--with a dash of esoteric food knowledge thrown in to raise your body's light vibration."
So begins the menu at a Topanga natural foods restaurant, where the New Era of Food Consciousness seems to have advanced to a stage of mundane earnestness befitting southern California.
The Topanga area, on the western edge of Los Angeles, is known for its devotion to the mystical. The night of my visit, a bookstore nearby featured an autograph session with a distinguished but obscure author who possessed nothing less than heavy karma. His trip? Praying with two loved ones in a triangular formation, which releases simply magical energies. "Wow--this stuff is really advanced!" someone marveled while flipping through the pages of his latest work.
Eating in Topanga has become really advanced, too, as the Inn of the Seventh Ray testifies. The menu tells us that "the lightest and least dense foods are listed in order of their esoteric vibrational value for your experimentation." The meaning of that sentence, despite a fairly rigorous five years at Macalester College in St. Paul, still eludes me. But then, Topanga deals in more than mere education: "Awareness" seems to be "what's really happening."
I was able to surmise, however, that vegetables are less dense than meats, for they are listed first on the Inn's menu. "Five Secret Rays," at the top, are vegies from the Inn's "master steamer." "Artichoke Queen of Light," the next entree, verges on the gastronomically sublime: It is "a green crown of starry organic gems with the center removed and replaced with a culinary masterpiece of white fire tofu and sesame seed filling laced with ginger and sprinkled with the freshest of chives--very high and light."
The "Gold Chalice," next on the bill of fare, raised my food consciousness to the pinnacle of nirvana: "a cup of acorn squah filled to the lip with Saint Germain's own alchemy-blend of the freshest of herb stuffing with an unusual base of millet and steamed in our master's own steamer to an exact alchemical formula for transmutation into gold energy."
Believe me--I wish I were only making all this up.
I finally settled for the "Om-ri-tas," largely because it came "direct from the violet planet, a spaceship of nature's perfect vessel." This translated to half an eggplant stuffed with olives, nuts, and "unusual cheeses," which were all carefully married in a white wine sauce--"for your transportation."
The next morning, I discovered that the "Om-ri-tas" was not so carefully married to my gastrointestinal tract.
Prices at the Inn are not out of line for Los Angeles, in other words, occasionally higher than the Twin Cities. But if my wallet stood in the way, the management offered this consolation: "It will cost slightly more, but we believe in the long run it will be much less expensive and your body will work more efficiently and we hope your consciousness will become awakened."
Altogether, the Inn of the Seventh Ray makes Minneapolis' Prashad Kitchen (3515 W. 44th St.) seem like just another branch of Mickey's Diner.
But that is because no place can compete with the Inn when it comes to cosmic food awareness. As the front of the menu proclaims: "Dining creekside in old Topanga next to the mother flow of water at the Inn of the Seventh Ray is a unique and different experience. We want you to rest unhurried and soak up Saint Germain's violet ray, and to experience a timelessness of what can be the coming culture of the Golden Age."
Now that's dining experience too heavy for words.
David Lapakko is a free-lance writer from Los Angeles.
End of story, right? No way, Jose. Just tonight it occurred to me: whatever happened to the Inn of the Seventh Ray? I was there almost 30 years ago! Surely this place must have bitten the cosmic dust by now, somehow vibrating itself into oblivion. So, I went to yahoo search and discovered that the Inn is still around, with all of its charm! Whoda thunk it? Not only that, but when I went to the Inn's website (yes, everybody has a website these days), I found the following information (emphasis added):
"The property was discovered by the present owners and restored to it’s [sic] natural beauty, Over the passing years the restaurant has become known as one of the places to go. We, at the Inn, believe in giving you the purest of Nature’s foods, energized as a gift from the sun with a dash of esoteric food knowledge and ancient mystery school wisdom tossed in for your seasoning and pleasure. It may just raise your body’s light vibration and the extra work may cost you a few pennies more, but we believe in the long run, this way of living and eating may prove less expensive. Your body elemental, that selfless, shy, invisible little fellow who works so hard to keep the oft mistreated human machine going, will jump with joy for your choice of this eating establishment. He prays and hopes you will return soon to make this a pleasant ritual with each return being a new celebration in honor of taking a small step on the path of good dinning [sic] and good doing." [sic, sic, sick!]
Yes, some things have changed there. The photos on the website make it look a little more "upscale" than I remember. And they're serving some new entrees, such as "Handcrafted Vegan Mascarpone Ravioli," "Black Trumpet Dusted Ahi Tuna" (didn't know trumpets could even DO that!), and "Pomegranate Lacquered Muscovy Duck Breast." Suffice it to say that this place is still out of my league; I may never achieve the state of enlightenment that would enable me to eat there on a regular basis. But nonetheless, it all brought back fond memories.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Star Tribune editors can't stop me!
Ya think that maybe I'm developing some sort of complex? A feeling of being neglected and discomfirmed? When Lapakko writes something, he expects it to be published! After all, who could possibly say it better? Well, I guess Alison Rasch of St. Paul can say it better, because the Star Tribune chose her letter to the editor over mine on the same subject. And actually, looking at both letters, hers may have been the better choice.
Context: A guy from Eden Prairie writes a whiny letter on March 19 complaining about those "photo cops" that can nab a motorist for moving violations. Here's the text of his letter:
I was one of the drivers who was ticketed by photo cop before the law was suspended. Photo cop does a great job of enforcing the law. But there is a huge difference between speeding through a red light at 40 miles per hour and making a "rolling stop" while taking a right on red (my offense).
Practically no one comes to a complete stop before turning right--assuming there is no oncoming traffic. It doesn't make sense to waste gas, brake linings and time just to fulfill the letter of the law when the spirit of the law is to prevent accidents. Yield signs already exist to remind drivers that cross traffic has the right of way. The law for right turns should be changed to "yield" rather than "complete stop" at most red lights. Otherwise, the law will be subjectively enforced (which is what photo cop is designed to prevent) and a lot of fines will be levied that will do nothing to prevent accidents.
Now I don't know about you, but I thought this guy seems to have some "entitlement issues." Heaven forbid that he should actually have to stop at a red light before turning! Such a huge waste of time, gas, and brake linings! And so I submitted the following letter to the StarTrib:
A March 19 letter writer has the gall to rationalize his failure to come to a complete stop at a “right turn on red.” He asserts that “practically no one comes to a complete stop before turning right.” He whines that having to stop before turning “wastes gas, brake linings and time.” And he claims that the current law is “subjectively enforced.”
Translation: this guy really doesn’t understand the law or why it is there in the first place. Yes, I do see people flaunting this rule from time to time, treating the red light as if it were a yellow one. But most people do follow the law, and they should, for safety reasons. Cars--and pedestrians--are moving in each direction; one needs to actually stop and look for them. Some people simply regard the red light as an annoyance, but I’ve seen impatient, careless right-turners create safety issues many times. And I don’t feel great sympathy for the loss of maybe two seconds of time and a ridiculously inconsequential amount of gas. And wear on brake linings? Give ME a break!
The letter-writer suggests that the right turn on red should be changed to “yield.” He implies that this would eliminate “subjective enforcement.” But in some ways, that makes for an even murkier law: now we would have to make a judgment as to whether someone did in fact “yield” or did in fact need to yield. To me, that’s even more subjective, and if the letter-writer actually thought about that a little bit, he’d realize it as well.
David Lapakko, Richfield, MN
OK, maybe it was a little nasty, and maybe it wasn't focused on the "photo cop" issue. But I thought it was worth printing. Still, the letters editor chose instead to publish the following letter from the aforementioned Alison Rasch:
A March 19 letter writer from Eden Prairie is angry that he was nabbed for not stopping at a red light before turning right ("Photo cop/It's too strict"). He believes the law that requires a driver to come to a full stop is "too strict" and "doesn't make sense."
If his contention is that the spirit of the law is to prevent accidents, he might consider that stopping and looking before proceedings will prevent him from running over pedestrians and bikers who may be out of his line of vision.
As a walker and bike-commuter, I am so glad I don't live in Eden Prairie and have to risk being smacked by this self-centered driver, who seems more concerned about wear and tear on his car than the safety of those who share the road with him.
Alison Rasch, St. Paul
Good goin', Alison! In the end, her letter was slightly more concise, slightly more polite, and dealt with the important biker/pedestrian issue in a nice "personal" way. I can see why if, they only had to publish one letter on this subject, that they would have published hers.
And so, the howling wolf/contentious introvert (that's me) keeps plugging along, hoping that I don't have to do something really weird (like sit on a toilet for TWO YEARS--now that's quite the story; look it up if you don't know what I'm referring to) in order to gain the attention of our mass media. This blog is a medium, but seriously, could we put the word "mass" in front of it? I think there have to be at least two or three readers for it to qualify as such!
Context: A guy from Eden Prairie writes a whiny letter on March 19 complaining about those "photo cops" that can nab a motorist for moving violations. Here's the text of his letter:
I was one of the drivers who was ticketed by photo cop before the law was suspended. Photo cop does a great job of enforcing the law. But there is a huge difference between speeding through a red light at 40 miles per hour and making a "rolling stop" while taking a right on red (my offense).
Practically no one comes to a complete stop before turning right--assuming there is no oncoming traffic. It doesn't make sense to waste gas, brake linings and time just to fulfill the letter of the law when the spirit of the law is to prevent accidents. Yield signs already exist to remind drivers that cross traffic has the right of way. The law for right turns should be changed to "yield" rather than "complete stop" at most red lights. Otherwise, the law will be subjectively enforced (which is what photo cop is designed to prevent) and a lot of fines will be levied that will do nothing to prevent accidents.
Now I don't know about you, but I thought this guy seems to have some "entitlement issues." Heaven forbid that he should actually have to stop at a red light before turning! Such a huge waste of time, gas, and brake linings! And so I submitted the following letter to the StarTrib:
A March 19 letter writer has the gall to rationalize his failure to come to a complete stop at a “right turn on red.” He asserts that “practically no one comes to a complete stop before turning right.” He whines that having to stop before turning “wastes gas, brake linings and time.” And he claims that the current law is “subjectively enforced.”
Translation: this guy really doesn’t understand the law or why it is there in the first place. Yes, I do see people flaunting this rule from time to time, treating the red light as if it were a yellow one. But most people do follow the law, and they should, for safety reasons. Cars--and pedestrians--are moving in each direction; one needs to actually stop and look for them. Some people simply regard the red light as an annoyance, but I’ve seen impatient, careless right-turners create safety issues many times. And I don’t feel great sympathy for the loss of maybe two seconds of time and a ridiculously inconsequential amount of gas. And wear on brake linings? Give ME a break!
The letter-writer suggests that the right turn on red should be changed to “yield.” He implies that this would eliminate “subjective enforcement.” But in some ways, that makes for an even murkier law: now we would have to make a judgment as to whether someone did in fact “yield” or did in fact need to yield. To me, that’s even more subjective, and if the letter-writer actually thought about that a little bit, he’d realize it as well.
David Lapakko, Richfield, MN
OK, maybe it was a little nasty, and maybe it wasn't focused on the "photo cop" issue. But I thought it was worth printing. Still, the letters editor chose instead to publish the following letter from the aforementioned Alison Rasch:
A March 19 letter writer from Eden Prairie is angry that he was nabbed for not stopping at a red light before turning right ("Photo cop/It's too strict"). He believes the law that requires a driver to come to a full stop is "too strict" and "doesn't make sense."
If his contention is that the spirit of the law is to prevent accidents, he might consider that stopping and looking before proceedings will prevent him from running over pedestrians and bikers who may be out of his line of vision.
As a walker and bike-commuter, I am so glad I don't live in Eden Prairie and have to risk being smacked by this self-centered driver, who seems more concerned about wear and tear on his car than the safety of those who share the road with him.
Alison Rasch, St. Paul
Good goin', Alison! In the end, her letter was slightly more concise, slightly more polite, and dealt with the important biker/pedestrian issue in a nice "personal" way. I can see why if, they only had to publish one letter on this subject, that they would have published hers.
And so, the howling wolf/contentious introvert (that's me) keeps plugging along, hoping that I don't have to do something really weird (like sit on a toilet for TWO YEARS--now that's quite the story; look it up if you don't know what I'm referring to) in order to gain the attention of our mass media. This blog is a medium, but seriously, could we put the word "mass" in front of it? I think there have to be at least two or three readers for it to qualify as such!
Saturday, March 8, 2008
These are a few of my favorite things
A reader from Cincinnati, OH writes, "Hey Dave--what are some of your favorite things?" Glad you asked. (And I'm especially glad to know that someone in Cincinnati is, well, MIGHT be reading this stuff--I don't actually know that for a fact, as they say. OK, it's just a bald-faced lie.)
• Favorite color: green, in most forms
• Favorite season: spring (I'd make every day about May 10th if I could)
• Favorite classical music ending: tie between "The Pines of Rome" by Respighi, "The Firebird Suite" by Stravinsky, and Mahler's First Symphony (The "Titan")
• Favorite movie: really, when all is said and done, "Ordinary People"
• Favorite race distance: the half marathon, of course!
• Favorite running venue: Lake Harriet in Minneapolis
• Favorite running shoe brand: New Balance (love them 2Es)
• Favorite lack-of-impulse-control food: pizza, in any form
• Favorite early Beatles' song: If I Fell in Love With You
• Favorite late Beatles' song: The Long and Winding Road
• Favorite Marx brother: after Karl, probably Harpo
• Favorite holiday: Thanksgiving, hands down
• Favorite hand lotion: Lubriderm, unscented
• Favorite female vocalist: always had a crush on Linda Ronstadt, until I heard her speak in a normal voice!
• Favorite obscure oldies' song: "Will You Be Staying After Sunday" by the Peppermint Rainbow
• Favorite oldies' social commentary song: "Pleasant Valley Sunday" by the Monkees
• Favorite margarine: Smart Balance
• Favorite novelist: probably Tom Robbins
• Favorite sort-of-raunchy novelist: Henry Miller
• Favorite fruit: when they are at their very best, oranges
• Favorite existential philosopher: Jean-Paul Sartre (who else?)
Well, there you go, Cincinnati. Something to read and think about. And debate about. It can be on the list of activities for your next baby shower, bridal shower, or even post-funeral social hour. Glad that you asked, and really glad that I could help.
• Favorite color: green, in most forms
• Favorite season: spring (I'd make every day about May 10th if I could)
• Favorite classical music ending: tie between "The Pines of Rome" by Respighi, "The Firebird Suite" by Stravinsky, and Mahler's First Symphony (The "Titan")
• Favorite movie: really, when all is said and done, "Ordinary People"
• Favorite race distance: the half marathon, of course!
• Favorite running venue: Lake Harriet in Minneapolis
• Favorite running shoe brand: New Balance (love them 2Es)
• Favorite lack-of-impulse-control food: pizza, in any form
• Favorite early Beatles' song: If I Fell in Love With You
• Favorite late Beatles' song: The Long and Winding Road
• Favorite Marx brother: after Karl, probably Harpo
• Favorite holiday: Thanksgiving, hands down
• Favorite hand lotion: Lubriderm, unscented
• Favorite female vocalist: always had a crush on Linda Ronstadt, until I heard her speak in a normal voice!
• Favorite obscure oldies' song: "Will You Be Staying After Sunday" by the Peppermint Rainbow
• Favorite oldies' social commentary song: "Pleasant Valley Sunday" by the Monkees
• Favorite margarine: Smart Balance
• Favorite novelist: probably Tom Robbins
• Favorite sort-of-raunchy novelist: Henry Miller
• Favorite fruit: when they are at their very best, oranges
• Favorite existential philosopher: Jean-Paul Sartre (who else?)
Well, there you go, Cincinnati. Something to read and think about. And debate about. It can be on the list of activities for your next baby shower, bridal shower, or even post-funeral social hour. Glad that you asked, and really glad that I could help.
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