Sunday

What the Life of Roberto Clemente Can Teach Us About Courage, and the Debate Between Self-Confidence & Conceit


This is a section of a talk given at the Terrain Gallery of 
the Aesthetic Realism Foundation, New York 

On October 21, 1971, millions of Puerto Ricans, including my high school friends and me, watched on live TV as Roberto Clemente, the famed baseball player, descended the steps of a plane at San Juan International Airport.  Having just arrived home after leading the Pittsburg Pirates to their 1971 World Series win against the Baltimore Orioles, he was swept up by thousands of fans, shouting, “Clemente, Clemente, orgullo Boricua”--pride of Puerto Rico.

 
Clemente was one of the greats of baseball: the eleventh player to reach 3,000 career hits; he won four National League batting titles; he was voted the 1971 World Series MVP, and was also a noted humanitarian. As an athlete he had a self-confidence that was authentic. Yet, not knowing the difference between confidence and conceit, he couldn’t make sense of the way he went back and forth between being sure of himself, even boasting, and doubting himself terrifically.  His life, which I’ll discuss in part tonight, can help us understand what men most need to know about self-confidence and conceit.   

Men all over the world are trying to feel confident, feel that we can count on our abilities--at work, in love, social life; and we can also can brag, show off, insist, “I am right, no questions please!”  We can also, as I’ve done, use something we are proudly confident about, to be conceited and later feel ashamed. 

What men most need to know is what Aesthetic Realism shows: that there is a central fight in every human being, which affects every aspect of one’s life. There are two ways we can go after confidence, which are as different from each other as real money is from counterfeit; one is based on respect for the world and other people and one based on contempt.  

Eli Siegel, the founder of Aesthetic Realism, described conceit as the feeling, that “one’s self is one’s only friend and the rest of the world is inferior.” Though very common—-in fact some men may see it as strength-—conceit is always harmful; it has made for terrible things in history.  “True confidence,” he explained “is to be able to say, ‘I like the way I see the world.’” Honest like of the world is the only basis on which a man can be sure of himself. 

Self-confidence and Conceit in a Boy from the Caribbean

Like Roberto Clemente, I was born and raised in a small town in Puerto Rico in the midst of an extended family. As a boy, the times I felt truly confident were in school.  I loved science and felt it had a logic I could count on. 

In sixth grade, after learning about the properties of chemical elements and the movement of the tectonic plates, my classmates and I were assigned to build a model of an active volcano. After each failure we reexamined the facts and gained more confidence as we got more exact. At last, with the right proportion of baking soda and vinegar a red, foamy mixture rose over the top of the "volcano" and flowed down its slopes!! We were thrilled! This is evidence for what I learned from Aesthetic Realism: that the desire to know always makes for self-confidence and pride. 

          But too often, I preferred a false criteria that “I knew better”--period. I used the easy praise I received from my parents, grandparents, aunts and neighbors to bolster my conceited notion that I was superior. I relished being told that I was more polite than Alberto, better behaved than Peter and smarter than Andres. Father Elias even chose me to be the altar boy for the best attended mass on Sundays. I took all this as proof that I was destined for better things, and I wanted others to know it.  

          When I volunteered to bring a platter of jumbo shrimp, which I had seen “fancy” people eat in the movies, to a school fundraising event, I thought everyone would be impressed. It didn’t matter that I had never eaten jumbo shrimps, knew where to buy them or how to prepare them. My mother, Delia Figueroa, suggested other possibilities, including flan, which she makes deliciously, but I said: absolutamente no

My conceit bubble was burst when a classmate’s mother pointed out that the shrimps had not been deveined. I was horrified and angry, but instead of being a critic of myself, I blamed my mother for the fiasco. I was too busy feeling humiliated to even think about the bad effect my conceited insistence had on her. Eli Siegel explained what was going on in me when he wrote: 

Conceit can make one satisfied where one shouldn’t be, but also can make one dissatisfied where one shouldn’t be. Persons would rather be dissatisfied with the world than dissatisfied with what they take to be themselves. [TRO 767]

Being so easily satisfied with myself and dissatisfied with the world was the reason I blamed a teacher in college for a bad grade on a paper that I had not given much effort to, and why I cursed a traffic agent for giving me a ticket even though the meter had expired, justifying myself that, “I was seeing a patient, doing something important, not like what you are doing!” 

Increasingly I felt unsure of myself and often spent weekends alone in my bedroom feeling depressed. In an early Aesthetic Realism consultation I was asked, "Has your conceit made you lonely?"  Yes, it had!  Ellen Reiss, Chairman of Education, explained in the journal The Right of Aesthetic Realism to Be Known:  

There is nothing more burdensome than the false weight of conceit: the concentration on ourselves, the being laden with ourselves, and not wanting to see that we are related to everything. [TRO 1694]

I learned that when we contemptuously elevate ourselves, we will punish ourselves by feeling low and weighed down. This is what I was doing, and my consultants described the basis of the self-confidence I was longing for. In order to like ourselves and really be happy, we have to be fair to all that is not ourselves. That will enable you to have the confidence and pride you are looking for.

   The Life & Achievements of Roberto Clemente: 
What They Tell Us about Confidence and Conceit
 
In a recent article, columnist John Steigerwald, wrote about Roberto Clemente, Pittsburg Pirate #21, 

He finished with 3,000 hits and a .317 batting average, but those are numbers. You had to see him run the bases….you had to see him throw to really appreciate his arm…It’s been 42 years since Clemente played his last game and I’ve still never seen anyone throw like that. Indescribable would be another good word.

Clemente played eighteen seasons for the Pittsburgh Pirates, and was the first Latino inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. 


 Sportswriter Ron Silverman describes him as having “the flair of Willie Mays, the swagger of Mickey Mantle and … the confidence of Hank Aaron.”  His confidence on the field was based on great skill and a desire to know the facts of baseball: from the hardness and grains of woods used for bats, the speed and trajectory of a ball, what stance at bat would make for the best contact with the ball, and he wanted to learn from other players.

But Clemente, like men everywhere, could be arrogant, “Nobody” he said, “does anything better than me in baseball;” and a Milwaukee Journal headline called him conceited.

He was born on August 18, 1934 in Carolina, Puerto Rico, the youngest of seven children. Like many families, life was hard for the Clemente family.  His father Melchor, was a foreman overseeing sugar cane cutters, working from dawn until after nightfall. His mother Luisa was a laundress who also prepared meals for the sugar cane workers. At age eight, Roberto began working alongside his father in the fields. 

According to David Maraniss, author of “Clemente: ThePassion and Grace of Baseball’s Last Hero,” people who knew Roberto growing up described him as often “shy” but also competitive, “proud bordering on arrogant.” 

What he experienced early in life, I believe, had him feel that he was born in a world he had to fight and protect himself from. Meanwhile, like every child, he was hoping to find meaning in the world, and at age six he found that meaning in baseball. His mother, Luisa, said that he loved it so much that he would forget to eat.  

Why baseball is beautiful and why it has been loved by people all over the world, was explained by Eli Siegel in this principle of Aesthetic Realism,

All beauty is a making one of opposites, and the making one of opposites is what we are going after in ourselves.


To see a player slide into third base rightly is to see humility and triumph at once. To see a double play is to see people as simultaneously individual and related. And as we watch a player run well, we are watching power and grace as the same. These are the world's opposites. To feel them together is to respect the world.

Through baseball Roberto Clemente had a respect for the aesthetic structure of the world--the opposites! I think that on the baseball field was the place where Roberto felt the world made most sense and where he felt most confident. 

In 1955, at age 21, he was recruited to play right field for the Pittsburgh Pirates. Arriving in Florida for spring training, Clemente, a dark skinned Latino, was not prepared for what he met--the racism and prejudice of segregation. Prejudice is a horrible form of conceit and is contempt: it is the ugly idea that what is like us is superior to what we see as different from ourselves. 


 While his teammates stayed in whites’ only hotels, Roberto stayed in the home of a black family. Writes historian Samuel O. Regalado: 

They’re training in the south...where...Clemente like other Latin American blacks are introduced to the overt racism they had heard about back in their homeland but now actually see in front of them, and it’s really a concept that is very difficult for them to grasp.

Certainly there was prejudice in Puerto Rico; in fact his first girlfriend, writes Maraniss, “stopped seeing him because her family thought his skin was too dark,” but in the United States he met institutionalized Jim Crow

Throughout his career he endured horrible discrimination, but it’s important to ask: how did he use it?  Ellen Reiss describes the two choices we have when we feel hurt: 
We will either use it to want to know; or we will use it to justify and give free rein  to a desire present in us all the time — the desire for  contempt. [TRO 1439]

Roberto Clemente felt misunderstood and hurt by the team owners, the press, and even other players. He was disparaged for the color of his skin and his Spanish accent. But he didn’t know that the same contempt that causes racism, was also the source of his own conceit. According to reporter Phil Musick,
 
He was vain, occasionally arrogant, often intolerant, unforgiving, and there were moments when I thought for sure he’d cornered the market on self-pity. Mostly, he acted as if the world had just declared all-out war on [him].

The way he felt that he was his “only friend and the rest of the world [was] inferior,” weakened him. One of the ways was that he suffered from chronic insomnia. Insomnia, I have learned, is an ethical matter; it’s one of the ways we can unknowingly punish ourselves for having contempt. “The reason” explained Eli Siegel, “within people for their not sleeping...is: each night people are trying to find shelter in themselves from an unliked though participated in world.”

In a landmark talk, “The Beauty of Baseball Shows How We Want to Be,” presented at the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, by Aesthetic Realism consultant and former professional baseball player, Ernest DeFilippis, he described what baseball players, including Clemente, and fans have not known: that what a player does on the field, 

is a guide to what he want[s] to do in the rest of his life. To respect ourselves, feel strong and kind, we need to be energetically engaged with reality, interested in things, ready to see and meet squarely, fairly, the “curves and fastballs,” the complexities of life.

          I believe a turning point in Roberto Clemente’s life that had him be more engaged with the complexities of life, is described by historian Rob Ruck:

Roberto had a political and social awakening. He wanted to be treated like other human beings.  He saw he had rights, he had a platform for speaking about what was happening to Latino players.


           Clemente came to feel that he could use his fame in behalf of justice to people. He began to study the news of what was happening in the South. He followed Rosa Park’s civil disobedience and the murder of fourteen-year-old Emmett Till, and became a great admirer of Martin Luther King Jr. Roberto’s wife, Vera Zabala, encouraged him, and said in a family biography, that:

Roberto would talk a lot about how being a black Latino coming into baseball meant you had two strikes against you. He wanted the Latino players to get their fair share of money...and respect.

He became a union leader in the Major League Baseball Players Association, defending players’ rights for better working conditions and benefits. 

He convinced other players to support a lawsuit against major league baseball's "reserve clause," which essentially bound a player to his team for life, making players pieces of property to be bought and sold irrespective of their wishes. He convinced his teammates to stand with him in protest in an effort to postpone the Pirates 1968 opening game in honor of Martin Luther King Jr.'s funeral, and succeeded.

And he wanted to create sport cities for underprivileged children in Puerto Rico and other places. As his life went on, Clemente was impelled by a desire for justice not conceit. He said, “If you have a chance to make life better for others and fail to do so, you are wasting your time on this earth.” 

When an earthquake devastated Managua Nicaragua on December 23, 1972, Clemente worked day and night leading relief efforts in Puerto Rico.  When he learned that the aid sent was being stolen by the corrupt Somoza government, he insisted on going himself. On the night of December 31, his plane carrying supplies to Nicaragua crashed, killing him and everyone on board. In 1973, he received posthu­mously the Presidential Citizen Medal which reads in part: 

[Roberto Clemente] stands with the handful of men whose brilliance has transformed the game of baseball…More than that, his selfless dedication to helping those with two strikes against them in life has blessed thousands and set an example for millions. 








Un seguro médico, para todos, de por vida

 Reimpreso de El Diario-La Presnsa, New York - (24-4-07)


 En toda la nación el tema de la crisis en nuestro sistema de salud está candente y la gente está demando a los políticos que la resuelvan. Hay 47 millones de personas sin cobertura médica —14 millones son hispanos— y más de 50 millones con seguros inadecuados. El Instituto de Medicina reportó que cada año 18,000 personas mueren por falta de cobertura médica.

En salud, los EE.UU. gastan por persona más que cualquier otro país avanzado (casi el doble de Canadá y Francia). Aun así, tenemos la más alta mortalidad infantil y casi la más baja expectativa de vida del mundo desarrollado. Es muy claro que hay mucho sufrimiento y que las propuestas para “mejorarlo” en recientes años han tenido poco resultado.

En mis años como doctor he visto a un hombre perder una pierna porque no pudo pagar por antibióticos para curar una úlcera en un pie; he peleado con aseguradoras por denegar procedimientos necesarios, y he visto niños recibir cuidado deficiente porque tenían Medicaid—un seguro que muchos ven de segunda clase. Es increíble que en el país más rico del mundo haya tanta injusticia y dolor.

Pero los demás países desarrollados brindan atención de salud a todos. La única razón que no tenemos cobertura universal es la espectacular ineficiencia de nuestro sistema. Aunque los EE.UU. gastan $2 trillones en gastos de salud, $500 billones nunca llegan a la gente, pero se usan en gastos administrativos, y para pagar a accionistas y ejecutivos millonarios que nunca han cambiado un vendaje en sus vidas.

Es muy claro que el sistema necesita una cirugía radical. Eli Siegel, el gran filósofo y fundador de la educación Realismo Estético, demostró su falla central cuando explicó que un sistema de salud basado en lucro es inmoral porque está “basado en desprecio por la gente”. El explicó que tan pronto uno está en busca de lucrarse, uno no puede estar muy interesado en lo que otras personas se merecen, lo que sienten, ya que eso restringiría nuestra habilidad de ganar dinero de ellos.

Nuestro sistema no debe depender en que algunos se lucren de las desdichas de otros seres humanos. Cuando aseguradoras, hospitales o médicos ven a pacientes en término de cuánto dinero se puede hacer de ellos es puro desprecio, y es completamente opuesto a desear que se fortalezcan y que sean más saludables

Lo cierto es que podemos dar cobertura a todos en los EE.UU. si expandimos el plan federal Medicare a todas las personas que residan en el país, sin importar su estado migratorio, o su estado de salud. El Medicare es la aseguradora federal sin fines de lucro que ha cubierto eficientemente, y con cuidado de calidad, a nuestras personas mayores.

Esto se lograría pagado con un impuesto que representaría menos de lo que la mayoría de los empleados o de sus empleadores pagan hoy en seguros. Así, en un solo paso, se daría cobertura a los no asegurados, se bajarían significativamente los costos administrativos y se avanzaría en la prevención.

Es por eso que debemos educarnos y demandar a todos los que desean la presidencia de este país a que expandan el Medicare como el seguro médico nacional, donde todos estemos cubiertos, y cuyo único propósito sea mejorar nuestra salud y no obtener ganancias.

El Dr. Jaime R. Torres es fundador de Latinos por un Seguro Médico Nacional y un Asociado en la Fundación Realismo Estético en NY.

 

 

 

Saturday

How to Understand the Two Angers in Oneself

  

 Reprinted from The Right of Aesthetic Realism to Be Known

I believe that anger has been understood truly and comprehensively by Eli Siegel. In his lecture Aesthetic Realism and Anger, he defined anger as “pain, with the desire to destroy the cause of it” (TRO 893). And he has shown that there are two kinds, which come from different sources in the self. “A good anger has like of the world in it, has respect for the world in it; and a bad or hurtful anger has dislike of the world in it, or contempt for the world in it” (TRO 188).

I Had These Two Angers

As a child on the island of Puerto Rico, I was in a terrific mix-up between good and bad anger. When I was ten, a school in the countryside was damaged by a hurricane. I was angry that the local government was slow to help, and volunteered to collect supplies and books for the children. This anger came from my hope to respect people and affect them well, and I felt proud.

Meanwhile, as the first son and grandson in my family, I was doted on by my parents, grandparents, and aunts, and few things were denied me. I was given specially prepared meals, trips, plenty of toys, and many compliments. I used all this to feel superior, and was angry when other people—shopkeepers, teachers, children—seemed not to see the immense value I had. I wanted things on my terms and got annoyed (for example) that math was so complicated, or if I had to wait in line, or had to walk more than three blocks to buy something.

I was a little tyrant. After just three piano lessons I insisted that I needed an organ. When my parents said it would be better to wait until I improved, I threw a tantrum and got the organ. But after a few weeks it became an unused piece of furniture. I angrily felt, “It’s too hard to learn all those notes!” And for years, the sight of the organ made me feel ashamed and angry.

As I grew older, I could be outwardly affable and seem easygoing, yet inwardly I often seethed. Since I thought angry people were unlikable and rude, I cultivated an inner life that never saw the light of day, in which I made fun of people, felt that persons who had opinions different from mine were ignorant, felt that the world was one impediment after another.

In the lecture from which I quoted, Mr. Siegel describes a “quiet” anger: “the kind that is smooth disappointment—where we act as if the world will never really please us.” One form this quiet anger took in me was the way I collected grievances in my mind: I never forgot or forgave what I saw as an insult. In a consultation early in my study of Aesthetic Realism, I was asked whether the desire to hold on to grudges and go over them in my mind made me weaker or stronger.

Consultants. For example, when you’re nourishing a grudge, how does the world look to you? Does anything else exist besides the person you have a grievance against?

JT. No. Everything else is in the background.

Consultants. And at that time, are you interested in whether the person has any accurate criticism of you?

JT. That is the last thing in my mind.

Those questions and others I heard were liberating. I began to reconsider my grudges, my nurturing of them, and my sense that they made me superior and noble. I began to see that among the consequences of my unjust anger were my feeling separate and my inability to care much for anything or anyone.

Anger Interferes with Love

A mistake men make about love—and it’s a huge one—is using a person as a haven, a consolation in a world the man sees as against him. And men have gotten very angry when the loved one acts clearly like something other than an adoring adjunct.

When I met Donita Ellison, a tall, beautiful woman from Missouri, who was a teacher using the Aesthetic Realism Teaching Method, she affected me very much. I was swept by the passionate way she spoke about education and her students, combined with her easy Midwestern manner. With every conversation, the world looked better to me. And when I asked Donita to marry me, she said yes.

But (like men throughout history) I also resented having to think deeply about my wife. I resented the fact that she had opinions different from mine and even sometimes had the nerve to offer some useful criticism of me. I’d seemingly agree with a criticism she gave me, but would battle with her in my mind, telling myself, “I’m a good husband—I provide well, don’t drink or smoke or stay out late, and I’m doing good work. She should be happy with this good husband!” I was angry—and wasn’t proud of my anger.

When I told about this in an Aesthetic Realism class on ethics, Ellen Reiss, Aesthetic Realism Chair of Education, spoke to me in a way that changed deeply how I felt. For instance, she asked if I thought the ideal of many people was to be completely adored and completely unbothered, and if that was my ideal. It was. I said that I sometimes didn’t even want to talk with Donita about work that I care for very much—in behalf of a just healthcare system, something Donita is also very much for. Ms. Reiss said:

ER. The thought about a woman’s inner life can seem very different from thinking about what is fair to people in a large way.

JT. Yes, I think I’ve seen them as too different.

And she asked: What is the relation between trying to understand the depths of a person close to one, and fighting hard so that people everywhere get the justice they deserve? She explained: Good will, the desire to have someone else stronger, is the purpose that relates the personal and the wide, care for one person and justice to people in general.

I’m grateful to be in the midst of this thrilling study with my wife, whom I love very much.

Dr. Jaime Torres is a co-founder of Latinos for Healthcare Equity and an active advocate for justice in healthcare






What Mistakes Do Men and Women Make About Coldness and Warmth?

Reprinted from the South Carolina Black News



In the summer of 1967, when I was ten, I heard a man speaking passionately to a large crowd about his plans to bring needed jobs to our town and improve living conditions. As hundreds of people cheered, I was impressed, but what I showed was coldness and indifference as I sulkily complained to my mother, "When are we going home? I’m tired of standing."

This man was Jaime Torres Rodríguez, my father, who was running for mayor of Ciales, Puerto Rico. He hoped to have a good effect on people’s lives. But I thought his concern for the welfare of men and women whom I didn’t even know, was against me. And I made the mistake — which I was to repeat for years — of being more interested in what was coming to me than warmly, respectfully being for what others deserved.

The way I shuttled from warmth to coldness caused me and others confusion and pain. Sometimes I would act as though a person I’d just met was destined to be the best friend I’d ever had. At other times I would avoid someone on the street whom I actually knew quite well. Though outwardly I was affable and easygoing, inwardly I would often seethe with anger. By the age of 15, when my grandfather died, I seemed to feel nothing. At his funeral I cried, not because I felt too much but because I felt too little. "How could I be so cold?" I wondered.

I’m more grateful than I can say that Aesthetic Realism brought kind logic, sanity, to this subject. I learned that the debate we have between the opposites of warmth and coldness is an aspect of a bigger debate raging in everyone about how to see the world: should we see it as something we hope to like and find meaning in, or as something to be aloof from and have as little to do with as possible? 

Coldness, quite clearly," Eli Siegel writes, is allied to contempt; and...contempt for the world is seen by man as a safeguard of himself .... Any time we can give a cold shoulder to something, our self-stock rises.

Mr. Siegel’s understanding of contempt is one of the most important discoveries in history. Without this knowledge, people cannot see that something we cherish warmly in ourselves is really contempt, the thing that most hurt us.

Warmth, Coldness, & the Family


As the firstborn and first grandson, I was generally the center of attention in my family. Very early, I came to feel that the praise my mother and other relatives lavished on me was the warmest thing in the world. I used it to be self-centered and superior, to feel I should be waited on and adored.

A person to whom I gave a cold shoulder for a long time was my father. He had begun working at age 13, during the depression, and years later was able to buy his own drugstore, of which he was rightly proud. In public, my father was outgoing and energetic, but at home he often seemed tired and didn’t want to talk. The way he acted so friendly and warm to customers, then in private would often complain about them, confused me. My father too had a fight between warmth and coldness; but instead of trying to understand and see that he was pained by it — which would have been true warmth — I coldly used it to feel he was insincere and to have contempt for him.

Meanwhile, what I held most against my father was that he had so many interests that weren’t me, and also that he was often critical of me for being selfish. I was bent on punishing him, and when he tried to show me affection, I would recoil. If he made a joke and everyone laughed, I was solemn, even grim. And I mocked his desire to hold public office, feeling it was a big interference with our Sunday outings.

What Questions!


Years later in an Aesthetic Realism consultation, when I said bitterly that my father was more interested in his business than in me, my consultants asked: "Where do you think he felt more respected, at work or at home?" "What a question!" I said, remembering the many times I was on the couch watching TV and would hear my father arrive from work at 9 PM. I would fake being asleep so that I wouldn’t have to greet him.

When my consultants asked me what he had done to me to deserve that coldness, I answered defensively, "He didn’t want to know me."

Consultants: It is sad not to be understood, but what have you done to be understood?
Jaime Torres: I don’t think much.
Consultants: What had I done to understand him?

This surprised me very much. And at the age of 27 I began consciously to change my desire to look for hurts to a desire to know. Because of what I’ve learned I have a new respect and care for my parents and sister, a feeling that is light years away from that summer of 1967. We began to have conversations as never before, and a new warmth came to be. Then my parents too began to study Aesthetic Realism, in phone consultations from Puerto Rico! On their 42nd anniversary, they wrote a letter, published in newspapers in Puerto Rico and New York, in which they said:

[We] are more alive than ever because of what we have learned from Aesthetic Realism .... We learned to understand and respect each other more, and to see the world around us with more value. Instead of routine, we now have more communication. We have seen how adoring our children and seeing them as better than others is contempt, and is one of the reasons why children don’t respect their parents. We believe that if families all over the world studied this education, the social problems that at this time are destroying human beings and the family would greatly change.

Aesthetic Realism is the best, warmest friend of the family, and every person in this world deserves to know it.

The Mistake about Love


A large field for mistakes about warmth and coldness is love. In TRO 1276, Ellen Reiss asks this question: "Are you troubled by the way you can feel cold to someone close to you, someone you thought you felt so warm towards?" And she explains: "We can also feel cold towards someone we care for because there is that in us which wants to love only ourselves."

Soon after I began seeing Donita Ellison, who is a high school teacher of art, I found myself having feelings about her that were big and new: I was swept! But I also made a mistake that without Aesthetic Realism I would never have been able to understand and change. For several months Donita and I spoke almost every day, and I was so glad to see her, couldn’t wait until I did. Yet I found myself one day feeling we were too different and therefore not compatible.

When I spoke about this in an Aesthetic Realism consultation, my consultants asked: "Is Donita Ellison a threat to your big love affair — the one you’ve had with yourself?" This was so true!

I remember the first time I invited Donita to visit my apartment in Westchester. After dinner at a restaurant and an exciting conversation through which we both had more feeling, on the way to my home I began to think, "This is getting too deep and it is out of my control." When we were in the apartment for a few minutes, I told Donita, "It’s going to rain and you have to drive back to Manhattan. Here is an umbrella. Drive carefully." As she left I felt relieved, but also so ashamed and cold. And when Donita called me after arriving home safely and was critical — I was very grateful to hear her voice!

My consultants explained: "There are two things in reality: you and the world. If you don’t want to be truly affected by the world, that leaves only you .... Does Donita Ellison have the right to affect you in a big way? Is it reality you are being affected by through her?"

Jaime Torres: Yes. 
Consultants: Is it wholly in your control?
Jaime Torres:  No, it’s not. 
Consultants: Congratulations!

By the end of 1993, I knew I wanted to marry Donita; and in my mind I pictured a proposal, an engagement, the ceremony and honeymoon, and living happily ever after. I had a plan to surprise Donita by announcing our engagement — which she knew nothing about — at a party with my parents present. Somehow, though, I didn’t feel at ease with my plan, and when I told my consultants about it they asked: "As you thought about this, how did you see Ms. Ellison? Is she just part of the decoration, or do you see her as a real person? In your thought, who were all the people at the party looking at?"

Jaime Torres: Me.
Consultants: What happened to Donita Ellison?
Jaime Torres: I guess she was also looking at me.

And they asked whether I saw how something that might begin well could be used on behalf of a selfish purpose.

I certainly did. And I saw that the only way I would feel I deserved to have Donita care for and trust me was to be able to say sincerely: I want to use you to like the world, and I want to do everything I can to have you like the world and to meet what you are truly hoping for.

I’m so happy and honored that Donita is now my wife, and that our wonderful Aesthetic Realism education continues.





Overeating and Feeling Empty--Is There a Relation?

 

This column was part of a talk presented at the Aesthetic Realism Foundation.

Years ago if I had been asked, I would have said I wanted big emotions and experiences that would have my life be full; but I didn’t see that there was something in me, as there is in every person, working against that. Aesthetic Realism explains the cause of emptiness — and how it can end. 

Eli Siegel, the philosopher and founder of this education, showed that at every moment of our lives we are making a choice between liking the world — seeing its meaning — or getting rid of the world and its complexities by having contempt. In his great 1949 lecture Mind and Emptiness, he said: “The desire to do away with things makes for a tremendous emptiness .... [Contempt] is a great discarder. It is a great incinerator of the useful.” 

I felt most people were insincere and the world was too complicated, always making demands on me; I wanted to be unbothered and not let things affect me too much. By age 27 I had a degree in podiatric medicine, and a position in a large hospital, but inside I felt a pervasive emptiness that continued even in the midst of an active social life. My life shows that no matter how much praise we get, and whatever our achievements, if our purpose is not to like the world and see meaning in things, there will be emptiness. The word like is important, because, I learned, if we want to feel superior we won’t be able to see how we are like other people and things, related to the world outside us. Seeing that relation in more and more ways, we can never feel empty.

Welcoming Meaning or Emptiness 

Growing up in Ciales, Puerto Rico, I saw meaning in the study of science, and would spend hours with my chemistry set, amazed by how different compounds came together to form a new one. But I also felt cursed by fate: I thought I lived in the most boring place on the planet, was born to the wrong family, and was destined to be overweight and miserable. I didn’t ask: Is my feeling of emptiness reality’s fault, or does it come because of how I see? 

The truth was that I grew up on a lush mountainside overlooking a green valley where two rivers met; and my parents were useful in our community and worked hard to provide a good education and comfortable life for me and my sister. 

I was praised by members of my family and came to feel I was a special child, unequaled in charm and sensitivity. My grandmother Ana treated me like a prince and would not let me play outside for fear I’d get hurt. Another child would have rebelled, but I used this as proof that I was too valuable to be involved in an unfriendly world. In my quiet way I acted like a tyrant: I said “Water” and a glass came quickly. I said, “I don’t like that,” and another lunch was prepared. I came to see, through my study of Aesthetic Realism, that it was this desire to be served and superior that made me feel I didn’t need to value and see meaning in anything. 

As I grew older, though I seemed very amiable, I was a snob. What I valued most was being liked by the “right” people and envied by everyone else. I excluded more and more, and as time went on, felt painfully bored, empty, and distant from people. Thank God I met Aesthetic Realism and the kind, exact logic that changed my life! In an early consultation, as I spoke about being an affable guy who just couldn’t “connect” with people, I was asked: “Do you like people?” 

Jaime Torres:      People say that I’m nice.

Consultants:        If those people were able to see what’s in your mind, do you think they would like it?

Jaime Torres:      Oh, no!

Consultants:        Do you know the difference between acting nice and being kind?

Jaime Torres:      Wow, I don’t think I do! 

I had thought I was keen in being able to spot flaws in others. I came to see I had a hope to find flaws — real or imagined — and this hope made me unable to have true feeling for people. 

Through consultations I began to see with excitement the meaning of things I had dismissed. I saw that the feelings of people were interesting, important, and added to my life. I never felt empty again! I respect Eli Siegel for his magnificent understanding of mind and the world.

Overeating and Emptiness 

Aesthetic Realism shows that the taking in of food represents an organic like of reality, that eating is a tribute to how much we need the world to be strong. It can also be used as a means of having revenge on a world we see as unfriendly. In The Right of Aesthetic Realism to Be Known  philosopher Eli Siegel describes a mistake people have made: 

A man very often says, he can never get pleasure from people--he can only get pleasure from food. He may go out in company, but there is a big fear. He feels he doesn't have things his way. But with food...he has it entirely his way. So there is a tendency to give ourselves more to food than to feeling, and in this way we lessen our lives...If there is something pleasant like eating, and people can feel that they are managing things, they will take that. So they will have a sensation from the plate and not from the heart.
  

Growing up, when I felt things got complicated — which was often — I’d get annoyed, and a quick means to composure was in the refrigerator. I’d have a swift victory over a pound cake, but afterward feel ashamed and empty. This terrible cycle would be repeated again and again. By the age of 15, I weighed close to 250 pounds. I’d take pills, lose weight, and gain it back.  


When I went away to college I was able to lose weight; but it wasn’t until I met Aesthetic Realism and began to learn that my deepest desire is to like the world, not look down on it, that I began to eat more respectfully. As I’ve seen meaning in, for example, how a pastry is made, the history of flour, how my morning coffee began with the labor of a man in Colombia, I have felt a sense of fulness that is bigger than the victory of devouring food. The only thing that will bring sanity to the subject of overeating, which torments so many people, is the learning from Aesthetic Realism about the fight in all of us between respect and contempt for the world. 

Several years after Donita Ellison and I married, I found myself waking after midnight, impelled to go to the kitchen for a snack. When I mentioned this in an Aesthetic Realism class, Chair of Education Ellen Reiss asked me: “Early morning dining — what do you think it comes from?” I said, “Wanting to please myself.” And she asked: “Do you think at night you feel you have yourself to yourself? Is there that in you which would like to be completely alone? In being married, you have the question of how you can be joined with someone and alone .... Ms. Ellison’s existence is a nag to you — she is dear to you, but why does she have to be around so much?” That was what I felt! Then Ms. Reiss showed me that the solution is in aesthetics. She said if a photographer, 

were going to photograph this glass of water in a certain light, he would need the glass and the light — but feel he is taking care of himself in needing them. No one could do anything in the art field without feeling that the thing liked also stands for oneself. Does Ms. Ellison — the stranger — stand for you? Does Jaime Torres like himself more through a conversation with Donita Ellison than through roaming around the house alone at night?” I am happy to say that after this discussion, my impulsion for nocturnal dining stopped. 

It is a wonderful thing that Donita, a woman from the Midwest, who has written important articles on behalf of justice for farmers, does stand for me. As we talk about what we are learning, about world events, about our thoughts, I feel Donita wants to know me, and I love her! A lifetime is not enough to express what it means to me to have learned from Aesthetic Realism that to be affected by the world is my greatest need and largest freedom.