Friday, March 27, 2009
Some air went into my ear and got stuck;
I had to let it out, and for what it's worth, I hope it helps
By that what I mean to say is I suppose I have been thinking about a ton of things, and now's as good of a time to let them out.
At work we are having Movie Friday lately, some bonding thing the big boss lady decided upon. I'm not too thrilled about catching films, sitting around with these jokers, at least not while I could be using that couple hours extra in the office to do internship stuff, or school stuff, or just plain fuck around.
But today we watched The Pursuit of Happyness, one of those movies I hadn't gotten around to seeing, and I thought, well, what the hell.
As far as those cheesy, you can be anything, inspirational films ala Akeelah and the Bee, it's pretty high up there. It's also pretty awesome, and here's why.
It got me thinking about so much, I don't know where to begin, so I'll start with luck. If you guys have seen it, Chris, Will Smith's character, has got to have some of the best and worst luck of any character in any film, of any person, if there were such a person.
And what does he do with such luck, such a mixed bag of ups and downs on his journey to happiness? He takes the worst things and he pushes anyway; he busts his ass, and he somehow makes things work. And with the good luck, the best luck, he capitalizes on it by recognizing it and going with his gut and chasing it down.
He goes through some incredibly desperate times. It's one of those movies where you see the lows, and one of few where I could say I've never even been close to them. But from the fact that I'd never been there, the lowest a person could almost get while dangling on the slightest thread of hope and pursuing that, I could relate in remembering this mental space where I almost had been there.
And I think there's an almost Buddhist message, while certainly unintended, but something about the nature of the Universe. I know it's just a film, but the story came from a person, and these things were put in that script for something. The things put in that script are the things that make me think about luck, intention, hard work, perspective, goodness ... all basic principles that are so, so important.
Yet another wonderful thing about this and the main character is the use of both honesty and humor as a means to an end, as the best possible means to an end. The moments where his luck seems to heighten the most is when he is being himself.
I suppose all that, and watching his son in the film too, and thinking about how strong he would grow up to be, made me think of something tangible which I am reminded of at times by a familiar song.
Father of mine, tell me where have you been?
It's been years and that song doesn't sting as much as I used to. It's a pretty good song, man. You know what part I really feel and have always felt? The part when he sings, "Now I'm a grown man, with a child of my own" and something about how he'll never know the pain that he's known.
I feel that. I'm not a man, and I don't have any children, and I feel that. Take it or leave it.
I haven't written about my biological father very much. I have sometimes written about my stepdad, who I do consider my dad, the one I'm sure a couple of you have told me to cut some slack at least a couple of times.
I must say in my mind when the word "dad" comes up, it is not the one who gave me my blood that stands out. He's not the one I call on Father's Day. He's not the one taking care of my mother right now. He's not the one that is a grandfather to my niece and nephew. He's not the one who showed me once how a back-hoe works in the front yard! He's not the one who sat me down and gave me something to hope for, after my accident, after I had really lost my shit. He's not the one who drove me to school when I needed him to. He's not the one who has remained humble and held the same job for the last 15 years.
It's not even worth making comparisons, to tell the truth. I could say it much shorter by saying what he actually was. He was not there. Not physically, not financially, not emotionally. He was not even there in his own head. He has never owned up to his mistakes, never. He'll try to make amends on false pretenses, like that time he used to talk to us on the phone, except I wasn't allowed to know where he lived, because he was on the run, doing illegal things, nearly 21 years into my life even, nearly 18 years after making some of the biggest mistakes he ever made.
I understand that it is a sickness. I understand that he came from pain. But pain is a cycle, and it'll cycle in and out until you break it or you let it break you. I'm choosing the latter. I'm choosing the better life. I'm choosing the better future.
And yet another line from a song floats through my head: Death Cab for Cutie, "Styrofoam Plates" -- "he was a bastard in life, and a bastard in death."
And I can't help feeling that. Goddamn I feel that, but the crazy thing is that I've almost never in my life allowed myself to be angry about anything. Except that is not true, either, not completely. Do you know what I did with all my anger for years? I directed it onto myself. I expressed it in some of the choices I made, some of the mistakes I felt I was making on purpose many times, like the Fiona Apple song, except it never did help a damn thing.
And now, do you know what I just want to feel? The present. And nothing from the past. I want to block it out like an eclipse of the sun. Let it ride, get dark, get dawn again, and become a new day. A new era.
Because man or not, children or not, I am grown. I have grown past the point of ever needing him for anything that he wouldn't give me anyway ever again.
All he ever gave me was pain, and then hope, and then pain again. Darker, deeper, sharper pain that left scars upon scars.
The only reason I've held on this long is for the little secrets I keep to myself, the tiny, little memories, like remembering at one time in my life for a few short years, employing the word "daddy" with my clumsy, high, little girl voice, and remembering the affection I felt in using it. But the funny thing about the memory is that it is almost a fiction, because I can hear it, but I can't. I can remember it, but I can't.
There's a lot more I can say, except I'm not sure if I should have said so much in the first place. He doesn't deserve it, by any means, but I'm hoping this will in some ways be a catharsis.
He emailed me recently, like he has about once in the last six months or year or so for the last couple of years. He's always reaching out, but to take his hand would be like trying to step onto a broken ladder 55 stories in the air.
He tried to manipulate my feelings. He referenced the same feelings and some things I had mentioned in my songs. The ones I took down because I knew he was listening to them online, and all those songs were filled with pain, except it took me my whole life nearly to discover how much of that pain came from him. And he said, "Understanding. That's the word. Comes with ups and downs, Cara. You should know that."
But what he doesn't get, what he doesn't understand, and what he never will, is that I get it. I do understand. I understand that he is old and lonely and in pain because he has fucked off everyone and everything, and the only good thing he ever had in his life have been gone for many, many years. I understand that he thinks the world owes him something, that he never quite figured out how to own his life, really own it.
What I also understand is that one can't be rational with crazy people. There are crazy fucked up people in this world, and I know, and I have known some, and I almost could have become one of them, but you know what? It's in my blood and I still didn't because that's not me.
Because I'm a nice person, with integrity, and dreams. I have met challenges. I have withstood the strain of some hard fucking times, knowing things would get better, knowing one day things would change for the better, and I would eventually get there.
The thing about getting there is that it is not what you expect ever. I think I held onto the idea for too long that you can't give up on people. Or that you have to love unconditionally. That blood is thicker than water. That a sperm donor is a father. That people can change for the good.
Several things come out of this. One of the things about people changing is that they have to want to, and they have to do it on their own, and that it is not easy. Not the slightest. The other thing it has to do with is good and evil, two notions I've never put much stock in before and still even now use loosely. But what I mean is that regardless of actions, it's something in a person's heart or soul that makes one good, and you either have it, or you don't. And if you don't, that's some shit because it does not grow on trees. But the one thing about shit is that it smells, and I'm getting better and better at recognizing it with age.
So I suppose along with understanding all this, I have but one choice and that is to accept it. I am fortunate to know that I can accept it while standing right by me is someone who knows all of it, who understands all of it as best as he can, and one who loves me for it, who loves me for the fact that I climbed so hard to get to the top of this mountain of shit just to finally get a clear view of things and paint the sky with my eyes.
We are going to do it together, building a future, and healing a past, and I am more grateful for that then I can ever show, but I will spend the rest of my life showing him.
I had to let it out, and for what it's worth, I hope it helps
By that what I mean to say is I suppose I have been thinking about a ton of things, and now's as good of a time to let them out.
At work we are having Movie Friday lately, some bonding thing the big boss lady decided upon. I'm not too thrilled about catching films, sitting around with these jokers, at least not while I could be using that couple hours extra in the office to do internship stuff, or school stuff, or just plain fuck around.
But today we watched The Pursuit of Happyness, one of those movies I hadn't gotten around to seeing, and I thought, well, what the hell.
As far as those cheesy, you can be anything, inspirational films ala Akeelah and the Bee, it's pretty high up there. It's also pretty awesome, and here's why.
It got me thinking about so much, I don't know where to begin, so I'll start with luck. If you guys have seen it, Chris, Will Smith's character, has got to have some of the best and worst luck of any character in any film, of any person, if there were such a person.
And what does he do with such luck, such a mixed bag of ups and downs on his journey to happiness? He takes the worst things and he pushes anyway; he busts his ass, and he somehow makes things work. And with the good luck, the best luck, he capitalizes on it by recognizing it and going with his gut and chasing it down.
He goes through some incredibly desperate times. It's one of those movies where you see the lows, and one of few where I could say I've never even been close to them. But from the fact that I'd never been there, the lowest a person could almost get while dangling on the slightest thread of hope and pursuing that, I could relate in remembering this mental space where I almost had been there.
And I think there's an almost Buddhist message, while certainly unintended, but something about the nature of the Universe. I know it's just a film, but the story came from a person, and these things were put in that script for something. The things put in that script are the things that make me think about luck, intention, hard work, perspective, goodness ... all basic principles that are so, so important.
Yet another wonderful thing about this and the main character is the use of both honesty and humor as a means to an end, as the best possible means to an end. The moments where his luck seems to heighten the most is when he is being himself.
I suppose all that, and watching his son in the film too, and thinking about how strong he would grow up to be, made me think of something tangible which I am reminded of at times by a familiar song.
Father of mine, tell me where have you been?
It's been years and that song doesn't sting as much as I used to. It's a pretty good song, man. You know what part I really feel and have always felt? The part when he sings, "Now I'm a grown man, with a child of my own" and something about how he'll never know the pain that he's known.
I feel that. I'm not a man, and I don't have any children, and I feel that. Take it or leave it.
I haven't written about my biological father very much. I have sometimes written about my stepdad, who I do consider my dad, the one I'm sure a couple of you have told me to cut some slack at least a couple of times.
I must say in my mind when the word "dad" comes up, it is not the one who gave me my blood that stands out. He's not the one I call on Father's Day. He's not the one taking care of my mother right now. He's not the one that is a grandfather to my niece and nephew. He's not the one who showed me once how a back-hoe works in the front yard! He's not the one who sat me down and gave me something to hope for, after my accident, after I had really lost my shit. He's not the one who drove me to school when I needed him to. He's not the one who has remained humble and held the same job for the last 15 years.
It's not even worth making comparisons, to tell the truth. I could say it much shorter by saying what he actually was. He was not there. Not physically, not financially, not emotionally. He was not even there in his own head. He has never owned up to his mistakes, never. He'll try to make amends on false pretenses, like that time he used to talk to us on the phone, except I wasn't allowed to know where he lived, because he was on the run, doing illegal things, nearly 21 years into my life even, nearly 18 years after making some of the biggest mistakes he ever made.
I understand that it is a sickness. I understand that he came from pain. But pain is a cycle, and it'll cycle in and out until you break it or you let it break you. I'm choosing the latter. I'm choosing the better life. I'm choosing the better future.
And yet another line from a song floats through my head: Death Cab for Cutie, "Styrofoam Plates" -- "he was a bastard in life, and a bastard in death."
And I can't help feeling that. Goddamn I feel that, but the crazy thing is that I've almost never in my life allowed myself to be angry about anything. Except that is not true, either, not completely. Do you know what I did with all my anger for years? I directed it onto myself. I expressed it in some of the choices I made, some of the mistakes I felt I was making on purpose many times, like the Fiona Apple song, except it never did help a damn thing.
And now, do you know what I just want to feel? The present. And nothing from the past. I want to block it out like an eclipse of the sun. Let it ride, get dark, get dawn again, and become a new day. A new era.
Because man or not, children or not, I am grown. I have grown past the point of ever needing him for anything that he wouldn't give me anyway ever again.
All he ever gave me was pain, and then hope, and then pain again. Darker, deeper, sharper pain that left scars upon scars.
The only reason I've held on this long is for the little secrets I keep to myself, the tiny, little memories, like remembering at one time in my life for a few short years, employing the word "daddy" with my clumsy, high, little girl voice, and remembering the affection I felt in using it. But the funny thing about the memory is that it is almost a fiction, because I can hear it, but I can't. I can remember it, but I can't.
There's a lot more I can say, except I'm not sure if I should have said so much in the first place. He doesn't deserve it, by any means, but I'm hoping this will in some ways be a catharsis.
He emailed me recently, like he has about once in the last six months or year or so for the last couple of years. He's always reaching out, but to take his hand would be like trying to step onto a broken ladder 55 stories in the air.
He tried to manipulate my feelings. He referenced the same feelings and some things I had mentioned in my songs. The ones I took down because I knew he was listening to them online, and all those songs were filled with pain, except it took me my whole life nearly to discover how much of that pain came from him. And he said, "Understanding. That's the word. Comes with ups and downs, Cara. You should know that."
But what he doesn't get, what he doesn't understand, and what he never will, is that I get it. I do understand. I understand that he is old and lonely and in pain because he has fucked off everyone and everything, and the only good thing he ever had in his life have been gone for many, many years. I understand that he thinks the world owes him something, that he never quite figured out how to own his life, really own it.
What I also understand is that one can't be rational with crazy people. There are crazy fucked up people in this world, and I know, and I have known some, and I almost could have become one of them, but you know what? It's in my blood and I still didn't because that's not me.
Because I'm a nice person, with integrity, and dreams. I have met challenges. I have withstood the strain of some hard fucking times, knowing things would get better, knowing one day things would change for the better, and I would eventually get there.
The thing about getting there is that it is not what you expect ever. I think I held onto the idea for too long that you can't give up on people. Or that you have to love unconditionally. That blood is thicker than water. That a sperm donor is a father. That people can change for the good.
Several things come out of this. One of the things about people changing is that they have to want to, and they have to do it on their own, and that it is not easy. Not the slightest. The other thing it has to do with is good and evil, two notions I've never put much stock in before and still even now use loosely. But what I mean is that regardless of actions, it's something in a person's heart or soul that makes one good, and you either have it, or you don't. And if you don't, that's some shit because it does not grow on trees. But the one thing about shit is that it smells, and I'm getting better and better at recognizing it with age.
So I suppose along with understanding all this, I have but one choice and that is to accept it. I am fortunate to know that I can accept it while standing right by me is someone who knows all of it, who understands all of it as best as he can, and one who loves me for it, who loves me for the fact that I climbed so hard to get to the top of this mountain of shit just to finally get a clear view of things and paint the sky with my eyes.
We are going to do it together, building a future, and healing a past, and I am more grateful for that then I can ever show, but I will spend the rest of my life showing him.
Labels: Deadbeat Dads, Healing, Movies, Spirituality
Monday, July 14, 2008
A Reflection on the Decline of Buddhism in Japan
It is bothersome to me that neither this article nor many of the comments following it on Digg pay any tribute to what Buddhism is actually about.
"With all the pain and destruction religions have wrought, we should not mourn their demise," one commenter said. Yes, that is absolutely right. But Buddhism is about transcending the pain and destruction involved in worldly living. The Dalai Lama has written that in order to break the cycle of death and rebirth and everything in between, one must spiritually reflect and dismiss the 10 nonvirtues.
The I Ching also says that in everything beautiful there is ugliness, and the Dalai Lama expanded on this in his books by taking many examples of things that can initially bring pleasure, and showing that whether overindulging or pursuing sensory fulfillment with the wrong motivation, the pleasure is replaced, many times in the short term, by a greater pain or emptiness.
This article is most disturbing to me because I want to believe that something like Buddhism could survive, as its spiritual teachings can be incorporated into a secular life, one which can include money and work, but still help make things more meaningful. For the priests to say they are losing hope, they are denying their faith and perpetuating negative energy in this challenging moment when they need to remain positive the most.
It is bothersome to me that neither this article nor many of the comments following it on Digg pay any tribute to what Buddhism is actually about.
"With all the pain and destruction religions have wrought, we should not mourn their demise," one commenter said. Yes, that is absolutely right. But Buddhism is about transcending the pain and destruction involved in worldly living. The Dalai Lama has written that in order to break the cycle of death and rebirth and everything in between, one must spiritually reflect and dismiss the 10 nonvirtues.
The I Ching also says that in everything beautiful there is ugliness, and the Dalai Lama expanded on this in his books by taking many examples of things that can initially bring pleasure, and showing that whether overindulging or pursuing sensory fulfillment with the wrong motivation, the pleasure is replaced, many times in the short term, by a greater pain or emptiness.
This article is most disturbing to me because I want to believe that something like Buddhism could survive, as its spiritual teachings can be incorporated into a secular life, one which can include money and work, but still help make things more meaningful. For the priests to say they are losing hope, they are denying their faith and perpetuating negative energy in this challenging moment when they need to remain positive the most.
Labels: Buddhism, Dalai Lama, Spirituality
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
"Remember, where you're going, there are no roads."
So i was having one of those days with all of these little inconveniences. things to do with waiting and buses and other little things ... it took several hours to just get to an appointment and run a small errand and get done with everything. it started to feel like an all day sort of thing ...
But something happened. 'Cause somewhere along through the day i came from some moment where the universe was obviously playing some game involving conspiracy against me, and moving into a completely different feeling. A feeling where everything is right in the world, or as right as it could be, a feeling of content in the moment.
I am looking for a new job and a place to live.
I am looking forward to graduating, REALLY graduating, in a little over a year.
I am looking forward to finding stable employment where I can make more money, and where my intellect will be valued, and where my skills will be applied.
I am looking forward to the content I'm going to feel when these things do happen, and enjoying the anticipation of knowing they will.
I am looking forward to making a budget and paying my bills and saving money, and looking forward to the satisfaction that comes along with the independence of knowing when the bills are coming, how much they will be, and just being able to pay them.
I am looking forward to being able to grocery shop and eat something other than grilled cheese or food from the restaurant where I work, and fuck, grilled cheese is good, but it's even more awesome when you can afford to have two kinds of cheese, or to add some mushrooms or avocado ...
I am looking forward to getting a new haircut and new clothes.
I am looking forward to saving my money and buying a nice old/new broken in car again, and cruising with some r&b and the windows down.
I am looking forward to so much there is very little time to look back on my mistakes, other than to say, "This is where I've been, and this is where I'm leading."
Because I have a lot going for me, a lot more to do, a lot more good coming my way. I guess going someplace is just a really nice place to be.
So i was having one of those days with all of these little inconveniences. things to do with waiting and buses and other little things ... it took several hours to just get to an appointment and run a small errand and get done with everything. it started to feel like an all day sort of thing ...
But something happened. 'Cause somewhere along through the day i came from some moment where the universe was obviously playing some game involving conspiracy against me, and moving into a completely different feeling. A feeling where everything is right in the world, or as right as it could be, a feeling of content in the moment.
I am looking for a new job and a place to live.
I am looking forward to graduating, REALLY graduating, in a little over a year.
I am looking forward to finding stable employment where I can make more money, and where my intellect will be valued, and where my skills will be applied.
I am looking forward to the content I'm going to feel when these things do happen, and enjoying the anticipation of knowing they will.
I am looking forward to making a budget and paying my bills and saving money, and looking forward to the satisfaction that comes along with the independence of knowing when the bills are coming, how much they will be, and just being able to pay them.
I am looking forward to being able to grocery shop and eat something other than grilled cheese or food from the restaurant where I work, and fuck, grilled cheese is good, but it's even more awesome when you can afford to have two kinds of cheese, or to add some mushrooms or avocado ...
I am looking forward to getting a new haircut and new clothes.
I am looking forward to saving my money and buying a nice old/new broken in car again, and cruising with some r&b and the windows down.
I am looking forward to so much there is very little time to look back on my mistakes, other than to say, "This is where I've been, and this is where I'm leading."
Because I have a lot going for me, a lot more to do, a lot more good coming my way. I guess going someplace is just a really nice place to be.
Labels: Goals, Spirituality
Friday, August 24, 2007
Sooo ... short and sweet
Something I've been thinking about: change. When I became vegetarian more than five years ago, a friend of mine told me it would help to think about all the new foods I was going to try instead of what I'd be "giving up." That way it would stay exciting and new and interesting, and the transition would be easier.
A few years later, one day I was in tears before I left for Seattle, and one thing that helped was when someone dear to me told me I wasn't leaving anything. Instead, I was only adding to my life. I would only add new people and places to my life. And she was right. I had only to add to my experience beautiful, lovely times I would remember forever. And people who would touch me forever, and the things they said to me also, long after they were gone.
I quit smoking several years ago, and then started again a couple of years later. But I quit again, nearly three months ago. And I am a nonsmoker. I know this now, because I have added to my life. I bike and run miles. I want to do long distance running, or a triathlon. Or be able to run without getting tired any time I want. To be able to keep up with puppies at the park and children at camp. To have energy to do the things I need to do and the things I love to do.
I also eat healthier. So I guess I've made a lot of positive changes. And physically, mentally, and spiritually it feels good. The difference is not what's been lost. Not you know, not smoking in itself, but waking up and going running, for example.
I think I would like from now on to look at all changes in this way. In a ... what is this going to add? way. Because then all change could be good, if you let it. All things lost would actually be creating space for something to be gained, rather than limiting it.
This just makes me so happy. It really does.
Newness is liberating. Learning and doing can keep you so young and curious. It's a wonderful feeling.
Something I've been thinking about: change. When I became vegetarian more than five years ago, a friend of mine told me it would help to think about all the new foods I was going to try instead of what I'd be "giving up." That way it would stay exciting and new and interesting, and the transition would be easier.
A few years later, one day I was in tears before I left for Seattle, and one thing that helped was when someone dear to me told me I wasn't leaving anything. Instead, I was only adding to my life. I would only add new people and places to my life. And she was right. I had only to add to my experience beautiful, lovely times I would remember forever. And people who would touch me forever, and the things they said to me also, long after they were gone.
I quit smoking several years ago, and then started again a couple of years later. But I quit again, nearly three months ago. And I am a nonsmoker. I know this now, because I have added to my life. I bike and run miles. I want to do long distance running, or a triathlon. Or be able to run without getting tired any time I want. To be able to keep up with puppies at the park and children at camp. To have energy to do the things I need to do and the things I love to do.
I also eat healthier. So I guess I've made a lot of positive changes. And physically, mentally, and spiritually it feels good. The difference is not what's been lost. Not you know, not smoking in itself, but waking up and going running, for example.
I think I would like from now on to look at all changes in this way. In a ... what is this going to add? way. Because then all change could be good, if you let it. All things lost would actually be creating space for something to be gained, rather than limiting it.
This just makes me so happy. It really does.
Newness is liberating. Learning and doing can keep you so young and curious. It's a wonderful feeling.
Labels: Change, Quitting Smoking, Seattle, Spirituality
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Recycled Air
I'm at the teashouse and it's cold, and the caffeine's giving me the shakes and there are a million things I want to read and write, or maybe I could just sit here and do a sudoku puzzle. I dunno ...
I do want to tell you something i learned this summer. One of the so many things, and that is to never be afraid of your own success. When I grow up, I want to be a writer, a teacher, a photographer, a philosopher, an athlete, and a musician ... but when I grow up is false. It implies some far away time. Like when you're a kid. Like the kids at camp. Like how the kids come on Sunday and cry sometimes because they can't imagine the weeklong lifetime they are about to experience without sometimes the dearest ones present -- their parents, or grandparents, or big brother, or dog, or the teddy bear they forgot at home even.
A week goes by, with all the time in between spent learning, doing new things, doing favorite things, making things, meeting people, or dancing when they never have before, or getting to play with food or shaving cream without getting in trouble, or being able to pick up an adult and dunk them underwater, or climbing a ladder to go down a slide that lasts forever ... until you reach the pool and want to get out and do it again.
And this says something about time. Something we've said before about time, but in a different way ... the part where the future is not far off from the present. That is exactly right. But it is something that, given the right perspective, can become a point of celebration.
I love you, ____. I still think you are beautiful, and intelligent, and articulate, and talented, and amazing. Please do not be afraid of your own success.
Sometimes i think in idealistic cliches, but then I wonder where they come from. I wonder where all these movies, like Dream for an Insomniac or Akeelah and the Bee come from. Are they based on fictional, irrational, theories for dreamers? Or are they based on the possibilities that lie inside every living thing in their potential for greatness as being of god, as beings formed by energy that moves with a will that is part of a greater, universal will.
I'm sorry to get cerebral here. I'm just as emotional. I've found it doesn't have to be hard to go between the two anymore. I have found that emotion and logic do indeed work together. I have found that as I suspected science and romance are the same thing (listen to Rilo Kiley's "Science vs. Romance" if you get a chance. That song is fucking amazing.)
It wasn't just Camp. It wasn't just new friends. It wasn't just therapy. I wish I could explain it better, but when words fall short, or become too much, I am reminded to simplify. And just as in meditation, sometimes the best thing to do is to clear your mind completely, blocking out memory, music, and the metaphorical weather of whatever is going on in the world, and feel deep down to your soul, spirit, will, inner child, whatever you want to call it because these words are only symbols, which is the point ... and listen to your intention, because rationalism does not always explain things the way they can be assumed. And in this case, my intention is to acknowledge something that was beautiful, and fun, and that had moments of inspiration, but something that has reached ... I don't know what ... I suddenly have this image in my mind of a ferry reaching the seattle skyline ... I guess in other words, and for lack of an original thought necessarily ... We've gotten where we needed to go.
And if you can conclude all of these things, and sincerely mean them, then I pray you will hold onto them dearly, in the face of whatever negativity you are digesting, and encountering, because the lessons, the feelings you are resurrecting from the depths of your mind and heart are the most important things that could ever come out of this entire experience, and having these things to hold, whether with me, near me, remembering me, talking to me, or just reading a book or mixing or not thinking at all ...
I've said it before, I'll say it again,
I believe in you. I love you. And I hope you, in time, will continue to remember the good parts, and that you will also be aware that no apologies are necessary ... that all this had a purpose, as this present moment does.
I will be here for you if you need me, always. At the moment this is hard, but it will get easier, because one of the things I have learned is that I am stronger than I have ever known. That any number of things, as you observed, could have broken me long ago. And so in being strong, as this does hurt even if I appear cold, I am comforted by my faith in myself and in you and the universe. And I wish you the best in finding out what that strength is for you -- because you have it too. Everyone does.
Believe me, because just as you can find proof for the theories that cause you to sink, or want to give up, or to shut down under the pressure ... you can, with the same eyes, the right pair of eyes (Hunter s. Thompson said) find proof to support a theory of something better and beautiful and comforting ...
I have to go.
But for what it's worth i know exactly what you have meant in everything you've said, and I want you to know that it is not too late to experience this or learn these things so long as you remember them and act on them.
It's like the part on Waking Life when the four guys are walking down the street, and they are talking about theory vs. action.
It's like addiction, whether to chocolate, or advil, or a way of thinking as habit. There's this model my shrink gave me. I don't know if I told you about it, but it had the steps of how to overcome ... whatever ... I honestly think it applies to everything ... but there's this part, this line, this stage I sat in for what seems like forever. It was the contemplation stage. The next stage was action.
I was so afraid of failing that I couldn't act. I've always felt like that. It's because of how I grew up. Not an excuse, just an unhealthy way of existing. So anyway, after the action phase, and a couple other steps, the last step was relapse, otherwise known as failure in my eyes ... but my shrink said, if you get to that one, you're not done for ... you just start at the beginning again.
And that's what life is about anyway. Robert fulghum said that long ago, and I read it in one of his books before i left for Seattle ... order to disorder to order again ...
Regardless, acknowledging this cycle gives me the perspective I need to keep things in line so I can handle less than perfect times ...
But the steps ... btw, it's not 12 steps. It's some theory in psychology ... but anyway, if you get to the end, and you look at how much and little, depending on your perspective, it took to get from the theory part to the action part, you start to believe in yourself, and the process, and you decide that it is amazing, and worthwhile, but not necessarily something you want to do again just to start at the beginning.
Now i suddenly wonder if you will understand. I see a slight contradiction in what I'm saying, but I don't. I guess it is all true ... Contradictions don't always disprove truths, but nevertheless, I will say that with these contemplations and actions and relapses, whatever the case, there are so many choices in between.
I feel i have made a very large tangent, but on the other hand, I have said exactly what is necessary, because thinking of things in these terms is just one facet of the jewel the Sandman gave to Daniel, and i know, though, because I believe in you, that seeing this one side may be enough to show you them all.
Okay, i have to go now, but thank you very much for everything. I do appreciate it. I really do. You taught me some things early on. Remember that when you think you need someone to tell you the things you already know.
Have a good day, sweetheart,
Love,
I'm at the teashouse and it's cold, and the caffeine's giving me the shakes and there are a million things I want to read and write, or maybe I could just sit here and do a sudoku puzzle. I dunno ...
I do want to tell you something i learned this summer. One of the so many things, and that is to never be afraid of your own success. When I grow up, I want to be a writer, a teacher, a photographer, a philosopher, an athlete, and a musician ... but when I grow up is false. It implies some far away time. Like when you're a kid. Like the kids at camp. Like how the kids come on Sunday and cry sometimes because they can't imagine the weeklong lifetime they are about to experience without sometimes the dearest ones present -- their parents, or grandparents, or big brother, or dog, or the teddy bear they forgot at home even.
A week goes by, with all the time in between spent learning, doing new things, doing favorite things, making things, meeting people, or dancing when they never have before, or getting to play with food or shaving cream without getting in trouble, or being able to pick up an adult and dunk them underwater, or climbing a ladder to go down a slide that lasts forever ... until you reach the pool and want to get out and do it again.
And this says something about time. Something we've said before about time, but in a different way ... the part where the future is not far off from the present. That is exactly right. But it is something that, given the right perspective, can become a point of celebration.
I love you, ____. I still think you are beautiful, and intelligent, and articulate, and talented, and amazing. Please do not be afraid of your own success.
Sometimes i think in idealistic cliches, but then I wonder where they come from. I wonder where all these movies, like Dream for an Insomniac or Akeelah and the Bee come from. Are they based on fictional, irrational, theories for dreamers? Or are they based on the possibilities that lie inside every living thing in their potential for greatness as being of god, as beings formed by energy that moves with a will that is part of a greater, universal will.
I'm sorry to get cerebral here. I'm just as emotional. I've found it doesn't have to be hard to go between the two anymore. I have found that emotion and logic do indeed work together. I have found that as I suspected science and romance are the same thing (listen to Rilo Kiley's "Science vs. Romance" if you get a chance. That song is fucking amazing.)
It wasn't just Camp. It wasn't just new friends. It wasn't just therapy. I wish I could explain it better, but when words fall short, or become too much, I am reminded to simplify. And just as in meditation, sometimes the best thing to do is to clear your mind completely, blocking out memory, music, and the metaphorical weather of whatever is going on in the world, and feel deep down to your soul, spirit, will, inner child, whatever you want to call it because these words are only symbols, which is the point ... and listen to your intention, because rationalism does not always explain things the way they can be assumed. And in this case, my intention is to acknowledge something that was beautiful, and fun, and that had moments of inspiration, but something that has reached ... I don't know what ... I suddenly have this image in my mind of a ferry reaching the seattle skyline ... I guess in other words, and for lack of an original thought necessarily ... We've gotten where we needed to go.
And if you can conclude all of these things, and sincerely mean them, then I pray you will hold onto them dearly, in the face of whatever negativity you are digesting, and encountering, because the lessons, the feelings you are resurrecting from the depths of your mind and heart are the most important things that could ever come out of this entire experience, and having these things to hold, whether with me, near me, remembering me, talking to me, or just reading a book or mixing or not thinking at all ...
I've said it before, I'll say it again,
I believe in you. I love you. And I hope you, in time, will continue to remember the good parts, and that you will also be aware that no apologies are necessary ... that all this had a purpose, as this present moment does.
I will be here for you if you need me, always. At the moment this is hard, but it will get easier, because one of the things I have learned is that I am stronger than I have ever known. That any number of things, as you observed, could have broken me long ago. And so in being strong, as this does hurt even if I appear cold, I am comforted by my faith in myself and in you and the universe. And I wish you the best in finding out what that strength is for you -- because you have it too. Everyone does.
Believe me, because just as you can find proof for the theories that cause you to sink, or want to give up, or to shut down under the pressure ... you can, with the same eyes, the right pair of eyes (Hunter s. Thompson said) find proof to support a theory of something better and beautiful and comforting ...
I have to go.
But for what it's worth i know exactly what you have meant in everything you've said, and I want you to know that it is not too late to experience this or learn these things so long as you remember them and act on them.
It's like the part on Waking Life when the four guys are walking down the street, and they are talking about theory vs. action.
It's like addiction, whether to chocolate, or advil, or a way of thinking as habit. There's this model my shrink gave me. I don't know if I told you about it, but it had the steps of how to overcome ... whatever ... I honestly think it applies to everything ... but there's this part, this line, this stage I sat in for what seems like forever. It was the contemplation stage. The next stage was action.
I was so afraid of failing that I couldn't act. I've always felt like that. It's because of how I grew up. Not an excuse, just an unhealthy way of existing. So anyway, after the action phase, and a couple other steps, the last step was relapse, otherwise known as failure in my eyes ... but my shrink said, if you get to that one, you're not done for ... you just start at the beginning again.
And that's what life is about anyway. Robert fulghum said that long ago, and I read it in one of his books before i left for Seattle ... order to disorder to order again ...
Regardless, acknowledging this cycle gives me the perspective I need to keep things in line so I can handle less than perfect times ...
But the steps ... btw, it's not 12 steps. It's some theory in psychology ... but anyway, if you get to the end, and you look at how much and little, depending on your perspective, it took to get from the theory part to the action part, you start to believe in yourself, and the process, and you decide that it is amazing, and worthwhile, but not necessarily something you want to do again just to start at the beginning.
Now i suddenly wonder if you will understand. I see a slight contradiction in what I'm saying, but I don't. I guess it is all true ... Contradictions don't always disprove truths, but nevertheless, I will say that with these contemplations and actions and relapses, whatever the case, there are so many choices in between.
I feel i have made a very large tangent, but on the other hand, I have said exactly what is necessary, because thinking of things in these terms is just one facet of the jewel the Sandman gave to Daniel, and i know, though, because I believe in you, that seeing this one side may be enough to show you them all.
Okay, i have to go now, but thank you very much for everything. I do appreciate it. I really do. You taught me some things early on. Remember that when you think you need someone to tell you the things you already know.
Have a good day, sweetheart,
Love,
Labels: Addiction, Camp, Career, Goals, Movies, Rilo Kiley, Seattle, Spirituality, Therapy, Work
Monday, February 19, 2007
Delighting in the freedom from the tyranny of events
As simple and complicated as this feels, it is going to be hard to articulate, but we'll see ...
Per esempio ...
Yesterday, my last table of the day ... It had been very busy, beginning around 9 a.m., and it finally died down, nearing two o'clock. I was sort of rejoicing in that in itself, admiring my messy, yet empty section, as I half-sat in a chair refilling sugar packets, counting five or six Splendas, Equals, Sweet 'n' Lows, putting them together, yellow, then blue, then pink, or maybe pink then yellow, then blue, then watching the three line up with the rest of the regular sugars, and thinking about that in some way while thinking of other things, and smiling over a busy yet calm, smooth, uneventful day ... uneventful in that it was smooth, and nice, and easy to smile, and so easy to give people what they wanted for some reason ... didn't really feel like working anymore, when I see a man sitting at my table from the corner of my eye.
"Would you like a menu, sir?" I asked, since he seemed to have seated himself. It was hard to tell if he was waiting on someone or if he was about to make a phone call, or maybe he wanted something to go.
Turns out, he wanted to stay. He had coffee and a large glass of water, no cream or sugar, and he ordered a French Slam.
Not the Mega French slam, which has three slices of Texas Toast with two eggs, hash browns, two bacon, and two sausage, which is cheaper. Just a French Slam: two pieces of french toast with two eggs, two bacon, and two sausage.
He ate quietly, thanked me politely and sincerely each time I came by. He read a newspaper, and when he finished, he stacked his clean plates up right in front of him.
I picked up the plates and thanked him, and smiled and told him to have a wonderful day, and just as I started to turn, he got up, and in getting up, he somehow knocked over the dessert table tent, which in turn knocked a stowaway full syrup cup, which in reaction flew off the table, and toward me.
It missed, but it did manage to create a sprawling thin line marking its path of flight like a sticky reminder of a shadow, all down the carpet reaching four or five feet across.
He apologized profusely. He seemed so embarrassed.
I assured him that it was not in the slightest a big deal at all, that it would only take a second to clean up, and not to worry about it at all, and reminded him to have a wonderful day.
I was sincere. In fact, the little incident reminded me of something, that everything happens at the appointed time, even little "unhappy accidents" that might cause breaks in the circle of thoughts or routine long enough to remind you of the present moment. To bring you right back, just as the broken plate that ricocheted into my hand that one time, cutting deeply, causing me pain, and scarring my hand did a couple of months ago.
The universe can communicate with you. It's language of communication is sometimes referred to as "the tyranny of events." The tyranny part is the part where they can be dangerously defined to mean more than they do, or inconvenient in that they remind you that you are not the only person around, but a small living part upon trillions of interconnected parts.
When I came out of the back with a broom to scrub the syrup, and poured boiling water onto the carpet to loosen it up, the man was at the register, sheepishly telling the story to Kim, the cashier, and I could hear him telling her to make sure she told me again that he was sorry.
Again I reassured the man, waving at him, and smiling, as I poured the water.
"See, I'm halfway done. It's really no big deal. Thank you ..." and I smiled at him again, and told him to enjoy the rest of the weekend.
And then I finished, and resumed cleaning my section again, spot-sweeping under the tables and arranging the chairs and table mats, when Kim came up to me and told me alone that the man left me a five dollar tip on his credit card, and hoped I would accept his apology.
That's exactly what I'm talking about.
Several events happened here that could have produced different outcomes, if my mind had reacted in detrimental ways as the mind can, uninformed of its own power in producing as part of the universe the tyranny of events themselves to communicate the things it might not be able to comprehend based on how obvious they truly are.
It had been a long, busy day.
I really was tired, although happy, and I felt my feet ache a little in a way I'm much of the time so used to that it doesn't matter.
A man seated himself at my table, obviously somehow bypassing the host stand, which is something of a faux pas, even at Denny's.
I had already left work mode, or at least, dealing with customers mode, and could have thought to myself how much I would rather enjoy taking in the small tasks one at a time until there were no more left, not wanting to add anything else to interrupt the clearly cut path laid out in front of me that might have otherwise defined my next couple of hours.
Then, the man, ever so polite and conscious of me, and manners, and his mind, whether he came to specifically do some thinking over breakfast or not, accidently makes a mess.
And it was the best part of my day.
And it feels so good to recognize that. It really does.
As simple and complicated as this feels, it is going to be hard to articulate, but we'll see ...
Per esempio ...
Yesterday, my last table of the day ... It had been very busy, beginning around 9 a.m., and it finally died down, nearing two o'clock. I was sort of rejoicing in that in itself, admiring my messy, yet empty section, as I half-sat in a chair refilling sugar packets, counting five or six Splendas, Equals, Sweet 'n' Lows, putting them together, yellow, then blue, then pink, or maybe pink then yellow, then blue, then watching the three line up with the rest of the regular sugars, and thinking about that in some way while thinking of other things, and smiling over a busy yet calm, smooth, uneventful day ... uneventful in that it was smooth, and nice, and easy to smile, and so easy to give people what they wanted for some reason ... didn't really feel like working anymore, when I see a man sitting at my table from the corner of my eye.
"Would you like a menu, sir?" I asked, since he seemed to have seated himself. It was hard to tell if he was waiting on someone or if he was about to make a phone call, or maybe he wanted something to go.
Turns out, he wanted to stay. He had coffee and a large glass of water, no cream or sugar, and he ordered a French Slam.
Not the Mega French slam, which has three slices of Texas Toast with two eggs, hash browns, two bacon, and two sausage, which is cheaper. Just a French Slam: two pieces of french toast with two eggs, two bacon, and two sausage.
He ate quietly, thanked me politely and sincerely each time I came by. He read a newspaper, and when he finished, he stacked his clean plates up right in front of him.
I picked up the plates and thanked him, and smiled and told him to have a wonderful day, and just as I started to turn, he got up, and in getting up, he somehow knocked over the dessert table tent, which in turn knocked a stowaway full syrup cup, which in reaction flew off the table, and toward me.
It missed, but it did manage to create a sprawling thin line marking its path of flight like a sticky reminder of a shadow, all down the carpet reaching four or five feet across.
He apologized profusely. He seemed so embarrassed.
I assured him that it was not in the slightest a big deal at all, that it would only take a second to clean up, and not to worry about it at all, and reminded him to have a wonderful day.
I was sincere. In fact, the little incident reminded me of something, that everything happens at the appointed time, even little "unhappy accidents" that might cause breaks in the circle of thoughts or routine long enough to remind you of the present moment. To bring you right back, just as the broken plate that ricocheted into my hand that one time, cutting deeply, causing me pain, and scarring my hand did a couple of months ago.
The universe can communicate with you. It's language of communication is sometimes referred to as "the tyranny of events." The tyranny part is the part where they can be dangerously defined to mean more than they do, or inconvenient in that they remind you that you are not the only person around, but a small living part upon trillions of interconnected parts.
When I came out of the back with a broom to scrub the syrup, and poured boiling water onto the carpet to loosen it up, the man was at the register, sheepishly telling the story to Kim, the cashier, and I could hear him telling her to make sure she told me again that he was sorry.
Again I reassured the man, waving at him, and smiling, as I poured the water.
"See, I'm halfway done. It's really no big deal. Thank you ..." and I smiled at him again, and told him to enjoy the rest of the weekend.
And then I finished, and resumed cleaning my section again, spot-sweeping under the tables and arranging the chairs and table mats, when Kim came up to me and told me alone that the man left me a five dollar tip on his credit card, and hoped I would accept his apology.
That's exactly what I'm talking about.
Several events happened here that could have produced different outcomes, if my mind had reacted in detrimental ways as the mind can, uninformed of its own power in producing as part of the universe the tyranny of events themselves to communicate the things it might not be able to comprehend based on how obvious they truly are.
It had been a long, busy day.
I really was tired, although happy, and I felt my feet ache a little in a way I'm much of the time so used to that it doesn't matter.
A man seated himself at my table, obviously somehow bypassing the host stand, which is something of a faux pas, even at Denny's.
I had already left work mode, or at least, dealing with customers mode, and could have thought to myself how much I would rather enjoy taking in the small tasks one at a time until there were no more left, not wanting to add anything else to interrupt the clearly cut path laid out in front of me that might have otherwise defined my next couple of hours.
Then, the man, ever so polite and conscious of me, and manners, and his mind, whether he came to specifically do some thinking over breakfast or not, accidently makes a mess.
And it was the best part of my day.
And it feels so good to recognize that. It really does.
Labels: Buddhism, Spirituality, Work
Just because everything comes at the appointed time ...
(2/17/07)
doesn't mean you don't have to create a space for the appointed to inhabit. Fuck yeah.
I just wanted to share that, I guess. Sensory overload. Got much on my mind and I'm too happy and too much enjoying the chaotic sensibility to overanalyze it just yet. But fuck, I've had an amazing day.
Scratch that, I've had an amazing couple of hours, in which i would like to think i spent working to become mindful in order to bring me to some moment where I was ready to go home thinking and feeling happier than I was when I arrived to the place where i decided to sit down and think at all.
And you know what rules? I mean, what rules the fuck out of ruling at all?
It worked, dude. and I'm basking in the victory of good vs. so much less than good, in my own mind.
Rad.
(2/17/07)
doesn't mean you don't have to create a space for the appointed to inhabit. Fuck yeah.
I just wanted to share that, I guess. Sensory overload. Got much on my mind and I'm too happy and too much enjoying the chaotic sensibility to overanalyze it just yet. But fuck, I've had an amazing day.
Scratch that, I've had an amazing couple of hours, in which i would like to think i spent working to become mindful in order to bring me to some moment where I was ready to go home thinking and feeling happier than I was when I arrived to the place where i decided to sit down and think at all.
And you know what rules? I mean, what rules the fuck out of ruling at all?
It worked, dude. and I'm basking in the victory of good vs. so much less than good, in my own mind.
Rad.
Labels: Books, Buddhism, Spirituality
