Maybe I was just spoiled. Maybe the fact that I grew up in a notoriously wealthy community (although I was raised in a single-parent, middle-class family) and was sent to private schools where we, as students, were held to high standards of intelligence, community interaction and involvement, leadership, communication skills, and the ability to question the world around us set us apart from the majority of the country.
Granted, I am young, and have much to learn, see and do, but in the 7 years since I have left home to live on my own, I have lived in a small mountain town in the middle of the country as well as one of the largest metropolitan cities in the U.S., and I have traveled in 5 countries, one of which was a third-world subcontinent. One common strand of truth I have come to find in my minute and relatively insignificant experiences post-bubble is that everywhere I have gone, I have ceaselessly encountered people who have humbled me with their wisdom, baffled me with their perception of the world around them and beyond, and brought me to my knees with the realization of how much I have yet to learn about life and this crazy mess of humanity in which we are all intimately intertwined.
What's my point?
My point is that, contrary to common belief (and admittedly my own cynicism), people aren't stupid. One could travel halfway around the world, or walk to their local coffee shop, and the chances of meeting somebody who will completely alter your views of truth, reality, love, justice, humility, knowledge or wisdom are equally great.
So why, then, does our country...the United Fucking States of America...the alleged leaders of the Free World (whatever that means)...continue to elect STUPID people as our leaders?? It absolutely baffles me.
When I watched Governor Palin speak in her oh-so-exclusive interview with Katie Couric, I was not only insulted by her complete inability to answer a simple question...or by her characteristically Republican manner of defaulting to one parachute phrase when faced with a challenging question ("...did I mention people call him 'Maverick?'...), but I was genuinely confused. How is it possible that this woman is even being considered to help rule the United States of America??
When asked to explain her experience with foreign policy (even though she was just issued a passport for the first time in her entire life a year ago) her response was that Alaska borders Russia and Canada..."two foreign countries!!" Oh ya...that and the fact that foreign aircrafts fly over Alaska (which, first of all, isn't even true). ...Seriously?? SERIOUSLY????
Have the American people become calloused to the incompetence and blatant lack of intelligence that has embodied our leadership for the past 8 years? Have we lowered our standards by default, or have we just lost hope in the idea of dependable leaders?
A leader is supposed to be someone who inspires us to reach higher, to strive for greatness, to believe in our ability as individuals and as a nation to be extraordinary. A leader is someone with the patience and insight to be able to observe and admit the mistakes we have made as a country and a human race, and who ACTS, not TALKS, about making positive progress and necessary changes in the way we impact one another and the world around us. A leader is someone with the grace to rise above self-interest, and with the integrity to make decisions for the good of the whole. Most importantly, a leader is someone who makes all of these seemingly romanticized and idealistic values of which I speak a reality and not a joke.
We, as human beings, have dumbfounding potential. Our race (and by that I mean the human race) has the ability to singlehandedly create a world that nurtures and embodies everything that we need and desire. We have the ability to create balance among ourselves and with the delicate world in which we live. We have the ability to make wise decisions, to see beyond ourselves and our own limited experiences and beliefs, and to coexist with one another despite our differences. It might sound far-fetched, but the reality is, WE HAVE THE ABILITY!!!!!
Why, then, do we settle for the bottom of the heap? What is it that is standing in our way of allowing progress to happen? Is it the overwhelming fear that the current administration - along with their media puppets - have injected into the hearts and minds of all Americans so that they can create an illusion of being our knights in shining armor who save us from the evil terrorists....or imminent economic depression (which THEY have caused)...?? Are we really so blind that we can't see through that??? Have we become so immune to the Federal Government's sticky fingers from dipping their hands in foreign oil investments for the sake of keeping the rich rich and the poor...well...disregarded....that we have actually come to ACCEPT this??
Seriously, people. The jig is fucking up! We need CHANGE!!!!!!!!!!!
It's no longer about partisan identity. It's about character. Throughout this election process we have witnessed the routine, run-of-the-mill political drama unfold. It hasn't just been the Republicans. Hillary did it too. The finger-pointing, the hearsay, the gloves raised and the guns blazing throughout the typical showdown. But one candidate has remained steadfast, calm, collected, present, aware, humble, and honest throughout the ENTIRE campaign. When Obama was bashed for his involvement with Rev. Wright after his publicized racist remarks, Obama did not falter. He absorbed the responsibility, acknowledged and stood by his previous relationship with the Reverend, and instead of throwing a left hook out of defense, or taking the opportunity to play the "I'm black" card, he spoke about how the issue of racism spurred by this event applies to the American people. He took a personal attack and used it as an opportunity to speak to the needs and well-being of the entire nation, while still accepting all necessary responsibility.
When McCain tried to pull a typical Republican hero move by claiming valiantly that he was going to suspend his campaign in order to address the economic crisis at hand (while simultaneously completely shifting his historical views on regulation), Obama responded by saying that a leader must be able to juggle multiple taks as they arise. While the nation watched as McCain's risky stunt landed him flat on his face, Obama has remained steadfast.
I am anxious and hopeful that tonight's debates will reveal even more clarity to the American people that Obama and Biden greatly outshine the dull and tired Republican team that has, unfortunately, carried on the torch of bullshit that their predecessors have kept burning for the past 8 years.
To register to vote, visit www.voteforchange.com
Friday, September 26, 2008
Definition of a Republican
It is my belief that, in Webster's Dictionary of the English Language, there should be an amendment under the definition of "Republican (n)" to read: one skilled at the art of being asked the same question repeatedly and never managing to answer it.
Seriously?? What are these Republicans putting in their bran flakes?
Seriously?? What are these Republicans putting in their bran flakes?
Saturday, July 19, 2008
The Artist's Way - Week 11 (by Julia Cameron)
"I am an artist. As an artist, I may need a different mix of stability and flow from other people. I may find that a nine-to-five job steadies me and leaves me freer to create. Or I may find that a nine-to-five drains me of energy and leaves me unable to create. I must experiment with what works for me
An artist's cash flow is typically erratic. No law says we must be broke all the time, but the odds are good we may be broke some of the time. Good work will sometimes not sell. People will buy but not pay promptly. The market may be rotten even when the work is great. I cannot control these factors. Being true to the inner artist often results in work that sells - but not always. I have to free myself from determining my value and the value of my work by my work's market value.
The idea that money validates my credibility is very hard to shake. If money determines real art, then Gauguin was a charlatan. As an artist, I may never have a home that looks like Town And Country - or I may. On the other hand, I may have a book of poems, a song, a piece of performance art, a film.
I must learn that as an artist my credibility lies with me, God, and my work. In other words, if I have a poem to write, I need to write that poem - whether it will sell or not.
I need to create what wants to be created. I cannot plan a career to unfold in a sensible direction dictated by cash flow and marketing strategies. Those things are fine, but too much attention to them can stifle the child within, who gets scared and angered when continually put off. Children, as we all know, do not deal well with "Later. Not now."
Since my artist is a child, the natural child within, I must make some concessions to is sense of timing. SOME concessions does not mean total irresponsibility. What it means is letting the artist have quality time, knowing that if I let it do what it wants to it will cooperate with me in doing what I need to do.
Sometimes I will write badly, draw badly, paint badly, perform badly. I have a right to do that to get to the other side. Creativity is its own reward.
As an artist, I must be very careful to surround myself with people who nurture my artist - not people who try to overly domesticate it for my own good. Certain friendships will kick off my artistic imagination and others will deaden it.
I may be a good cook, a rotten housekeeper, and strong artist. I am messy, disorganized except as pertains to writing, a demon for creative detail, and not real interested in details like polished shoes and floors.
To a large degree my life is my art, and when it gets dull, so does my work. As an artist, I may poke into what other people think of as dead ends: a punk band that I mysteriously fall for, a piece of gospel music that hooks my inner ear, a piece of red silk I just like and add to a nice outfit, thereby "ruining it."
As an artist, I may frizz my hair or wear weird clothes. I may spend too much money on perfume in a pretty blue bottle even though the perfume stinks because the bottle lets me write about Paris in the 1930's.
As an artist, I write whether I think it's any good or not. I shoot movies other people may hate. I sketch bad sketches to say "I was in this room. I was happy. It was May and I was meeting somebody I wanted to meet."
As an artist, my self-respect comes from doing the work. One performance at a time, one gig at a time, one song at a time. Six years to write one decent song that I am willing to play for other people. Throughout it all, daily, I show up at the morning pages and I write about my ugly curtains, my rotten haircut, my delight in the way the light hit the trees on the morning run.
As an artist, I do not need to be rich, but I do need to be richly supported. I cannot allow my emotional and intellectual life to stagnate or the work will show it. My life will show it. My temperament will show it. If I don't create, I get crabby.
As an artist, I can literally die from boredom. I kill myself when I fail to nurture my artist child because I am acting like somebody else's idea of an adult. The more I nurture my artist child, the more adult I am able to appear. Spoiling my artist means it will let me type a business letter. Ignoring my artist means a grinding depression.
There is a connection between self-nurturing and self-respect. If I allow myself to be bullied and cowed by other people's urges for me to be more normal or more nice, I sell myself out. They may like me better, feel more comfortable with my more conventional appearance or behavior, but I will hate myself. Hating myself, I may lash out at myself and others.
If I sabotage my artist, I can well expect an eating binge, a sex binge, a temper binge. When we are not creating, artists are not always very normal or very nice - to ourselves or to others.
Creativity is oxygen for our souls. Cutting off our creativity makes us savage. We react like we are being choked. There is a real rage that surfaces when we are interfered with on a level that involves picking lint off of us and fixing us up. When well-meaning parents and friends push marriage or 9-5 jobs or anything on us that doesnt evolve in a way that allows for our art to continue, we will react as though we are fighting for our lives - we are.
To be an artist is to recognize the particular. To appreciate the peculiar. To allow a sense of play in your relationship to accepted standards. To ask the question "Why?" To be an artist is to risk admitting that much of what is money, property and prestige strikes you as just a little silly.
To be an artist is to acknowledge the astonishing. It is to allow the wrong piece in a room if we like it. It is to hang onto a weird coat that makes us happy. It is to not keep trying to be something that we aren't.
If you are happier writing than not writing, singing than not singing, photographing than not photographing, for God's sake (and I mean that literally) let yourself do it.
To kill your dreams because they are irresponsible is to be irresponsible for yourself. Credibility lies with you and God - not with a vote of your friends, parents and acquaintances.
Creativity is a spiritual practice. It is not something that can be perfected, finished and set aside.
The creator made us creative. Our creativity is our gift FROM God. Our use of it is our gift TO God. Accepting this bargain is the beginning of true self-acceptance."
An artist's cash flow is typically erratic. No law says we must be broke all the time, but the odds are good we may be broke some of the time. Good work will sometimes not sell. People will buy but not pay promptly. The market may be rotten even when the work is great. I cannot control these factors. Being true to the inner artist often results in work that sells - but not always. I have to free myself from determining my value and the value of my work by my work's market value.
The idea that money validates my credibility is very hard to shake. If money determines real art, then Gauguin was a charlatan. As an artist, I may never have a home that looks like Town And Country - or I may. On the other hand, I may have a book of poems, a song, a piece of performance art, a film.
I must learn that as an artist my credibility lies with me, God, and my work. In other words, if I have a poem to write, I need to write that poem - whether it will sell or not.
I need to create what wants to be created. I cannot plan a career to unfold in a sensible direction dictated by cash flow and marketing strategies. Those things are fine, but too much attention to them can stifle the child within, who gets scared and angered when continually put off. Children, as we all know, do not deal well with "Later. Not now."
Since my artist is a child, the natural child within, I must make some concessions to is sense of timing. SOME concessions does not mean total irresponsibility. What it means is letting the artist have quality time, knowing that if I let it do what it wants to it will cooperate with me in doing what I need to do.
Sometimes I will write badly, draw badly, paint badly, perform badly. I have a right to do that to get to the other side. Creativity is its own reward.
As an artist, I must be very careful to surround myself with people who nurture my artist - not people who try to overly domesticate it for my own good. Certain friendships will kick off my artistic imagination and others will deaden it.
I may be a good cook, a rotten housekeeper, and strong artist. I am messy, disorganized except as pertains to writing, a demon for creative detail, and not real interested in details like polished shoes and floors.
To a large degree my life is my art, and when it gets dull, so does my work. As an artist, I may poke into what other people think of as dead ends: a punk band that I mysteriously fall for, a piece of gospel music that hooks my inner ear, a piece of red silk I just like and add to a nice outfit, thereby "ruining it."
As an artist, I may frizz my hair or wear weird clothes. I may spend too much money on perfume in a pretty blue bottle even though the perfume stinks because the bottle lets me write about Paris in the 1930's.
As an artist, I write whether I think it's any good or not. I shoot movies other people may hate. I sketch bad sketches to say "I was in this room. I was happy. It was May and I was meeting somebody I wanted to meet."
As an artist, my self-respect comes from doing the work. One performance at a time, one gig at a time, one song at a time. Six years to write one decent song that I am willing to play for other people. Throughout it all, daily, I show up at the morning pages and I write about my ugly curtains, my rotten haircut, my delight in the way the light hit the trees on the morning run.
As an artist, I do not need to be rich, but I do need to be richly supported. I cannot allow my emotional and intellectual life to stagnate or the work will show it. My life will show it. My temperament will show it. If I don't create, I get crabby.
As an artist, I can literally die from boredom. I kill myself when I fail to nurture my artist child because I am acting like somebody else's idea of an adult. The more I nurture my artist child, the more adult I am able to appear. Spoiling my artist means it will let me type a business letter. Ignoring my artist means a grinding depression.
There is a connection between self-nurturing and self-respect. If I allow myself to be bullied and cowed by other people's urges for me to be more normal or more nice, I sell myself out. They may like me better, feel more comfortable with my more conventional appearance or behavior, but I will hate myself. Hating myself, I may lash out at myself and others.
If I sabotage my artist, I can well expect an eating binge, a sex binge, a temper binge. When we are not creating, artists are not always very normal or very nice - to ourselves or to others.
Creativity is oxygen for our souls. Cutting off our creativity makes us savage. We react like we are being choked. There is a real rage that surfaces when we are interfered with on a level that involves picking lint off of us and fixing us up. When well-meaning parents and friends push marriage or 9-5 jobs or anything on us that doesnt evolve in a way that allows for our art to continue, we will react as though we are fighting for our lives - we are.
To be an artist is to recognize the particular. To appreciate the peculiar. To allow a sense of play in your relationship to accepted standards. To ask the question "Why?" To be an artist is to risk admitting that much of what is money, property and prestige strikes you as just a little silly.
To be an artist is to acknowledge the astonishing. It is to allow the wrong piece in a room if we like it. It is to hang onto a weird coat that makes us happy. It is to not keep trying to be something that we aren't.
If you are happier writing than not writing, singing than not singing, photographing than not photographing, for God's sake (and I mean that literally) let yourself do it.
To kill your dreams because they are irresponsible is to be irresponsible for yourself. Credibility lies with you and God - not with a vote of your friends, parents and acquaintances.
Creativity is a spiritual practice. It is not something that can be perfected, finished and set aside.
The creator made us creative. Our creativity is our gift FROM God. Our use of it is our gift TO God. Accepting this bargain is the beginning of true self-acceptance."
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
"Leggo My Ego"
I have this friend (who will remain unnamed) who adores Oprah. She even once uttered the words "if Oprah told me to jump off a bridge, I'd do it." I love my friend dearly, and while I dont claim to have the same allegiance to Oprah, I AM admittedly on the bandwagon of her recent endorsement of Eckhart Tolle's new book "A New Earth."
It's a dense and heady read, and it's one of those books that has been taking me much longer than most books to get through (since I tend to read at night when I'm winding down to attempt to go to sleep), as I find myself having to read it like a text book in order to actually process the information and ideas being employed. While dense and heady, it is also quite simple in its lessons...but in that way that most valid spiritual philosophies are "simple." The idea that our attachment to pleasure and our aversion to pain is what causes all suffering is a "simple" concept to intellectualize, but somehow immensely and painstakingly impossible to put into our bank of permanent experiential wisdom.
But, in that warm, fuzzy Oprah-like fashion, I can't help but find humbling and obvious relevance to what Tolle is saying in each new section that I read (and re-read with a highliter).
Tonight's section honed in on "Reactivity and Grievances." At the core of Tolle's philosophies (at least from what I've read so far) is this concept of the "Ego." I know this word gets tossed around in social and psychological contexts left and right, but (if I may so boldly attempt to reiterate) Tolle explains the "Ego" as being the illusion of self that we perceive as separating us from everyone (and everything) else. That is to say, there is no distinction. There are no distinctions. This human tendency to create an illusion of dinstinction and separateness is what Tolle sees as being the root dysfunction of humanity.
I couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed as I read through the few pages that break down with such poignant brevity the unnecessary harm that grievances can cause in our lives. While I consider myself to be one who, at the very least, strives to live progressively and consiously, I couldn't help but shake my head at how much power I have allowed personal, petty grievances disrupt my life and peace of mind.
I'll quote Tolle: "A grievance is a strong negative emotion connected to an event in the sometimes distant past that is being kept alive by compulsive thinking, by retelling the story in the head or out loud of 'what someone did to me.'"
Jesus...how many nights have I sat up much later than I should have only to mentally rant about how pissed off I was at so-and-so for doing that utterly dispicable thing "to me??" it's amazing how much power we can give away...not even TO others (because that would just be another illusion of the ego, right?) ...but just to the power of negativity. Tolle points out that in holding grudges, you are essentially saying "I am right, and THEY are wrong." Not only is this a compelte and utter indulgence of the ego, but it is useless as well.
"The truth, in any case, needs no defense" Tolle says. (Duh, right?) If one is trying to defend what they perceive as being the "truth" of a situation, it is a wasted effort, since the truth will be true regardless of whether or not someone is there to defend it. Defending a perceived truth is merely indulging in an emotional reaction to a situation, and a further abuse of the ego. And let's face it...when do we ever really defend the "Truth" so much as our opinion of what we think is right or wrong. It is only in gaining the awareness to make the distinction between an event and our emotions surrounding that event that allow us to free ourselves from these harbored grievances and negative reactions.
"Stick to the facts," Tolle says.
Again, easier said than done, but I can't ignore the blatancy of the truth in what Tolle is saying.
He goes on to address the more mundane human reality of this practice as well. "Don't try to let go of the grievances," he says. "Trying to let go, to forgive, does not work. Forgiveness happens naturally when you see that it has no purpose other than to strengthen a false sense of self, to keep the ego in place."
Alright, Eckhart. I'm workin' on it. I guess I could surrender my plans to egg the car of that one guy who screwed me over back in high school (or the one who screwed me over a month ago) in the name of personal growth.
Just kidding about the egging, of course...
...kind of.
It's a dense and heady read, and it's one of those books that has been taking me much longer than most books to get through (since I tend to read at night when I'm winding down to attempt to go to sleep), as I find myself having to read it like a text book in order to actually process the information and ideas being employed. While dense and heady, it is also quite simple in its lessons...but in that way that most valid spiritual philosophies are "simple." The idea that our attachment to pleasure and our aversion to pain is what causes all suffering is a "simple" concept to intellectualize, but somehow immensely and painstakingly impossible to put into our bank of permanent experiential wisdom.
But, in that warm, fuzzy Oprah-like fashion, I can't help but find humbling and obvious relevance to what Tolle is saying in each new section that I read (and re-read with a highliter).
Tonight's section honed in on "Reactivity and Grievances." At the core of Tolle's philosophies (at least from what I've read so far) is this concept of the "Ego." I know this word gets tossed around in social and psychological contexts left and right, but (if I may so boldly attempt to reiterate) Tolle explains the "Ego" as being the illusion of self that we perceive as separating us from everyone (and everything) else. That is to say, there is no distinction. There are no distinctions. This human tendency to create an illusion of dinstinction and separateness is what Tolle sees as being the root dysfunction of humanity.
I couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed as I read through the few pages that break down with such poignant brevity the unnecessary harm that grievances can cause in our lives. While I consider myself to be one who, at the very least, strives to live progressively and consiously, I couldn't help but shake my head at how much power I have allowed personal, petty grievances disrupt my life and peace of mind.
I'll quote Tolle: "A grievance is a strong negative emotion connected to an event in the sometimes distant past that is being kept alive by compulsive thinking, by retelling the story in the head or out loud of 'what someone did to me.'"
Jesus...how many nights have I sat up much later than I should have only to mentally rant about how pissed off I was at so-and-so for doing that utterly dispicable thing "to me??" it's amazing how much power we can give away...not even TO others (because that would just be another illusion of the ego, right?) ...but just to the power of negativity. Tolle points out that in holding grudges, you are essentially saying "I am right, and THEY are wrong." Not only is this a compelte and utter indulgence of the ego, but it is useless as well.
"The truth, in any case, needs no defense" Tolle says. (Duh, right?) If one is trying to defend what they perceive as being the "truth" of a situation, it is a wasted effort, since the truth will be true regardless of whether or not someone is there to defend it. Defending a perceived truth is merely indulging in an emotional reaction to a situation, and a further abuse of the ego. And let's face it...when do we ever really defend the "Truth" so much as our opinion of what we think is right or wrong. It is only in gaining the awareness to make the distinction between an event and our emotions surrounding that event that allow us to free ourselves from these harbored grievances and negative reactions.
"Stick to the facts," Tolle says.
Again, easier said than done, but I can't ignore the blatancy of the truth in what Tolle is saying.
He goes on to address the more mundane human reality of this practice as well. "Don't try to let go of the grievances," he says. "Trying to let go, to forgive, does not work. Forgiveness happens naturally when you see that it has no purpose other than to strengthen a false sense of self, to keep the ego in place."
Alright, Eckhart. I'm workin' on it. I guess I could surrender my plans to egg the car of that one guy who screwed me over back in high school (or the one who screwed me over a month ago) in the name of personal growth.
Just kidding about the egging, of course...
...kind of.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
"Civilization is a slow process of adopting the ideas of minorities." - Herbert Prochnow
Granted, I'm fully aware that the quote titled above was refering to "minorities" in a slightly different context, but I found the quote to be suitably relevent to the recent news that our country is finally starting to venture down an exciting and progressive path by nominating Barack Obama as our Democratic presidential candidate.
Let me just take a moment to sidestep from the formalities and say "HELL FUCKING YA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I am not, by any means, what most would define as a "politcal" person. I think that power (as defined by those typically involved in politics) is a figment of the human ego, and the means by which so many people seek to obtain it, a cringe-worthy offense to true human potential. I, personally, tend to rebel against structure, and even moreso against anyone trying to impose it upon me.
...That said...after the planes hit the twin towers in 2001, I started paying attention, and when we declared war in Iraq in 2003, I started getting angry. And when America (supposedly) re-elected George W. Bush in 2004, I cried, and vowed to make some changes in my own life to ensure that I, at the very least, would never contribute to such an ignorant and revolting decision. I know I'm not alone in this. Speaking for my age group in general, since I have been legally able to vote in any kind of election, George W. Bush has been president. Since I, personally, have been "awake" to the political world, to the state of our country and government, and to the perspectives that other nations hold of America, I have become conditioned to assume that any words uttered by our nation's leader were lies. I have becomed conditioned to believe that any decision he makes is most likely out of nothing other than self-interest and deceit, and that any decision worthy enough of making for the betterment of the whole (country, world, planet...) would probably get tossed aside with disregard.
The notion that the leader of the free world, the most "powerful" man on earth, could be someone to look up to, someone to honor, someone to trust and believe in...and not just someone whose face is printed on rolls of toilet paper along with a list of idiotic things that have come out of his mouth...has been completely foreign to me...
...until now.
I first saw Barack Obama speak at a Democratic fundraiser in LA back in 2004 (when people were still hopefully energized by the chance that John Kerry would win the election over Bush). He spoke last, followed by other well-known senators like Clinton and Edwards. All of the preceding speakers took their stance at the podium, and put on a good enough show, speaking in that one tone that politicians speak in that could be classified as "Shakespeare for the modern day political stage." I couldn't tell you a damn thing about any of their speeches other than the fact that they spoke with all the appropriate intonations that registered in my brain as typical political "bla bla bla BLA bla bla..." I mean...I clapped and everything.
But then Obama came out. I had heard his name before, but honestly wasn't totally sure who he was at that point. I remember so clearly watching him walk on stage. He was carrying one of Chad Smith's drum sticks (the Chili Peppers had just performed) and laughing at something that Flea said to him as he was walking up to the stage. He had that classic Obama smile that makes you just giggle like a little girl (or a 25 year old one), and he walked up to the podium, took the microphone off the platform and held it in his hand as he walked up to the front of the stage and looked out at the crowd. He was fully present. Everybody...EVERYBODY...was quiet, and looking directly at him. He had that effortless charisma that is so genuine and natural and innate to him, and he just...talked. He talked TO us, rather than AT us. And while, 4 years later, my memory doesn't hold the exact words he used, I remember being fully engaged while he spoke. People in the crowd nodded and furled their eyebrows as if they were thinking "dude....TOTALLY!" I felt like I was sitting in a coffeeshop with him and we were drinking nonfat lattes and splitting a banana bread slice and he was telling me about his thoughts on how the world could be a better place while I sat there and listened intently (while eating slightly more than my half of the banana bread because he was talking instead of eating...I do that sometimes).
I remember calling home and talking to my stepdad (who is passionately FOR anything AGAINST Bush) about Obama. He was well aware of him, and he talked to me about how what our country really needs is for someone like Obama to be our president. We laughed dreamingly about the notion of that, and how far-fetched it seemed at that point.
Tonight, four years later, I called my stepdad, yelling at the top of my lungs with excitement over the recent news of Obama's candiacy for president...and he spoke with just as much passion about his belief that this 46 year old man...this 46 year old black man...who worked his way to where he is through hard, honest, selfless and purely-intentioned WORK (something George W. Bush knows nothing about)...has such immense potential to truly turn this nation around. "What a juxtaposition," my stepdad said...to have the past 8 years of disheartening lies, deceit, war, selfishness and alienation on the part of George W. Bush, followed by the possibility of Barack Obama being not only the first African American president, but more importantly, an overwhelmingly qualified candidate to make some desperately needed changes in perspective and action. Perspective of America in the eyes of the world, and perspective of the government in the eyes of the American people. Action to clear away the cobwebs of the old, obsolete methods of leadership in this country that have held us back from taking steps forward in the areas of civil rights, international relations, health care, education, and the environmental crisis.
And here I am, 7 years since my eligibility as a participating American citizen, and I am finally understanding what it means to have a (potential) leader in whom I have full trust, who I believe is not only fully capable of making this country - and the lives of the people in it - better, but who will actually follow through on his word to do so. I understand what it might be like to have a president whose words fill my mind with possibility and my heart with hope and the motivation to get involved in what can potentially be a massive movement toward a nation that represents progress, forward-thinking, and modern, relevant virtues. I can catch a glimpse of what it's like to be an American and be proud...proud of our leader who inspires us to think and to act from a place of positive growth.
Man...here's hoping.
Barack Obama for President, biotch!
Let me just take a moment to sidestep from the formalities and say "HELL FUCKING YA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I am not, by any means, what most would define as a "politcal" person. I think that power (as defined by those typically involved in politics) is a figment of the human ego, and the means by which so many people seek to obtain it, a cringe-worthy offense to true human potential. I, personally, tend to rebel against structure, and even moreso against anyone trying to impose it upon me.
...That said...after the planes hit the twin towers in 2001, I started paying attention, and when we declared war in Iraq in 2003, I started getting angry. And when America (supposedly) re-elected George W. Bush in 2004, I cried, and vowed to make some changes in my own life to ensure that I, at the very least, would never contribute to such an ignorant and revolting decision. I know I'm not alone in this. Speaking for my age group in general, since I have been legally able to vote in any kind of election, George W. Bush has been president. Since I, personally, have been "awake" to the political world, to the state of our country and government, and to the perspectives that other nations hold of America, I have become conditioned to assume that any words uttered by our nation's leader were lies. I have becomed conditioned to believe that any decision he makes is most likely out of nothing other than self-interest and deceit, and that any decision worthy enough of making for the betterment of the whole (country, world, planet...) would probably get tossed aside with disregard.
The notion that the leader of the free world, the most "powerful" man on earth, could be someone to look up to, someone to honor, someone to trust and believe in...and not just someone whose face is printed on rolls of toilet paper along with a list of idiotic things that have come out of his mouth...has been completely foreign to me...
...until now.
I first saw Barack Obama speak at a Democratic fundraiser in LA back in 2004 (when people were still hopefully energized by the chance that John Kerry would win the election over Bush). He spoke last, followed by other well-known senators like Clinton and Edwards. All of the preceding speakers took their stance at the podium, and put on a good enough show, speaking in that one tone that politicians speak in that could be classified as "Shakespeare for the modern day political stage." I couldn't tell you a damn thing about any of their speeches other than the fact that they spoke with all the appropriate intonations that registered in my brain as typical political "bla bla bla BLA bla bla..." I mean...I clapped and everything.
But then Obama came out. I had heard his name before, but honestly wasn't totally sure who he was at that point. I remember so clearly watching him walk on stage. He was carrying one of Chad Smith's drum sticks (the Chili Peppers had just performed) and laughing at something that Flea said to him as he was walking up to the stage. He had that classic Obama smile that makes you just giggle like a little girl (or a 25 year old one), and he walked up to the podium, took the microphone off the platform and held it in his hand as he walked up to the front of the stage and looked out at the crowd. He was fully present. Everybody...EVERYBODY...was quiet, and looking directly at him. He had that effortless charisma that is so genuine and natural and innate to him, and he just...talked. He talked TO us, rather than AT us. And while, 4 years later, my memory doesn't hold the exact words he used, I remember being fully engaged while he spoke. People in the crowd nodded and furled their eyebrows as if they were thinking "dude....TOTALLY!" I felt like I was sitting in a coffeeshop with him and we were drinking nonfat lattes and splitting a banana bread slice and he was telling me about his thoughts on how the world could be a better place while I sat there and listened intently (while eating slightly more than my half of the banana bread because he was talking instead of eating...I do that sometimes).
I remember calling home and talking to my stepdad (who is passionately FOR anything AGAINST Bush) about Obama. He was well aware of him, and he talked to me about how what our country really needs is for someone like Obama to be our president. We laughed dreamingly about the notion of that, and how far-fetched it seemed at that point.
Tonight, four years later, I called my stepdad, yelling at the top of my lungs with excitement over the recent news of Obama's candiacy for president...and he spoke with just as much passion about his belief that this 46 year old man...this 46 year old black man...who worked his way to where he is through hard, honest, selfless and purely-intentioned WORK (something George W. Bush knows nothing about)...has such immense potential to truly turn this nation around. "What a juxtaposition," my stepdad said...to have the past 8 years of disheartening lies, deceit, war, selfishness and alienation on the part of George W. Bush, followed by the possibility of Barack Obama being not only the first African American president, but more importantly, an overwhelmingly qualified candidate to make some desperately needed changes in perspective and action. Perspective of America in the eyes of the world, and perspective of the government in the eyes of the American people. Action to clear away the cobwebs of the old, obsolete methods of leadership in this country that have held us back from taking steps forward in the areas of civil rights, international relations, health care, education, and the environmental crisis.
And here I am, 7 years since my eligibility as a participating American citizen, and I am finally understanding what it means to have a (potential) leader in whom I have full trust, who I believe is not only fully capable of making this country - and the lives of the people in it - better, but who will actually follow through on his word to do so. I understand what it might be like to have a president whose words fill my mind with possibility and my heart with hope and the motivation to get involved in what can potentially be a massive movement toward a nation that represents progress, forward-thinking, and modern, relevant virtues. I can catch a glimpse of what it's like to be an American and be proud...proud of our leader who inspires us to think and to act from a place of positive growth.
Man...here's hoping.
Barack Obama for President, biotch!
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Hope, Perhaps?
http://automobiles.honda.com/fcx-clarity/?from=fcx.honda.com
Finally, the auto industry is thinking outside the proverbial box and taking a step away from fuel dependence.
ZERO emissions?? A car that releases water vapor rather than exhaust??
Sounds too good to be true....but here's hoping! Go Honda!
(Gobama, too!)
Finally, the auto industry is thinking outside the proverbial box and taking a step away from fuel dependence.
ZERO emissions?? A car that releases water vapor rather than exhaust??
Sounds too good to be true....but here's hoping! Go Honda!
(Gobama, too!)
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
India Gave Me More Than Just Lice and Indigestion
Damn, it is SO easy when living in a place like Los Angeles (not that there are any other such places on Earth) to get sucked into the day-to-day superficiality of this strange, strange, incestuous bubble world we are trudging through. Don't get me wrong...it's plenty fun and plenty stimulating, but I feel extremely fortunate to have people in my life who always manage to snap me back into the REAL "reality" right when I need it the most.
For reasons I have yet to understand, the majority of the truly solid and substantial people who have come into my life the past 2 years have come - whether directly or indirectly - from my time in India.
One such person is a girl named Maggie with whom I worked as a volunteer at a children's home in Rishikesh called Ramana's Garden. She was 19 at the time, and one of 3 of us volunteers who actually lived on the compound with the kids 24/7. I struggled a lot with my feelings of inability to give enough of myself to the kids, but I have never in my entire life seen anybody so perfectly fit in their true calling. Maggie literally ran the place. The woman who owns it was never around, and the teachers and other volunteers (including myself) were just able to commit to constant, round-the-clock service. But Maggie was there...all the time. She did everything. It was mind-boggling and truly humbling because it was so effortless to her and you could tell that she couldn't possibly imagine doing anything else.
Well, it's been a year and a half since I left Ramana's, and Maggie, and since then she has opened up her own Children's Home in Nepal.
www.blinknow.org
She is truly amazing. Check out the website, and keep it in mind for donations or for anyone you know who may be interested in volunteering.
For reasons I have yet to understand, the majority of the truly solid and substantial people who have come into my life the past 2 years have come - whether directly or indirectly - from my time in India.
One such person is a girl named Maggie with whom I worked as a volunteer at a children's home in Rishikesh called Ramana's Garden. She was 19 at the time, and one of 3 of us volunteers who actually lived on the compound with the kids 24/7. I struggled a lot with my feelings of inability to give enough of myself to the kids, but I have never in my entire life seen anybody so perfectly fit in their true calling. Maggie literally ran the place. The woman who owns it was never around, and the teachers and other volunteers (including myself) were just able to commit to constant, round-the-clock service. But Maggie was there...all the time. She did everything. It was mind-boggling and truly humbling because it was so effortless to her and you could tell that she couldn't possibly imagine doing anything else.
Well, it's been a year and a half since I left Ramana's, and Maggie, and since then she has opened up her own Children's Home in Nepal.
www.blinknow.org
She is truly amazing. Check out the website, and keep it in mind for donations or for anyone you know who may be interested in volunteering.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
The Human Footprint
New National Geographic show airing just in time for Earth Day
Check it:
http://channel.nationalgeographic.com/channel/human-footprint/
Check it:
http://channel.nationalgeographic.com/channel/human-footprint/
Monday, March 31, 2008
Body Intelligence
"There are guides
who can show you the way.
Use them.
But they will not satisfy your longing.
Keep wanting the connection with presence
with all your pulsing energy.
The throbbing vein
will take you further
than any thinking.
Muhammed said, Do not theorize
about essence. All speculations
are just more layers of covering.
Human beings love coverings.
They think the designs on the curtains
are what is being concealed.
Observe the wonders as they occur around you.
Do not claim them. Feel the artistry
moving through, and be silent."
-Rumi
who can show you the way.
Use them.
But they will not satisfy your longing.
Keep wanting the connection with presence
with all your pulsing energy.
The throbbing vein
will take you further
than any thinking.
Muhammed said, Do not theorize
about essence. All speculations
are just more layers of covering.
Human beings love coverings.
They think the designs on the curtains
are what is being concealed.
Observe the wonders as they occur around you.
Do not claim them. Feel the artistry
moving through, and be silent."
-Rumi
"All of the true things that I am about to tell you are shameless lies."
Without belittling the steadfast and solid people in my life who have consistently proven to be infallible friends and sources of support, I can honestly say that I am going through a very solitary phase in my life where the majority of my thoughts, feelings, and experiences go unshared. Strangely, it’s taken me this long to really grasp that this phase essentially began when I left Los Angeles and went to India by myself in the summer of 2006.
Prior to that, my life had been painfully stable, routine, safe, and entwined with the amazing people with whom I was lucky enough to be friends. Save the 9 months leading up to my departure (which were filled with non-stop partying and social indulgences), I had been in a 2 year relationship with the only partner with whom I’ve truly ever felt equally vulnerable and safe. My life with him was completely shared, for better or worse, and it was a beautiful time.
But by the time our relationship had (peacefully) ended and I was feeling the pangs of wanderlust and the lightness of no emotional attachments, my life was coming to a steady plateau, and I felt the desperate need for change, adventure, and new challenges. I needed to push myself in ways I had never been pushed before, and to seek out – among other things – my own limitations.
For reasons I doubt I’ll ever be able to explain or understand fully, I was called to go to India. So…I did. Without having any idea what to expect (and relishing in that fact), I put a couple of shirts, a pair of cotton pants, and 10 pounds of medical supplies in a backpack and hopped a plane to Delhi….
(see my posts from 2006 for intricate details)
…India was honestly one of the most challenging times in my life, and very little of it had anything to do with "India." Granted, traveling alone in a third-world country where "comfort" is a laughable fantasy, definitely had its qualms:
You are always dirty. Depending on where you are you are always either hot or cold. During the monsoon season, I was constantly wet, whether from sweat or rain that poured from the sky in a way I’ve never seen in my life. As a Westerner (and a woman), you are treated like a celebrity, but in all the worst ways. Men stare blatantly at you, and children chase you down the street in your rickshaw just to attempt to touch your hand. There are bugs unlike anything you've ever seen, save on the Discovery channel, and all of them bite. All of them. I was consistently covered from head to toe with mosquito bites. I got lice during a 10 day meditation course where I was not allowed to talk or interact with any other human beings. I was stung by a giant scorpion while at the orphanage (which the kids laughed off as if I had stubbed my toe). I got scabies and had to boil all of my clothes in pots (luckily there were 2 lovely women working at the guest house where I was staying who helped me and whom I befriended). I gained 20 pounds from lack of exercise and constant ingestion of foods cooked with ghee and whole-milk, and I felt slightly ill for most of the time I was there. But you know what...just like anything else in life....you adjust.
Aside from the menial day-to-day struggles, there was so much unbelievable and overwhelming beauty to be found on that trip. I met some amazing people along the way, many of whom have stayed in my life, and a few of which I remain closely entangled with (for better or worse). I lived with, cared for, and taught 120 Indian and Nepalese orphans who -to this day- are some of the strongest, most radiant and resilient humans I've ever met. They taught me so much, and left me feeling humbled like I never had before. In fact, the people of India in general are some of the most humbling to encounter. Even in the face of poverty beyond our comprehension, sickness and filth, and the reality that there is nothing else for them, they are some of the happiest, most contented peoples I’ve ever met. I collected some of the most dumbfounding sunsets. I watched the sunset every day for several weeks from atop a mountain in Dharamkot, at the base of the Himalayas. For 10 of those days, I watched it set in silence along side a family of monkeys who seemed to find that moment of every day just as necessary to witness as I did. I stood atop an ancient fort in the middle of the desert and watched the sun set over a sprawling Eastern metropolis. I laid down in the sand dunes and watched the sun set into the vast nothingness of the Rajasthan desert, and then caught an equally radiant "Purnima" (full-moon-rise) that same night while riding a camel through the moonlit desert. I awoke the next morning to see the sun rising from our camp in the desert, and watched it rise while sipping hot chai, beside my camel transport. I climbed a mountain in Pushkar with 4 Israeli friends to watch the sun set over the holy city, alongside a sadhu whose silence was contagious and whose presence made the experience even more profound. I watched the sun sink slowly into a deep red Indian Ocean from the 25th floor of an ashram in the middle of the Keralan backwaters, surrounded by nothing by palm trees and devotees.
But along with all the burdens and all the beauty that spiced my external experiences, the most profound and difficult part of the trip was that I was experiencing it all alone. Granted, I was fortunate to meet and travel with some truly astounding and colorful people, but they, too, were on their own journeys, and we were merely a presence of illusory safety and temporary companionship for one another along the way. Even though we were watching the same scenes unfold around us, we were all affected by them independently. Kind of like regular life…only amplified.
I brought with me the obligatory journal to write down whatever thoughts and experiences my mind could catch as they sped by. I also wrote epic emails home to friends and family to try to paint a picture of my encounters (a very small number of whom probably actually READ them), but these outlets were merely a filter to catch those thoughts and experiences that were actually capable of being put into words. Far more, however, sifted through the cracks and have been mulling about in my mind and my memory ever since. These…are mine alone.
In coming back from India in late winter of ’06, I felt like a child lost in a crowd who caught a glimpse of their parent through the abyss and ran, full-fledged, into their arms. I don’t even remember my flight home. All I remember was walking through customs with my backpack and seeing my dad waiting for me by the baggage claim.
There were no words.
I felt like I had been asleep for months, and was still blind and blurred by the sleep in my mind and my eyes. I remember walking into the kitchen at home and my mom asking (as she notoriously does) “can I get you something to eat?” I glanced around at all of the food…ALL of the food just sitting there in the pantry and cupboards and shelves and fridge…and all I could do was shake my head. I didn’t leave my house for 2 weeks, and I don’t think I unpacked my backpack for at least one. The idea of being responsible for more than what I could carry was a bit overwhelming, despite my usual tendency to not only HAVE a lot of shit, but to have it strewn about carelessly. I did all the things one would expect a person to do after returning from such a trip…I took baths, I ate all my favorite foods, I watched television, I did laundry after wearing a pair of jeans once just because I could. I played my guitar and I blasted all my favorite music on my stereo until I drove my brothers crazy.
But my mind was indisposed. My brothers and my parents loitered around waiting for stories. I gave them tidbits as they arose and if they were relevant, but I still don’t think to this day that I’ve ever sat down and told anyone about my trip in its entirety. There’s just no way. I eventually saw a couple friends as I felt ready to, and they would greet me with the anticipated “So…how was it?”
“It was…a lot of things.”
……………………….
It’s been about 15 months since I returned to Los Angeles. I have yet to say that I’ve fully settled back into any kind of stability or direction. To be completely honest, I have no idea if the reason for that has anything to do with India, as the trip itself was short in the grand scheme of things. At the same time, though, I can honestly say that I experienced more, and at a much more rapid pace, on that trip than I ever have during any substantial chunk of my life. The challenge and the exhilaration in traveling like that is that you are in a constant state of flux. You move from one city to the next, meet new people at every turn, leave others behind, and you never settle. You don’t attach. You keep going. And then you leave.
In a way, I feel like that’s how I have been living my life since I’ve returned. I’ve gone through several jobs, several lovers, and several groups of friends. Only here there is this undercurrent of constancy that is both stabilizing and mind-numbing.
It’s a lonely journey. While I feel I have seen some of the most amazing places, felt the weight of love along the way, and the lightness of sheer freedom, I have experienced all of these things as a traveler does…completely alone.
I’ve met people along the way, some of whom I’ve shared precious moments with, and others with whom I’ve shared a meal and light conversation and perhaps a bed for the night. But those shared moments are fleeting, impermanent.
I do have some shining lights, some solid pillars with whom I can unload my burdens and share my thoughts. But, in a way, it’s a lot like writing home. You can give as many details as your mind can muster. You can use descriptive language and even attach a photo or two if the internet is working. But it’s not the same as being there.
…………………..
The one profound “realization” that I returned with and feel able to articulate is this experiential understanding of…let’s call it “nonduality.” Perhaps it’s a residual affect of my 10 day Vipassana course in India, but I can honestly say that I know it to be true that there is no distinction between good and bad, pain and pleasure, sorrow and joy. They, along with every other experience humans are capable of, are all part of the same, ever-changing experience of human life. They are all equally valid, and equally necessary. It is our human attachment to the pleasure and joy (which we categorize as being “good”) and our aversion to the pain and sorrow (which we categorize as being “bad”) that causes us to suffer. Don’t get me wrong. I still suffer. But at least when I do, I now understand what that suffering really is.
Nothing ever stays the same. And it is only in allowing ourselves to accept this, and align our thoughts and actions with this simple (yet painfully elusive) reality, that we can truly be at peace with any and every experience.
I’m still working on it.
But what has perhaps been the most difficult adjustment for me to make in my re-emersion into Western (and in particular, Los Angeles) culture is that everyone seems to have this inclination to want to create distinctions. People put themselves and others into these categories, as if humans are only capable of embodying one set of standards. In LA, these categories are referred to as scenes, and to be a part of any of them you have to exist within a certain duality where you ARE this, and therefore are NOT that.
It is so counter-intuitive to the way things really are, and yet I struggle with it every day. I find myself thinking “if I do THIS or I wear THIS, then people will think I’m THIS way, but does that mean that I’m not THAT way also?” It drains me beyond belief.
Why can’t people be this AND that at the same time? Why would anyone want to limit themselves to only being one way, when in reality, there are no such things as “this” or “that?” THERE ARE NO DISTINCTIONS! We are all just humans, and as lame as cliché as that sounds, it is the harsh reality of the world. For some reason, it’s one of the most difficult things for people to do…to accept that –while we are, indeed, individuals, each on our own path – we are all going to the same place…whether you want to call it Heaven, Hell, or dirt, we’re all going there, and when you strip away these superficial skins that make us all look so fucking different and special….we’re all the same.
There is no “or.”
I get it though. It's so much easier to put things in safe little boxes where we can believe we understand them and therefore have control over them, and over ourselves. That's what humans are known for, really....what do you think Religion is? Or government? Or art?
………………….
To quote Kurt Vonnegut's reiteration of the self-created Fifty-third Calypso in the Book of Bokononism:
Oh, a sleeping drunkard
Up in Central Park,
And a lion-hunter
In the jungle dark,
And a Chinese dentist,
And a British queen--
All fit together
In the same machine.
Nice, nice, very nice;
Nice, nice, very nice;
Nice, nice, very nice--
So many different people
In the same device.
Prior to that, my life had been painfully stable, routine, safe, and entwined with the amazing people with whom I was lucky enough to be friends. Save the 9 months leading up to my departure (which were filled with non-stop partying and social indulgences), I had been in a 2 year relationship with the only partner with whom I’ve truly ever felt equally vulnerable and safe. My life with him was completely shared, for better or worse, and it was a beautiful time.
But by the time our relationship had (peacefully) ended and I was feeling the pangs of wanderlust and the lightness of no emotional attachments, my life was coming to a steady plateau, and I felt the desperate need for change, adventure, and new challenges. I needed to push myself in ways I had never been pushed before, and to seek out – among other things – my own limitations.
For reasons I doubt I’ll ever be able to explain or understand fully, I was called to go to India. So…I did. Without having any idea what to expect (and relishing in that fact), I put a couple of shirts, a pair of cotton pants, and 10 pounds of medical supplies in a backpack and hopped a plane to Delhi….
(see my posts from 2006 for intricate details)
…India was honestly one of the most challenging times in my life, and very little of it had anything to do with "India." Granted, traveling alone in a third-world country where "comfort" is a laughable fantasy, definitely had its qualms:
You are always dirty. Depending on where you are you are always either hot or cold. During the monsoon season, I was constantly wet, whether from sweat or rain that poured from the sky in a way I’ve never seen in my life. As a Westerner (and a woman), you are treated like a celebrity, but in all the worst ways. Men stare blatantly at you, and children chase you down the street in your rickshaw just to attempt to touch your hand. There are bugs unlike anything you've ever seen, save on the Discovery channel, and all of them bite. All of them. I was consistently covered from head to toe with mosquito bites. I got lice during a 10 day meditation course where I was not allowed to talk or interact with any other human beings. I was stung by a giant scorpion while at the orphanage (which the kids laughed off as if I had stubbed my toe). I got scabies and had to boil all of my clothes in pots (luckily there were 2 lovely women working at the guest house where I was staying who helped me and whom I befriended). I gained 20 pounds from lack of exercise and constant ingestion of foods cooked with ghee and whole-milk, and I felt slightly ill for most of the time I was there. But you know what...just like anything else in life....you adjust.
Aside from the menial day-to-day struggles, there was so much unbelievable and overwhelming beauty to be found on that trip. I met some amazing people along the way, many of whom have stayed in my life, and a few of which I remain closely entangled with (for better or worse). I lived with, cared for, and taught 120 Indian and Nepalese orphans who -to this day- are some of the strongest, most radiant and resilient humans I've ever met. They taught me so much, and left me feeling humbled like I never had before. In fact, the people of India in general are some of the most humbling to encounter. Even in the face of poverty beyond our comprehension, sickness and filth, and the reality that there is nothing else for them, they are some of the happiest, most contented peoples I’ve ever met. I collected some of the most dumbfounding sunsets. I watched the sunset every day for several weeks from atop a mountain in Dharamkot, at the base of the Himalayas. For 10 of those days, I watched it set in silence along side a family of monkeys who seemed to find that moment of every day just as necessary to witness as I did. I stood atop an ancient fort in the middle of the desert and watched the sun set over a sprawling Eastern metropolis. I laid down in the sand dunes and watched the sun set into the vast nothingness of the Rajasthan desert, and then caught an equally radiant "Purnima" (full-moon-rise) that same night while riding a camel through the moonlit desert. I awoke the next morning to see the sun rising from our camp in the desert, and watched it rise while sipping hot chai, beside my camel transport. I climbed a mountain in Pushkar with 4 Israeli friends to watch the sun set over the holy city, alongside a sadhu whose silence was contagious and whose presence made the experience even more profound. I watched the sun sink slowly into a deep red Indian Ocean from the 25th floor of an ashram in the middle of the Keralan backwaters, surrounded by nothing by palm trees and devotees.
But along with all the burdens and all the beauty that spiced my external experiences, the most profound and difficult part of the trip was that I was experiencing it all alone. Granted, I was fortunate to meet and travel with some truly astounding and colorful people, but they, too, were on their own journeys, and we were merely a presence of illusory safety and temporary companionship for one another along the way. Even though we were watching the same scenes unfold around us, we were all affected by them independently. Kind of like regular life…only amplified.
I brought with me the obligatory journal to write down whatever thoughts and experiences my mind could catch as they sped by. I also wrote epic emails home to friends and family to try to paint a picture of my encounters (a very small number of whom probably actually READ them), but these outlets were merely a filter to catch those thoughts and experiences that were actually capable of being put into words. Far more, however, sifted through the cracks and have been mulling about in my mind and my memory ever since. These…are mine alone.
In coming back from India in late winter of ’06, I felt like a child lost in a crowd who caught a glimpse of their parent through the abyss and ran, full-fledged, into their arms. I don’t even remember my flight home. All I remember was walking through customs with my backpack and seeing my dad waiting for me by the baggage claim.
There were no words.
I felt like I had been asleep for months, and was still blind and blurred by the sleep in my mind and my eyes. I remember walking into the kitchen at home and my mom asking (as she notoriously does) “can I get you something to eat?” I glanced around at all of the food…ALL of the food just sitting there in the pantry and cupboards and shelves and fridge…and all I could do was shake my head. I didn’t leave my house for 2 weeks, and I don’t think I unpacked my backpack for at least one. The idea of being responsible for more than what I could carry was a bit overwhelming, despite my usual tendency to not only HAVE a lot of shit, but to have it strewn about carelessly. I did all the things one would expect a person to do after returning from such a trip…I took baths, I ate all my favorite foods, I watched television, I did laundry after wearing a pair of jeans once just because I could. I played my guitar and I blasted all my favorite music on my stereo until I drove my brothers crazy.
But my mind was indisposed. My brothers and my parents loitered around waiting for stories. I gave them tidbits as they arose and if they were relevant, but I still don’t think to this day that I’ve ever sat down and told anyone about my trip in its entirety. There’s just no way. I eventually saw a couple friends as I felt ready to, and they would greet me with the anticipated “So…how was it?”
“It was…a lot of things.”
……………………….
It’s been about 15 months since I returned to Los Angeles. I have yet to say that I’ve fully settled back into any kind of stability or direction. To be completely honest, I have no idea if the reason for that has anything to do with India, as the trip itself was short in the grand scheme of things. At the same time, though, I can honestly say that I experienced more, and at a much more rapid pace, on that trip than I ever have during any substantial chunk of my life. The challenge and the exhilaration in traveling like that is that you are in a constant state of flux. You move from one city to the next, meet new people at every turn, leave others behind, and you never settle. You don’t attach. You keep going. And then you leave.
In a way, I feel like that’s how I have been living my life since I’ve returned. I’ve gone through several jobs, several lovers, and several groups of friends. Only here there is this undercurrent of constancy that is both stabilizing and mind-numbing.
It’s a lonely journey. While I feel I have seen some of the most amazing places, felt the weight of love along the way, and the lightness of sheer freedom, I have experienced all of these things as a traveler does…completely alone.
I’ve met people along the way, some of whom I’ve shared precious moments with, and others with whom I’ve shared a meal and light conversation and perhaps a bed for the night. But those shared moments are fleeting, impermanent.
I do have some shining lights, some solid pillars with whom I can unload my burdens and share my thoughts. But, in a way, it’s a lot like writing home. You can give as many details as your mind can muster. You can use descriptive language and even attach a photo or two if the internet is working. But it’s not the same as being there.
…………………..
The one profound “realization” that I returned with and feel able to articulate is this experiential understanding of…let’s call it “nonduality.” Perhaps it’s a residual affect of my 10 day Vipassana course in India, but I can honestly say that I know it to be true that there is no distinction between good and bad, pain and pleasure, sorrow and joy. They, along with every other experience humans are capable of, are all part of the same, ever-changing experience of human life. They are all equally valid, and equally necessary. It is our human attachment to the pleasure and joy (which we categorize as being “good”) and our aversion to the pain and sorrow (which we categorize as being “bad”) that causes us to suffer. Don’t get me wrong. I still suffer. But at least when I do, I now understand what that suffering really is.
Nothing ever stays the same. And it is only in allowing ourselves to accept this, and align our thoughts and actions with this simple (yet painfully elusive) reality, that we can truly be at peace with any and every experience.
I’m still working on it.
But what has perhaps been the most difficult adjustment for me to make in my re-emersion into Western (and in particular, Los Angeles) culture is that everyone seems to have this inclination to want to create distinctions. People put themselves and others into these categories, as if humans are only capable of embodying one set of standards. In LA, these categories are referred to as scenes, and to be a part of any of them you have to exist within a certain duality where you ARE this, and therefore are NOT that.
It is so counter-intuitive to the way things really are, and yet I struggle with it every day. I find myself thinking “if I do THIS or I wear THIS, then people will think I’m THIS way, but does that mean that I’m not THAT way also?” It drains me beyond belief.
Why can’t people be this AND that at the same time? Why would anyone want to limit themselves to only being one way, when in reality, there are no such things as “this” or “that?” THERE ARE NO DISTINCTIONS! We are all just humans, and as lame as cliché as that sounds, it is the harsh reality of the world. For some reason, it’s one of the most difficult things for people to do…to accept that –while we are, indeed, individuals, each on our own path – we are all going to the same place…whether you want to call it Heaven, Hell, or dirt, we’re all going there, and when you strip away these superficial skins that make us all look so fucking different and special….we’re all the same.
There is no “or.”
I get it though. It's so much easier to put things in safe little boxes where we can believe we understand them and therefore have control over them, and over ourselves. That's what humans are known for, really....what do you think Religion is? Or government? Or art?
………………….
To quote Kurt Vonnegut's reiteration of the self-created Fifty-third Calypso in the Book of Bokononism:
Oh, a sleeping drunkard
Up in Central Park,
And a lion-hunter
In the jungle dark,
And a Chinese dentist,
And a British queen--
All fit together
In the same machine.
Nice, nice, very nice;
Nice, nice, very nice;
Nice, nice, very nice--
So many different people
In the same device.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Help Save Tibet!
We're closing in on our goal of 1 million signatures and the largest global online petition in history - click below to join the global outcry, and then forward this email to friends and family right away:Â
http://www.avaaz.org/en/tibet_end_the_violence/39.php?cl=65923589Â
The global outcry over Tibet is rising fast - In just 5 days, 751,472 of us from 192 countries have come together to call for restraint and dialogue with the Dalai Lama. Even more amazing, we have told over 5 million of our friends about this important campaign - that's 1 million people per day!Â
After decades of repression, the Tibetan people are crying out to the world for change. The spotlight of the upcoming Olympic Games is now on China, and Tibetan Nobel peace prize winner the Dalai Lama is calling to end all riots and violence through restraint and dialogue--he urgently needs the support of the world's people.Â
China's hardliners are lashing out publicly at the Dalai Lama--but we're told that President Hu Jintao may believe dialogue is the best hope for stability in Tibet. China's leadership is right now considering a crucial choice between repression and dialogue that could determine Tibet's--and China's--future.Â
We can affect this historic choice – for President Hu, China's global reputation matters. He needs to hear from us that the 'Made in China' brand and the upcoming Olympics in Beijing will succeed only if he chooses dialogue over the hardliners' repression. An avalanche of global people power is moving to get his attention.
China's economy is dependent on "Made in China" exports that we all buy, and the government is keen to make the Olympics in Beijing this summer a celebration of a new and respected China.China is also a sprawling, diverse country with much brutality in its past, so it has good reasons to be concerned about stability -- some of Tibet's rioters killed innocent people. But President Hu must recognize that the greatest danger to Chinese stability and development today comes from hardliners who advocate escalating repression, not from those Tibetans seeking dialogue and reform.Â
We will deliver our petition directly to Chinese officials in New York, London and Beijing, but it we must reach our goal of 1 million signatures first. Please forward this email to your address book with a note explaining to your friends why this is important, or use our tell-a-friend tool to email your address book--it will come up after you sign.Â
The Tibetan people have suffered quietly for decades. It is finally their moment to speak--we must help them be heard.Â
Sign the Petition!
Thanks!!
http://www.avaaz.org/en/tibet_end_the_violence/39.php?cl=65923589Â
The global outcry over Tibet is rising fast - In just 5 days, 751,472 of us from 192 countries have come together to call for restraint and dialogue with the Dalai Lama. Even more amazing, we have told over 5 million of our friends about this important campaign - that's 1 million people per day!Â
After decades of repression, the Tibetan people are crying out to the world for change. The spotlight of the upcoming Olympic Games is now on China, and Tibetan Nobel peace prize winner the Dalai Lama is calling to end all riots and violence through restraint and dialogue--he urgently needs the support of the world's people.Â
China's hardliners are lashing out publicly at the Dalai Lama--but we're told that President Hu Jintao may believe dialogue is the best hope for stability in Tibet. China's leadership is right now considering a crucial choice between repression and dialogue that could determine Tibet's--and China's--future.Â
We can affect this historic choice – for President Hu, China's global reputation matters. He needs to hear from us that the 'Made in China' brand and the upcoming Olympics in Beijing will succeed only if he chooses dialogue over the hardliners' repression. An avalanche of global people power is moving to get his attention.
China's economy is dependent on "Made in China" exports that we all buy, and the government is keen to make the Olympics in Beijing this summer a celebration of a new and respected China.China is also a sprawling, diverse country with much brutality in its past, so it has good reasons to be concerned about stability -- some of Tibet's rioters killed innocent people. But President Hu must recognize that the greatest danger to Chinese stability and development today comes from hardliners who advocate escalating repression, not from those Tibetans seeking dialogue and reform.Â
We will deliver our petition directly to Chinese officials in New York, London and Beijing, but it we must reach our goal of 1 million signatures first. Please forward this email to your address book with a note explaining to your friends why this is important, or use our tell-a-friend tool to email your address book--it will come up after you sign.Â
The Tibetan people have suffered quietly for decades. It is finally their moment to speak--we must help them be heard.Â
Sign the Petition!
Thanks!!
Monday, March 24, 2008
Cassie is...
Cassie is beginning to think in the third person thanks to far too much exposure to Facebook.
Cassie is perpetually disappointed in men and her own inability to make good judgments with them. (Cassie takes full responsibility for this, and recognizes that there are exceptions when love is involved...you know who you are).
Cassie is excited about her new Holga camera, and is hoping the 5 rolls of film she has shot over the last several days actually turn out.
Cassie is not on a healthy sleeping schedule.
Cassie is ready for some major changes all-around.
Cassie is feeling both smothered and isolated.
Cassie is most definitely ready for college to be over.
Cassie is starting to gain momentum with music writing.
Cassie is broke as a joke. (Cassie is strangely ok with this).
Cassie is happy about her impending tax return!
Cassie is taking it one day at a time.
Cassie is hoping that people reading this blog for the first time don't base their judgements on this particular entry.
Cassie is tired, delirious and going to bed.
Cassie is perpetually disappointed in men and her own inability to make good judgments with them. (Cassie takes full responsibility for this, and recognizes that there are exceptions when love is involved...you know who you are).
Cassie is excited about her new Holga camera, and is hoping the 5 rolls of film she has shot over the last several days actually turn out.
Cassie is not on a healthy sleeping schedule.
Cassie is ready for some major changes all-around.
Cassie is feeling both smothered and isolated.
Cassie is most definitely ready for college to be over.
Cassie is starting to gain momentum with music writing.
Cassie is broke as a joke. (Cassie is strangely ok with this).
Cassie is happy about her impending tax return!
Cassie is taking it one day at a time.
Cassie is hoping that people reading this blog for the first time don't base their judgements on this particular entry.
Cassie is tired, delirious and going to bed.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
One from the archives...
A post from one of my previous blogs - June 2006
I couldn't have said it better, myself...
"Western culture is still relatively uncivilized, focused on the external conquest of other civilizations, violence, war, imperialism, and a rampant need for material possession and self-aggrandizement. Contrary to its inflated self-image, it is NOT the most advanced culture the world has yet seen. Its very developed material technology is, in fact, put to childish uses of violent destruction and thoughtless consumption. Its worst problem is its foundational confusion, which leads those of us under its thrall to feel disconnected from nature. Hence we tend do be not responsible for the consequences of our actions, and distract ourselves from the extreme danger of destroying everything in our path by the irrational promise of either a blissful salvation by an absolutely disconnected omnipotent "God" or else a blissful oblivion.
Hence our babarous culture - I do not call it a "civilization" - poses the ultimate threat to planetary life, to all the human beings of other more ancient and better balanced cultures, all other life forms, and the eco-system itself. We are deploying the five horsemen of our imminent man-made apocolypse; population explosion, epidemic disease, unlivable pollution, resource depletion, and wars of mass destruction. The urgent need, therefore, is for we bearers of this imbalanced, disconnected culture to rediscover our interconnection with the rest of life, our infinite responsibility to ourselves and all other living beings, the extreme negative danger of our continuing on the path of destruction and consumption, and the positive potential for us to find a reliable happiness within our own souls, to conquer our own inner negative habits, and to cultivate our infinite capacity for love and joy."
-Robert A. F. Thurman (The Way of the White Clouds)
In other words: "Pull your heads out of your sheltered, ignorant, American asses and wake up to the reality that (a) WE are responsible for the impending demise of this planet, (b) we don't know shit about truth, justice, freedom, or what's right and wrong, and (c) we should probably do something about it.
*steps off soapbox*
:)
I couldn't have said it better, myself...
"Western culture is still relatively uncivilized, focused on the external conquest of other civilizations, violence, war, imperialism, and a rampant need for material possession and self-aggrandizement. Contrary to its inflated self-image, it is NOT the most advanced culture the world has yet seen. Its very developed material technology is, in fact, put to childish uses of violent destruction and thoughtless consumption. Its worst problem is its foundational confusion, which leads those of us under its thrall to feel disconnected from nature. Hence we tend do be not responsible for the consequences of our actions, and distract ourselves from the extreme danger of destroying everything in our path by the irrational promise of either a blissful salvation by an absolutely disconnected omnipotent "God" or else a blissful oblivion.
Hence our babarous culture - I do not call it a "civilization" - poses the ultimate threat to planetary life, to all the human beings of other more ancient and better balanced cultures, all other life forms, and the eco-system itself. We are deploying the five horsemen of our imminent man-made apocolypse; population explosion, epidemic disease, unlivable pollution, resource depletion, and wars of mass destruction. The urgent need, therefore, is for we bearers of this imbalanced, disconnected culture to rediscover our interconnection with the rest of life, our infinite responsibility to ourselves and all other living beings, the extreme negative danger of our continuing on the path of destruction and consumption, and the positive potential for us to find a reliable happiness within our own souls, to conquer our own inner negative habits, and to cultivate our infinite capacity for love and joy."
-Robert A. F. Thurman (The Way of the White Clouds)
In other words: "Pull your heads out of your sheltered, ignorant, American asses and wake up to the reality that (a) WE are responsible for the impending demise of this planet, (b) we don't know shit about truth, justice, freedom, or what's right and wrong, and (c) we should probably do something about it.
*steps off soapbox*
:)
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Still Dreaming Through the Comedown
"Oh Josephine" - by the Black Crowes
Diamonds hold mirrors
And spoon it holds the stars
It's been a long time baby
Since I've seen the sun rise like this
Make a wish and call it maybe
And give me one more kiss
Oh, I like it like this
I like it like this
Oh Josephine
You're dressed in black
Oh Josephine
Your eyes are blue
And I know now
There's no turning back
Oh Josephine
What will we do?
Still dreaming through the come down
Still filling every page
Come on and touch me baby
Before I turn to rust
No there aint no other
It's not a matter of trust
It's just sometimes love ain't enough
No, love ain't enough
Oh Josephine
You're dressed in black
Oh Josephine
Your eyes are blue
And I know now
There's no turning back
Oh Josephine
What will we do?
For a while I was kneeling in tears and powders
For a spell I was strung out beyond my means
Well I lost that love while climbing down the ladder
Just looking for the song to set me free
No waiting for redemption
No leaving love behind
You've got to know where you wanna be
It gets cold outside
It's too late to play it safe
So let's let it all ride
Let's let it all ride
Diamonds hold mirrors
And spoon it holds the stars
It's been a long time baby
Since I've seen the sun rise like this
Make a wish and call it maybe
And give me one more kiss
Oh, I like it like this
I like it like this
Oh Josephine
You're dressed in black
Oh Josephine
Your eyes are blue
And I know now
There's no turning back
Oh Josephine
What will we do?
Still dreaming through the come down
Still filling every page
Come on and touch me baby
Before I turn to rust
No there aint no other
It's not a matter of trust
It's just sometimes love ain't enough
No, love ain't enough
Oh Josephine
You're dressed in black
Oh Josephine
Your eyes are blue
And I know now
There's no turning back
Oh Josephine
What will we do?
For a while I was kneeling in tears and powders
For a spell I was strung out beyond my means
Well I lost that love while climbing down the ladder
Just looking for the song to set me free
No waiting for redemption
No leaving love behind
You've got to know where you wanna be
It gets cold outside
It's too late to play it safe
So let's let it all ride
Let's let it all ride
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
A Day on the Bay
Some shots from a day of kayaking on the Bay with my brother...reminds me why I come home as often as I do.
Ha!
"No universally accepted definition of 'democracy' exists, especially with regard to the elements in a society which are required for it."
-Wikipedia (Democracy)
-Wikipedia (Democracy)
Black & White?
Ok...so I guess it was bound to happen eventually. For the first time in our Nations brief but potent history we are knee-deep in an election that spotlights a woman and an African American man as our two pillars of hope for some semblance of change. I dont think I'm alone in my belief that our ONLY pillar of hope for real change in the country is Barack Obama. Don't get me wrong, I would love to see a woman in the White House just as much as the next chick, but I firmly believe that Hillary is not our best bet. She is a politician through and through, drenched and dripping with twenty-some-odd years of "experience" that in my mind translates to the jaded corruption that has unfortunately become synonymous with politics. If there were ever a time in America's history to pull ourselves out of the muck and mire of the Fraternity of previous leaders (ie the Bush-Clinton lineage) this is most definitely that moment.
So here we are, teetering on the brink of progress, with a candidate who continues to inspire and spark a small flame of hope that this year's election wont leave us in the tears of defeat that streamed down my face as I watched the final election results of 2004. Literally. Tears.
While the road down every election inevitably yeilds competitive bumps along the way, I have been pleasantly surprised at the humbleness, charisma and confidence with with Barack Obama has addressed the bumps that have come up. And I suppose it was inevitable that the issue of race would rear its ugly, but very real, head during this campaign.
Obama's former minister, Rev. Jeremiah Wright, spoke bluntly and passionately of racial division in America, honing in on the struggles and hinderances that a black man like Obama would face in his candidacy due to active American racism, and striking out against Clinton as a priveledged "rich, white," and precious politician. He made a pungent statement when he said "Hillary Clinton has never been called a 'Nigger.'" Yikes. Furthermore, he claimed that Clinton has a better chance at winning the candidacy than Obama solely because she is white.
Despite his role in Obama's campaign, not to mention his "family-like" ties with the Obama family, Barack Obama cut him from the campaign and humbly addressed the Reverand's comments today in Philadelphia. Rather than turning the "firestorm" (as he called it) into a heated outrage of racial defense, Obama casually but sternly recognized that race is, indeed, an issue...BUT, he quickly pushed through what could have been a major political roadblock and pointed out that the REAL issue to be recognized in Rev. Wright's comments is the potential for such a perspective to further divide our nation, and to magnify an issue that, while relevent in its own right, draws the attention away from other issues that America faces as a WHOLE, such as healthcare, the environmental crisis, the War in Iraq, etc.
I remember back in 7th grade when I was running for Student Council president. I remember talking to my mom about my "platform," and having her feed me advice that, to me, was only relevent to how I could improve school lunches and student body assemblies. She told me "the difference between a good leader and a bad leader is that a good leader will make decisions that are better for the whole, even if it may put them in a disadvantage. A bad leader makes choices that benefit himself alone, ignoring the well-being of the whole."
This, I believe, is one of the supreme qualifications of Barack Obama to turn this country around. We have become so conditioned to a leader who acts only out of his own self-interest (whether it be his relationship to oil in the Middle East, or chasing after the man who hurt his daddy's pride in the Gulf War), and we have pathetically accepted the fact that any decision made by Bush is likely to benefit Bush and hurt America. But Barack Obama has proven thus far to follow a different path, with different motivations that, frighteningly, have become foreign to us as a nation of "we the people:" to actually act out of the best interest for the whole, rather than the individual. Rather than dwell on the issue of race, which he could potentially use as a pity card or a platform from which to spring bouts of civil rights preachings, he has respectfully addressed that racism (of any kind) is nothing but a dividing force that will widen the already increasing gap among the American people, and points us toward the horizon of actively addressing pressing issues that will influence us as a nation of individuals, united.
To check out the video footage of his speech, click here:
http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/03/18/obama.speech/index.html#cnnSTCVideo
So here we are, teetering on the brink of progress, with a candidate who continues to inspire and spark a small flame of hope that this year's election wont leave us in the tears of defeat that streamed down my face as I watched the final election results of 2004. Literally. Tears.
While the road down every election inevitably yeilds competitive bumps along the way, I have been pleasantly surprised at the humbleness, charisma and confidence with with Barack Obama has addressed the bumps that have come up. And I suppose it was inevitable that the issue of race would rear its ugly, but very real, head during this campaign.
Obama's former minister, Rev. Jeremiah Wright, spoke bluntly and passionately of racial division in America, honing in on the struggles and hinderances that a black man like Obama would face in his candidacy due to active American racism, and striking out against Clinton as a priveledged "rich, white," and precious politician. He made a pungent statement when he said "Hillary Clinton has never been called a 'Nigger.'" Yikes. Furthermore, he claimed that Clinton has a better chance at winning the candidacy than Obama solely because she is white.
Despite his role in Obama's campaign, not to mention his "family-like" ties with the Obama family, Barack Obama cut him from the campaign and humbly addressed the Reverand's comments today in Philadelphia. Rather than turning the "firestorm" (as he called it) into a heated outrage of racial defense, Obama casually but sternly recognized that race is, indeed, an issue...BUT, he quickly pushed through what could have been a major political roadblock and pointed out that the REAL issue to be recognized in Rev. Wright's comments is the potential for such a perspective to further divide our nation, and to magnify an issue that, while relevent in its own right, draws the attention away from other issues that America faces as a WHOLE, such as healthcare, the environmental crisis, the War in Iraq, etc.
I remember back in 7th grade when I was running for Student Council president. I remember talking to my mom about my "platform," and having her feed me advice that, to me, was only relevent to how I could improve school lunches and student body assemblies. She told me "the difference between a good leader and a bad leader is that a good leader will make decisions that are better for the whole, even if it may put them in a disadvantage. A bad leader makes choices that benefit himself alone, ignoring the well-being of the whole."
This, I believe, is one of the supreme qualifications of Barack Obama to turn this country around. We have become so conditioned to a leader who acts only out of his own self-interest (whether it be his relationship to oil in the Middle East, or chasing after the man who hurt his daddy's pride in the Gulf War), and we have pathetically accepted the fact that any decision made by Bush is likely to benefit Bush and hurt America. But Barack Obama has proven thus far to follow a different path, with different motivations that, frighteningly, have become foreign to us as a nation of "we the people:" to actually act out of the best interest for the whole, rather than the individual. Rather than dwell on the issue of race, which he could potentially use as a pity card or a platform from which to spring bouts of civil rights preachings, he has respectfully addressed that racism (of any kind) is nothing but a dividing force that will widen the already increasing gap among the American people, and points us toward the horizon of actively addressing pressing issues that will influence us as a nation of individuals, united.
To check out the video footage of his speech, click here:
http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/03/18/obama.speech/index.html#cnnSTCVideo
Packin' it all up...
I've packed it all up and climbed back into my head.
I'm back in that place where no one knows what goes on in my head. This is in part because no one asks, and in part because I dont offer it up. I'm home, surrounded by family and friends who care, who ask, who poke and prod, and who draw me out into the world for brief periods of discussions, but all I can think about is how I want nothing more than to be locked away in my room and left to my own devices.
I'm incapable of giving much to anyone right now...even if a part of me wants to. It's a lonely but strangely indugent feeling, accompanied by a pang of sadness that I know all too well. I have so much stirring about, that the only instinct I have is to produce something...create something...to regergitate everything mulling around inside. It's not just a desire, but an intrinsic need. Like eating when hungry, drinking when thirsty, and sleeping when tired.
I feel like no one really knows me. Part of that tortures me, while I relish in it at the same time.
Crazy?
I'm back in that place where no one knows what goes on in my head. This is in part because no one asks, and in part because I dont offer it up. I'm home, surrounded by family and friends who care, who ask, who poke and prod, and who draw me out into the world for brief periods of discussions, but all I can think about is how I want nothing more than to be locked away in my room and left to my own devices.
I'm incapable of giving much to anyone right now...even if a part of me wants to. It's a lonely but strangely indugent feeling, accompanied by a pang of sadness that I know all too well. I have so much stirring about, that the only instinct I have is to produce something...create something...to regergitate everything mulling around inside. It's not just a desire, but an intrinsic need. Like eating when hungry, drinking when thirsty, and sleeping when tired.
I feel like no one really knows me. Part of that tortures me, while I relish in it at the same time.
Crazy?
Monday, March 17, 2008
Reality Check
...all of those seemingly glorified ideals aside, I believe that there is just as much "truth" in the fumbling about of everyday human experience. In fact, most of the human experience...or at least my own...is rooted in perpetual fumbling. One could even argue that those who lock themselves up in a box with their values, opinions and ideals set in stone, and who avoid "mistakes" at all costs and refuse to experience anything that might pierce their safety bubble are actually farther away from "truth" than those who choose to experience any and everything and write off painful experiences as "learning opportunities."
I'm starting to feel a bit lost in the alley of these two towering lifestyles. I've always considered myself to be the latter, but I'm starting to realize that my pre and post-adolescent lifestyle of experimentation, indulgence, and melancholic exploration has now turned me into a somewhat numb, overly-cautious and...dare I say...cynical person. I think I may have gone about things backwards...
Perhaps the pains of my early childhood led me to seek these heightened experiences of drugs, angry and rebellious actings-out, toxic/abusive relationships, and everything that seemed to come as a result of all-of-the-above at an earlier age than most. I vaguely remember a momentary lapse of what seemed to be clarity at age 16 while dancing at a giant warehouse in the middle of Downtown Oakland (Home Base, for you Bay Area kids) at 3am, surrounded by 30,000 people who were on just as many (if not far more) hits of X as I was, while making out and profusely rubbing (in that way that people do while rolling on X) a guy who would shortly thereafter get me pregnant....I remember thinking ever so briefly: "this is not going to make anything in my life better."
Needless to say, countless weekends of dropping pills with various concoctions of chemicals and hallucinogens, sleeping with a douchebag guy who I never even liked to begin with, and dancing to trance music didn't really get me anywhere other than depressed, cracked out, freakishly skinny, knocked up and an "F" in Algebra. But who's to say that having that experience...or more importantly, coming through it alive and intact...didn't contribute to my overall awareness of my own truth?
In fact, having various experiences such as this one (and those that caused me to indulge in such a way) are what have led me to dig deeper, to pull myself out of the proverbial hole I have dug, and come out on top all the wiser...if not moreso. I pride myself on the things I've experienced...those that were painful and destructive just as much as those that were healing and constructive. That is the basis for my "spirituality" I guess...seeing all of the things we experience as being one in the same...part of the same journey and equally valid.
I have to say, though, that the past year or two have been quite isolating for me because of where I stand in my process right now. The crazy thing about life is that we really do go through it alone. Most of us are lucky enough to have solid people join us at various points along the way, but for those of us to choose to venture off on our own at any point will inevitably face the reality that -eventually- the people who are in our lives (even those who are particularly close to us) will never really know us in our entirety. If we leave home, then we are fated to love and share our lives with people who didn't know us when...
It's a strange feeling.
I am an only child, so growing up I didn't have siblings to commiserate with or lean on or learn from. I consider it a gift in many ways because I feel that my forced independence has taught me to depend on myself to get through whatever life feeds me. But the people who have come into my life in the past couple of years have gotten to know a very fragmented version of me...and it can feel a bit isolating. I often feel very misunderstood.
This notion struck me suddenly several days ago when a guy who I was fortunate enough to have in my bed and in my company every so briefly, told me that he had seen me as being very innocent. Maybe some girls would smirk and swoon and feel a sense of contentment at hearing this, but it made me feel slighted, insulted, and so very alone. Needless to say, the guy wouldn't have anything on which to base his knowledge of my past, but it made me feel like I needed to justify my life experiences with a long-winded run down of the past 25 years.
I didnt subject him to it, but it left me feeling a bit hollow.
It's strange to have come out of so many years of pain and destruction...gone through an intense process of working through it all...found some peace of mind....and then be seen as being innocent, as if I had never experienced all of the things that led me to become more "together," more "mature," and more cautious.
But who do you choose to explain yourself to? Who do you choose to tell your story to so that they may better understand and appreciate you as a complete person and not just someone who has only been alive for the short period of time during which they've been in your world?
...the ones who ask, i guess.
I'm starting to feel a bit lost in the alley of these two towering lifestyles. I've always considered myself to be the latter, but I'm starting to realize that my pre and post-adolescent lifestyle of experimentation, indulgence, and melancholic exploration has now turned me into a somewhat numb, overly-cautious and...dare I say...cynical person. I think I may have gone about things backwards...
Perhaps the pains of my early childhood led me to seek these heightened experiences of drugs, angry and rebellious actings-out, toxic/abusive relationships, and everything that seemed to come as a result of all-of-the-above at an earlier age than most. I vaguely remember a momentary lapse of what seemed to be clarity at age 16 while dancing at a giant warehouse in the middle of Downtown Oakland (Home Base, for you Bay Area kids) at 3am, surrounded by 30,000 people who were on just as many (if not far more) hits of X as I was, while making out and profusely rubbing (in that way that people do while rolling on X) a guy who would shortly thereafter get me pregnant....I remember thinking ever so briefly: "this is not going to make anything in my life better."
Needless to say, countless weekends of dropping pills with various concoctions of chemicals and hallucinogens, sleeping with a douchebag guy who I never even liked to begin with, and dancing to trance music didn't really get me anywhere other than depressed, cracked out, freakishly skinny, knocked up and an "F" in Algebra. But who's to say that having that experience...or more importantly, coming through it alive and intact...didn't contribute to my overall awareness of my own truth?
In fact, having various experiences such as this one (and those that caused me to indulge in such a way) are what have led me to dig deeper, to pull myself out of the proverbial hole I have dug, and come out on top all the wiser...if not moreso. I pride myself on the things I've experienced...those that were painful and destructive just as much as those that were healing and constructive. That is the basis for my "spirituality" I guess...seeing all of the things we experience as being one in the same...part of the same journey and equally valid.
I have to say, though, that the past year or two have been quite isolating for me because of where I stand in my process right now. The crazy thing about life is that we really do go through it alone. Most of us are lucky enough to have solid people join us at various points along the way, but for those of us to choose to venture off on our own at any point will inevitably face the reality that -eventually- the people who are in our lives (even those who are particularly close to us) will never really know us in our entirety. If we leave home, then we are fated to love and share our lives with people who didn't know us when...
It's a strange feeling.
I am an only child, so growing up I didn't have siblings to commiserate with or lean on or learn from. I consider it a gift in many ways because I feel that my forced independence has taught me to depend on myself to get through whatever life feeds me. But the people who have come into my life in the past couple of years have gotten to know a very fragmented version of me...and it can feel a bit isolating. I often feel very misunderstood.
This notion struck me suddenly several days ago when a guy who I was fortunate enough to have in my bed and in my company every so briefly, told me that he had seen me as being very innocent. Maybe some girls would smirk and swoon and feel a sense of contentment at hearing this, but it made me feel slighted, insulted, and so very alone. Needless to say, the guy wouldn't have anything on which to base his knowledge of my past, but it made me feel like I needed to justify my life experiences with a long-winded run down of the past 25 years.
I didnt subject him to it, but it left me feeling a bit hollow.
It's strange to have come out of so many years of pain and destruction...gone through an intense process of working through it all...found some peace of mind....and then be seen as being innocent, as if I had never experienced all of the things that led me to become more "together," more "mature," and more cautious.
But who do you choose to explain yourself to? Who do you choose to tell your story to so that they may better understand and appreciate you as a complete person and not just someone who has only been alive for the short period of time during which they've been in your world?
...the ones who ask, i guess.
Getting Down to Business
I suppose I should begin this by identifying myself as a person of faith.
It makes me cringe a bit to think of the immediate reaction that phrase will evoke in many people reading this (if anyone even is). Despite the common conclusion to which most people would jump when hearing a person define themselves as such, this does not mean that I am devoutly religious by any means. In fact, I find religion to be a rudimentary, human manifestation of a bigger spiritual picture. One aspect of humanity that I find to be quite frustrating is our tendency to want to place everything and everyone neatly in respective categories based on shared qualities or interests. Don't get me wrong, I'm guilty of it myself, but it is a habit I'm trying to shed as I find it quite limiting. We do it to one another, and we do it to ourselves. I find it to be particularly relevent living in a sprawling metropolis such as Los Angeles, where people seem to come, claiming to be seeking recognition as unique and distictive, but usually end up falling into a particular mold of one of the many "scenes" as a result of relentlessly trying to uphold a desired image. I'm still not sure who it is everyone is trying to impress or prove themselves to....
I suppose I see religion in the same light. I'm not one to judge or undermine the validity of any one religion (just as I'm in no position to judge any one social "scene"). Each one, in the purest form, is equally valid in principle and purpose...a means to reach a desired "end," and to understand more deeply the essence of something bigger than ourselves. But just as - in the context of social scenes - the underlying common thread is that of shared human existence, so - in the context of religions - is there an underlying common thread of spiritual existence.
As someone...undoubtedly wise in their own right...once said to define this idea in a nutshell: "Many paths, one way." Each of us is on our own journey. It is MY belief that this journey is spiritual in essence, but experienced through our unique and collective human existence. To quote yet another anonymous sage: "We are not human beings having a spiritual experience, we are spiritual beings having a human experience." I believe our permanent, essential existence is spiritual...that we are all essentially spiritual beings, and that our human existence is temporary, impermanent, and ever-changing based on our experiences. I believe we are all entitled - furthermore, obligated - to make our own choices to define how we choose to venture on our journey as human beings. We define ourselves by the choices we make, every minute of every day. But, ultimately, it is my belief that we're all heading in the same direction...to the same ultimate goal...and it is this goal that I like to undeservingly drag down into the human vernacular by giving it the limiting name of "Truth."
It is this "Truth" that I hope to discuss, fumble around with, disect, shred, question and challenge. Ideally, I'd like for this to be a dialogue with anyone interested in chasing tails with me. I welcome criticism, questions, rebuttles, anger, agreement, disagreement....the only thing I wish to be free of in this forum is judgement. There is no room for it here. I believe it is possible, and VITAL, to discuss among ourselves, as human beings - all entitled to our own opinions, our own wisdom based on our own experiences, our own beliefs, and our own truths - within a space that holds ALL of this and is free from judgement. So this is what I am attempting to create.
It makes me cringe a bit to think of the immediate reaction that phrase will evoke in many people reading this (if anyone even is). Despite the common conclusion to which most people would jump when hearing a person define themselves as such, this does not mean that I am devoutly religious by any means. In fact, I find religion to be a rudimentary, human manifestation of a bigger spiritual picture. One aspect of humanity that I find to be quite frustrating is our tendency to want to place everything and everyone neatly in respective categories based on shared qualities or interests. Don't get me wrong, I'm guilty of it myself, but it is a habit I'm trying to shed as I find it quite limiting. We do it to one another, and we do it to ourselves. I find it to be particularly relevent living in a sprawling metropolis such as Los Angeles, where people seem to come, claiming to be seeking recognition as unique and distictive, but usually end up falling into a particular mold of one of the many "scenes" as a result of relentlessly trying to uphold a desired image. I'm still not sure who it is everyone is trying to impress or prove themselves to....
I suppose I see religion in the same light. I'm not one to judge or undermine the validity of any one religion (just as I'm in no position to judge any one social "scene"). Each one, in the purest form, is equally valid in principle and purpose...a means to reach a desired "end," and to understand more deeply the essence of something bigger than ourselves. But just as - in the context of social scenes - the underlying common thread is that of shared human existence, so - in the context of religions - is there an underlying common thread of spiritual existence.
As someone...undoubtedly wise in their own right...once said to define this idea in a nutshell: "Many paths, one way." Each of us is on our own journey. It is MY belief that this journey is spiritual in essence, but experienced through our unique and collective human existence. To quote yet another anonymous sage: "We are not human beings having a spiritual experience, we are spiritual beings having a human experience." I believe our permanent, essential existence is spiritual...that we are all essentially spiritual beings, and that our human existence is temporary, impermanent, and ever-changing based on our experiences. I believe we are all entitled - furthermore, obligated - to make our own choices to define how we choose to venture on our journey as human beings. We define ourselves by the choices we make, every minute of every day. But, ultimately, it is my belief that we're all heading in the same direction...to the same ultimate goal...and it is this goal that I like to undeservingly drag down into the human vernacular by giving it the limiting name of "Truth."
It is this "Truth" that I hope to discuss, fumble around with, disect, shred, question and challenge. Ideally, I'd like for this to be a dialogue with anyone interested in chasing tails with me. I welcome criticism, questions, rebuttles, anger, agreement, disagreement....the only thing I wish to be free of in this forum is judgement. There is no room for it here. I believe it is possible, and VITAL, to discuss among ourselves, as human beings - all entitled to our own opinions, our own wisdom based on our own experiences, our own beliefs, and our own truths - within a space that holds ALL of this and is free from judgement. So this is what I am attempting to create.
Preface
Let me first preface this by surrendering to the possibility that I have absolutely no idea what I’m saying. In fact, that is more or less my motivation in starting this blog.
I suppose it could be said that I am one who seeks. While the object of my seeking has proven to be fluid and ever-changing, I could humbly attempt to narrow down that object to Truth. I suppose, actually, that to deem Truth an “object” is to wander blindly in a misplaced vernacular, because truth…like all those other things we, as humans, seem to go chasing after (love, power, beauty, etc)…is beyond any tangible description or realm. It is elusive and undefinable…and to seek it is much like trying to catch the wind.
But, alas, one of the wonderfully humorous naiveté’s of being human is our constant attempt to chase things we cannot see, and to understand things just slightly beyond our reach.
I suppose it could be said that I am one who seeks. While the object of my seeking has proven to be fluid and ever-changing, I could humbly attempt to narrow down that object to Truth. I suppose, actually, that to deem Truth an “object” is to wander blindly in a misplaced vernacular, because truth…like all those other things we, as humans, seem to go chasing after (love, power, beauty, etc)…is beyond any tangible description or realm. It is elusive and undefinable…and to seek it is much like trying to catch the wind.
But, alas, one of the wonderfully humorous naiveté’s of being human is our constant attempt to chase things we cannot see, and to understand things just slightly beyond our reach.
I Call A Do-Over...Again
I am impeccably skilled at starting new projects...however I seem to have misplaced my ability to finish any of them.
I have started about 5 blogs over the course of the past 5 years or so, and rather than continuing to contribute to one of them, I keep starting new ones in an attempt to "wipe the slate clean," or what have you.
So...by gathering bits and peices of previous posts from previous blogs (the ones I've actually been able to track down), this is either my final attempt to start over and actually maintain a blog.......or, it's just another great idea gone wrong.
We'll see...
I have started about 5 blogs over the course of the past 5 years or so, and rather than continuing to contribute to one of them, I keep starting new ones in an attempt to "wipe the slate clean," or what have you.
So...by gathering bits and peices of previous posts from previous blogs (the ones I've actually been able to track down), this is either my final attempt to start over and actually maintain a blog.......or, it's just another great idea gone wrong.
We'll see...
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