here's a quote i stole from kendall's facebook profile:
"continue to doubt, because there is much more power in doubt than in belief. when you believe, you stop seeking the truth. truth is what works, and you'll find out what works through direct experience. then it is no longer a belief, but a reality." --dick sutphen
in zen there are three necessary qualities: great devotion, great faith... and great doubt. some might consider it odd that great faith AND great doubt are both necessary. but they are. the great doubt led gautama buddha to the realization of the first truth (existence is suffering). the great faith is what affirms the buddhist faith as a path to salvation (the fourth noble truth: that there is a path to the cessation of suffering)...
in fact, the process of meditation can be seen as a rarefication or purification (although it would never be couched in those terms) of the mind through faith IN THE PROCESS of zazen, and through radical, unrelenting doubt in the mind-forms that "claim reality."
Saturday, August 30, 2008
etymology of "nostalgia"
nostalgia
1770, "severe homesickness" (considered as a disease), Mod.L. (cf. Fr. nostalgie, 1802), coined 1668 by Johannes Hofer as a rendering of Ger. heimweh, from Gk. nostos "homecoming" + algos "pain, grief, distress." Transferred sense (the main modern one) of "wistful yearning for the past" first recorded 1920.
1770, "severe homesickness" (considered as a disease), Mod.L. (cf. Fr. nostalgie, 1802), coined 1668 by Johannes Hofer as a rendering of Ger. heimweh, from Gk. nostos "homecoming" + algos "pain, grief, distress." Transferred sense (the main modern one) of "wistful yearning for the past" first recorded 1920.
swift disintegration: mushrooms
in our yard, near the first podicarpus tree that grows, spiraling artifically around a bamboo stake, near the roots of that tree, one day there appeared a white lump. and then, five days later, that lump became ten large blooming mushrooms. by the sixth day, the umbrellae (plural?) of the mushrooms were opening upwards, fully exposing the fluting spores on the undersides. the pressure of the expansion out and up had torn the "heads" of the mushrooms; jagged gaps.
it was a spectacle for the kids. we didn't touch them for fear that we would damage their quick progression to their ends. i seriously entertained thoughts of sneaking out one night and using food coloring to turn them into super mario mushrooms or something. a surprise for willow and aiden in the morning. but the weather's been crappy for such an enterprise (but perhaps perfect for the mushrooms): very rainy.
where do mushrooms come from, anyway? sure, from spores. but where do the spores come from? were they latent in the soil, and just waiting for the right conditions? a generous soaking? or did they somehow alight from a distance, perhaps even from outer space (yeah, i know, cooky science fiction bs: body snatcher paranoia). maybe martian spores floated across the distance of space after having been ejected a millenia ago; and only now they had infected a cloud, and from there, infected my front yard...
they grow so fast. at odd moments, when i stare at them, i can almost see them expanding. so these were what mushroom clouds got their names from, these rising, spreading things...
... i'm feeling fungal nowadays... we connote "fungus" with decay, appropriately so. but although we usually think of decay as some slow process, our front yard mushrooms demonstrate that "fungus" is anything but slow. like a mushroom cloud. boom flash gone.
the suddenness of my appreciation of the dreariness of my life (not that it is dreary, but somehow my taste buds go bland, my eyes feel like they've got condensation and sleep sand in them)... it is like these mushroom clouds blooming in my yard... near dozen of them all waiting to pop their quick disintegrating destruction within my soul...
god, give me inspiration, integration, something to save me from the fallout...
it was a spectacle for the kids. we didn't touch them for fear that we would damage their quick progression to their ends. i seriously entertained thoughts of sneaking out one night and using food coloring to turn them into super mario mushrooms or something. a surprise for willow and aiden in the morning. but the weather's been crappy for such an enterprise (but perhaps perfect for the mushrooms): very rainy.
where do mushrooms come from, anyway? sure, from spores. but where do the spores come from? were they latent in the soil, and just waiting for the right conditions? a generous soaking? or did they somehow alight from a distance, perhaps even from outer space (yeah, i know, cooky science fiction bs: body snatcher paranoia). maybe martian spores floated across the distance of space after having been ejected a millenia ago; and only now they had infected a cloud, and from there, infected my front yard...
they grow so fast. at odd moments, when i stare at them, i can almost see them expanding. so these were what mushroom clouds got their names from, these rising, spreading things...
... i'm feeling fungal nowadays... we connote "fungus" with decay, appropriately so. but although we usually think of decay as some slow process, our front yard mushrooms demonstrate that "fungus" is anything but slow. like a mushroom cloud. boom flash gone.
the suddenness of my appreciation of the dreariness of my life (not that it is dreary, but somehow my taste buds go bland, my eyes feel like they've got condensation and sleep sand in them)... it is like these mushroom clouds blooming in my yard... near dozen of them all waiting to pop their quick disintegrating destruction within my soul...
god, give me inspiration, integration, something to save me from the fallout...
dream
last night i dreamed that she filled the stockings like a christmas surprise. and, naughty though i may have been, i got to empty them and play with the contents until i was bored and exhausted, mostly the former...
then, she walked away from me at a party, wearing those same stockings. something i had said, or done, or neglected to say or do... one never knows with dream women. and the crowds kept interceding like clouds, drenching me in irrelevant conversations, pulling me away from her trail. the stairs, the bedroom door, an open window, gone. she was...
then, she walked away from me at a party, wearing those same stockings. something i had said, or done, or neglected to say or do... one never knows with dream women. and the crowds kept interceding like clouds, drenching me in irrelevant conversations, pulling me away from her trail. the stairs, the bedroom door, an open window, gone. she was...
Friday, August 29, 2008
strangers bearing gifts
walk with me a while
long enough to rattle out
a dagger or two from within
the ready sleeve
the one with the embroidered
heart.
talk to me of the miles
you walked alone
and how it was that we
strayed, and met again.
pretend for awkward moments
the time and distance was sewn up
with a stitch.
wonderful stranger
i recognized you from afar
but up close i see
the footsteps of crows
beside your eyes
and the ready trenches
that fold your grin.
are they fault lines
ready to betray calamity?
i will leave you tonight
hopefully a survivor
nostalgic and forgetful,
having buried again
something long ago dead
once upon a time.
long enough to rattle out
a dagger or two from within
the ready sleeve
the one with the embroidered
heart.
talk to me of the miles
you walked alone
and how it was that we
strayed, and met again.
pretend for awkward moments
the time and distance was sewn up
with a stitch.
wonderful stranger
i recognized you from afar
but up close i see
the footsteps of crows
beside your eyes
and the ready trenches
that fold your grin.
are they fault lines
ready to betray calamity?
i will leave you tonight
hopefully a survivor
nostalgic and forgetful,
having buried again
something long ago dead
once upon a time.
or gone...
all my friends, the place i call home
they are all either here
or gone.
this morning, my friend kendall, perhaps my oldest friend, whom i only recently got in touch with (via facebook) will be leaving hawaii (perhaps, and perhaps hopefully [for him] for good) to live in oregon (so sorry for the above pun).
i had dinner with kendall, his roommate josh, kendall's mother, and her husband last night. i met them at longhi's, then we went over to ryan's at ward. it was nice, it felt very comfortable... discussions on parenting, bodywork (both josh and ruth's husband are massage therapists)...
at one point, the question came up: why, after all these years, were we still friends? it was an interesting question, one which i have considered, not only with regards to kendall, but with all of my "friends." while it may not be universally true, i think that most of my friends have been somewhat outsiders. i dare say that none of them were in the "in crowd." (i may be wrong; apparently, a few friends have "friends" in the multiple hundreds) perhaps that in itself is a similarity that binds us. in chemistry, non-polar molecules may not exactly "want" to bind together, but they do when placed in polar solutions (like water). it's because they have more in common with each other than with the molecules in their environment...
at many times in my life (and occasionally even now), i felt resentment towards those who were "too comfortable" with fitting in, who had it so easy. of course, i realize now that it is never easy, and the hypocrisies and contradictions actually strike us all (although it may be hidden, unconscious). and, of course, i am a parent, and it is my natural desire to want my child to have it "comfortable" and "easy." no parent intentionally wants to raise a social misfit or outcast... but yes, i felt resentment (quiet, at times seething) towards the "in crowd." perhaps not as people, but because of their "Venn Diagram" strategies, the way they would draw clear lines around people, grouping them, singling them out, and (all sympathy or empathy ignored) insulting them. EVERYONE is a loser in some respect. but there are those who "externalize," and feel no contradiction in patiently pointing out the faults of those around them... hell, forget "faults," they just outright put people down...
being an outcast gives you the "privileged" position of understanding how hurtful and hypocritical such "strategies" are. on the plus side, being an outcast also somewhat frees you from the mass hypnosis of the general cultural milieu...
reminds me of a thought i had:
"the lesson of the game is not necessarily to teach you how to win; it is to teach you that it is a game. it is all just a game."
i suppose this thought summarizes some of my understanding of "society." it is, ultimately, just a game. that's not to say that it isn't "necessary." but taking it seriously (the way a lot of people are SO status conscious, etc.) is like watching a kid (i've seen adults do this too) smash and scatter a chess board because he is losing. "it's just a game."
zen parlance speaks of absolute understanding (the true nature of reality, which is emptiness), and the relative understanding (the conventions of the world). it is never that one supplants the other. this is especially so pedagogically; if a person is so-called "enlightened," then how is he going to communicate this understanding EXCEPT by accepting the relative conventions of those he attempts to reach? jesus used parables, in part because, well, how else was he going to reach the minds/hearts/souls of fallen mortal men? the truth is inexpressible. so we "write fictions" to point to it...
yeah, i'm rambling, drifting off on tangents... but to get back to kendall. and friends. i've had, i realize, so few friends in my life. i've never sought people out to be my friends. even at my most desperate, i usually just disintegrated in my own "aloneness" rather than search for people (a paradox, you've probably experienced this... when you are most desperate and alone, that is precisely when no one would want to be around you anyway... at least the majority of fair-weather friends suddenly don't even know you... so.). it was always a mystery how and why people would consider me a friend. but at my point in life, i'm realizing how important some of them were. i only touch a few lives... i must reach back to them, to understand myself, and perhaps, to help them understand themselves.
"are you my friend?"
...well, best wishes to kendall in oregon. i'm thankful i got the brief opportunity to speak to him in person before he disappeared into the distance once again.
friendship is either here
or gone...
they are all either here
or gone.
this morning, my friend kendall, perhaps my oldest friend, whom i only recently got in touch with (via facebook) will be leaving hawaii (perhaps, and perhaps hopefully [for him] for good) to live in oregon (so sorry for the above pun).
i had dinner with kendall, his roommate josh, kendall's mother, and her husband last night. i met them at longhi's, then we went over to ryan's at ward. it was nice, it felt very comfortable... discussions on parenting, bodywork (both josh and ruth's husband are massage therapists)...
at one point, the question came up: why, after all these years, were we still friends? it was an interesting question, one which i have considered, not only with regards to kendall, but with all of my "friends." while it may not be universally true, i think that most of my friends have been somewhat outsiders. i dare say that none of them were in the "in crowd." (i may be wrong; apparently, a few friends have "friends" in the multiple hundreds) perhaps that in itself is a similarity that binds us. in chemistry, non-polar molecules may not exactly "want" to bind together, but they do when placed in polar solutions (like water). it's because they have more in common with each other than with the molecules in their environment...
at many times in my life (and occasionally even now), i felt resentment towards those who were "too comfortable" with fitting in, who had it so easy. of course, i realize now that it is never easy, and the hypocrisies and contradictions actually strike us all (although it may be hidden, unconscious). and, of course, i am a parent, and it is my natural desire to want my child to have it "comfortable" and "easy." no parent intentionally wants to raise a social misfit or outcast... but yes, i felt resentment (quiet, at times seething) towards the "in crowd." perhaps not as people, but because of their "Venn Diagram" strategies, the way they would draw clear lines around people, grouping them, singling them out, and (all sympathy or empathy ignored) insulting them. EVERYONE is a loser in some respect. but there are those who "externalize," and feel no contradiction in patiently pointing out the faults of those around them... hell, forget "faults," they just outright put people down...
being an outcast gives you the "privileged" position of understanding how hurtful and hypocritical such "strategies" are. on the plus side, being an outcast also somewhat frees you from the mass hypnosis of the general cultural milieu...
reminds me of a thought i had:
"the lesson of the game is not necessarily to teach you how to win; it is to teach you that it is a game. it is all just a game."
i suppose this thought summarizes some of my understanding of "society." it is, ultimately, just a game. that's not to say that it isn't "necessary." but taking it seriously (the way a lot of people are SO status conscious, etc.) is like watching a kid (i've seen adults do this too) smash and scatter a chess board because he is losing. "it's just a game."
zen parlance speaks of absolute understanding (the true nature of reality, which is emptiness), and the relative understanding (the conventions of the world). it is never that one supplants the other. this is especially so pedagogically; if a person is so-called "enlightened," then how is he going to communicate this understanding EXCEPT by accepting the relative conventions of those he attempts to reach? jesus used parables, in part because, well, how else was he going to reach the minds/hearts/souls of fallen mortal men? the truth is inexpressible. so we "write fictions" to point to it...
yeah, i'm rambling, drifting off on tangents... but to get back to kendall. and friends. i've had, i realize, so few friends in my life. i've never sought people out to be my friends. even at my most desperate, i usually just disintegrated in my own "aloneness" rather than search for people (a paradox, you've probably experienced this... when you are most desperate and alone, that is precisely when no one would want to be around you anyway... at least the majority of fair-weather friends suddenly don't even know you... so.). it was always a mystery how and why people would consider me a friend. but at my point in life, i'm realizing how important some of them were. i only touch a few lives... i must reach back to them, to understand myself, and perhaps, to help them understand themselves.
"are you my friend?"
...well, best wishes to kendall in oregon. i'm thankful i got the brief opportunity to speak to him in person before he disappeared into the distance once again.
friendship is either here
or gone...
Thursday, August 28, 2008
eggshell people
a white and almost shiny blankness
and smooth for easy passage
down some dirty birth canal
(but we'll hide that fact
with dryness and polish)
how you lounge in your corner
pretending you could get up
if you really wanted to.
peck-peck-peck
don't peck too hard
how you're blithe and blase
over the way you wouldn't want us
to see what you really are
thinking, how you
keep your cheap ideas
to yourself.
perfection and precise
encapsulated mumbles
is all you like to hear
yourself say.
"the world doesn't get me.
the world can't touch me."
years and years
and even beeswax crayons
or the dyes of seasons
won't stick to you.
you're perfect.
(but i wonder what that smell is?)
and smooth for easy passage
down some dirty birth canal
(but we'll hide that fact
with dryness and polish)
how you lounge in your corner
pretending you could get up
if you really wanted to.
peck-peck-peck
don't peck too hard
how you're blithe and blase
over the way you wouldn't want us
to see what you really are
thinking, how you
keep your cheap ideas
to yourself.
perfection and precise
encapsulated mumbles
is all you like to hear
yourself say.
"the world doesn't get me.
the world can't touch me."
years and years
and even beeswax crayons
or the dyes of seasons
won't stick to you.
you're perfect.
(but i wonder what that smell is?)
on finding wings
if you stretch your arms out wide
as you fall the fall of thunder
there's a slim chance you might fly
(slim as the space between hesitant eyes)
yes, the upwinds may catch you
at an opportune moment, and lift
the weight of you, the heavy bag of bones
of you, upon temperamental and
temporary shoulders.
but only if you stretch your arms out.
only if you reach to embrace the
emptiness or the earth
without fear of either.
as you fall the fall of thunder
there's a slim chance you might fly
(slim as the space between hesitant eyes)
yes, the upwinds may catch you
at an opportune moment, and lift
the weight of you, the heavy bag of bones
of you, upon temperamental and
temporary shoulders.
but only if you stretch your arms out.
only if you reach to embrace the
emptiness or the earth
without fear of either.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
making sense
i know where my sister is.
in this world, everything falls apart, everything is succumbing to the forces of entropy and gravity. sure, "it's gonna happen anyway," but if our lives as human beings retain any semblance of meaning, it's in our efforts to "make sense" (LITERALLY MAKE as in CREATE) sense out of our lives... and that means, to me, being mindful of all of my interactions. "having a care" about what i say (or don't say). you only live once, so why not make it count as much as possible? to refer back to an earlier entry (richard lavoie), why not pass out poker chips to everyone, so that all the people around you have a better chance to enjoy the gamble of life?
neglect is at times necessary, but most of the time, it is an avoidance. i'm painfully aware of this... why waste time, why let neglect fester and grow, when it takes just a little bit of effort, one word perhaps, to keep the world from crumbling just one day longer? i'm vowing (and failing the hypocrisy of that, TRYING) to make more effort in my life to try to "save" the world...
by doing nothing, i only save myself... and have the rest of my tomorrows to feed upon the regrets of what i have lost as a consequence.
(i have enough regrets as it is).
in this world, everything falls apart, everything is succumbing to the forces of entropy and gravity. sure, "it's gonna happen anyway," but if our lives as human beings retain any semblance of meaning, it's in our efforts to "make sense" (LITERALLY MAKE as in CREATE) sense out of our lives... and that means, to me, being mindful of all of my interactions. "having a care" about what i say (or don't say). you only live once, so why not make it count as much as possible? to refer back to an earlier entry (richard lavoie), why not pass out poker chips to everyone, so that all the people around you have a better chance to enjoy the gamble of life?
neglect is at times necessary, but most of the time, it is an avoidance. i'm painfully aware of this... why waste time, why let neglect fester and grow, when it takes just a little bit of effort, one word perhaps, to keep the world from crumbling just one day longer? i'm vowing (and failing the hypocrisy of that, TRYING) to make more effort in my life to try to "save" the world...
by doing nothing, i only save myself... and have the rest of my tomorrows to feed upon the regrets of what i have lost as a consequence.
(i have enough regrets as it is).
yet another stupid thought
okay, so i'm not an artist, i only pretend to be one when no one is looking... but because i'm a parent, it's natural for me to extend my ideas about parenting to the nature of art.
i believe that inspiration (your "muse," whatever) is like a child. of course, you want your child to be good, be smart, be successful... but here's the rub: you can't change the child's essential nature, and you can't force the child to perfectly live up to what you want (those of you parents who read this and laugh with a disapproving cluck: "yes you CAN"; well, this blog is definitely not for you...). the best you can do is "follow the child," "follow the child's interests," and play fair. if you treat a child with respect, and allow the child to freely choose (yeah, yeah, i'm being hypocritical, making it all sound much too easy and clear... but), then you may be surprised by what the child accomplishes.
again, i'm thinking about this in relation to art. in many ways, i BELIEVE (again, not an artist myself) that an artist makes him/herself fundamentally subservient to the muse/inspiration/whatever. that is, the artist must FOLLOW the process. any imposition of overt control tends to deaden things; it scares the muse away (and then you have to go through the long process of finding her scroll and burning it; read "calliope" by neil gaiman, sandman comics). sure, sometimes by asserting control over the process, you may seem to "get where you want to"; but more often than not, the work will seem stilted, forced.
parents can accomplish marvelous things with their children. teach them geography, get them to read at age 1. but at times, this "artwork" appears stilted, forced, rehearsed. and let's see if its enduring at all...
children/the artistic process is diametrically opposed to force. children/the artistic process is by nature spontaneous, creative... let children play. the world will steal away their souls soon enough; the world will teach them who's boss soon enough. in the meantime, in the dwindling playtime, the time for art, let the children play, let the muses set about their "work."
i believe that inspiration (your "muse," whatever) is like a child. of course, you want your child to be good, be smart, be successful... but here's the rub: you can't change the child's essential nature, and you can't force the child to perfectly live up to what you want (those of you parents who read this and laugh with a disapproving cluck: "yes you CAN"; well, this blog is definitely not for you...). the best you can do is "follow the child," "follow the child's interests," and play fair. if you treat a child with respect, and allow the child to freely choose (yeah, yeah, i'm being hypocritical, making it all sound much too easy and clear... but), then you may be surprised by what the child accomplishes.
again, i'm thinking about this in relation to art. in many ways, i BELIEVE (again, not an artist myself) that an artist makes him/herself fundamentally subservient to the muse/inspiration/whatever. that is, the artist must FOLLOW the process. any imposition of overt control tends to deaden things; it scares the muse away (and then you have to go through the long process of finding her scroll and burning it; read "calliope" by neil gaiman, sandman comics). sure, sometimes by asserting control over the process, you may seem to "get where you want to"; but more often than not, the work will seem stilted, forced.
parents can accomplish marvelous things with their children. teach them geography, get them to read at age 1. but at times, this "artwork" appears stilted, forced, rehearsed. and let's see if its enduring at all...
children/the artistic process is diametrically opposed to force. children/the artistic process is by nature spontaneous, creative... let children play. the world will steal away their souls soon enough; the world will teach them who's boss soon enough. in the meantime, in the dwindling playtime, the time for art, let the children play, let the muses set about their "work."
some stupid thoughts
stupid thought #1: this is a paradox. if you are really interested in someone/something (but usually someone), then it is probably best to practice disinterest. and if you are disinterested (or even feel antipathy) towards someone/something, it's probably best to practice being interested. this is why i think it works (we'll leave it up to you all to decide via experience whether it does or not): it is a fake still point. there is no real or authentic still point in the world we live in, because we're living IN it. everything in this world is in flux and motion. but if we feel a motivation (either towards or away from something), and if we counter that motivation, we "spin" ourselves and cancel our original momentum, such that we "approximate" stillness. from that perspective, we are better able to appreciate our situation... also, and here's a related paradox, something that i've come to believe in (again, you all likely have different experiences): if you stay still, really stay still, then the universe kind of falls into place (debates about what that means ["staying still", "falling into place"] notwithstanding).
stupid thought #2: i was thinking about things in terms of calculus, taking differentials. now, i'm not a math person by any means. i think i got through calculus purely by guesses between naps... but i kinda understood differentials. differentials are sort of an abstraction of information. example: on the concrete level, you have position. then, you have a change of position over time: velocity. next, you have changes in velocity over time: acceleration. and so on.
if you're driving in traffic, you've probably encountered this phenomenon. if you're really impatient and not particularly perceptive, then you operate on a more or less concrete level and judge the traffic more or less by the position of the cars. for example, if you're in a lane tailgating a car, and you see that the adjacent lane has "space" because the car there is further ahead, you would change lanes. sometimes this may work. but what if the car in your original lane was actually traveling faster than the car in the adjacent lane? in this case, it would be better to stay in your lane, because despite the seemingly poor positioning, due to differences in velocity, you'd probably pass the car in the next lane by just staying where you are...
it's a matter of "seeing" other levels of information, of, to use calculus terminology (likely improperly) taking differentials. by seeing on a "higher level," you can seemingly predict the future, because you can see "tendencies."
then again, the concrete level always has the final say... for example, you might "predict" anything you want based on what you perceive of the velocity of the cars around you, but at any given moment, any of those cars could suddenly slam on the brakes, or swerve out of control... and then, all of your predictions about which lane would be best to stay in sort of gets thrown out the window (maybe literally), and it's every car for itself...
stupid thought #3: it's been said before. the beginning is similar to the end. all babies tend to look alike, and all old people tend to look alike. sure, the beginning doesn't look like the end, but it mimics/repeats it in its, well, anonymity.
i tend to look upon life as some sort of sine wave. in youth, we're always accelerating towards "maturity," and in old age, after our motivations escape us, we feel ourselves accelerating towards the end. but in between, at this ambiguous mid life period, things have the illusion of staying still (refer back to stupid thought #1) because the deceleration INTO maturity and the acceleration out of it both cancel each other out. and at that stillpoint, we appear to have a "privileged perspective" of how high we are, and how strange that height is, and how weird where we are is, especially compared to where we come from, and where we are going. there is, i think, an icarian headiness about mid-life (this is why i like the icarus myth so much). you've somehow reached this place in the mid-skies; you've somehow acquired a perspective... why, oh why can't it remain this way forever, when it seems, for the first time, that the world makes sense!?
but no, it's our destiny to fly too high, and to have our "clear sight" taken away in a dizzying tailspin into the sea...
stupid thought #2: i was thinking about things in terms of calculus, taking differentials. now, i'm not a math person by any means. i think i got through calculus purely by guesses between naps... but i kinda understood differentials. differentials are sort of an abstraction of information. example: on the concrete level, you have position. then, you have a change of position over time: velocity. next, you have changes in velocity over time: acceleration. and so on.
if you're driving in traffic, you've probably encountered this phenomenon. if you're really impatient and not particularly perceptive, then you operate on a more or less concrete level and judge the traffic more or less by the position of the cars. for example, if you're in a lane tailgating a car, and you see that the adjacent lane has "space" because the car there is further ahead, you would change lanes. sometimes this may work. but what if the car in your original lane was actually traveling faster than the car in the adjacent lane? in this case, it would be better to stay in your lane, because despite the seemingly poor positioning, due to differences in velocity, you'd probably pass the car in the next lane by just staying where you are...
it's a matter of "seeing" other levels of information, of, to use calculus terminology (likely improperly) taking differentials. by seeing on a "higher level," you can seemingly predict the future, because you can see "tendencies."
then again, the concrete level always has the final say... for example, you might "predict" anything you want based on what you perceive of the velocity of the cars around you, but at any given moment, any of those cars could suddenly slam on the brakes, or swerve out of control... and then, all of your predictions about which lane would be best to stay in sort of gets thrown out the window (maybe literally), and it's every car for itself...
stupid thought #3: it's been said before. the beginning is similar to the end. all babies tend to look alike, and all old people tend to look alike. sure, the beginning doesn't look like the end, but it mimics/repeats it in its, well, anonymity.
i tend to look upon life as some sort of sine wave. in youth, we're always accelerating towards "maturity," and in old age, after our motivations escape us, we feel ourselves accelerating towards the end. but in between, at this ambiguous mid life period, things have the illusion of staying still (refer back to stupid thought #1) because the deceleration INTO maturity and the acceleration out of it both cancel each other out. and at that stillpoint, we appear to have a "privileged perspective" of how high we are, and how strange that height is, and how weird where we are is, especially compared to where we come from, and where we are going. there is, i think, an icarian headiness about mid-life (this is why i like the icarus myth so much). you've somehow reached this place in the mid-skies; you've somehow acquired a perspective... why, oh why can't it remain this way forever, when it seems, for the first time, that the world makes sense!?
but no, it's our destiny to fly too high, and to have our "clear sight" taken away in a dizzying tailspin into the sea...
Monday, August 25, 2008
applying tensegrity concepts to biological structural integrity
i found this cool website while looking for anatomical depictions of the torso. check it out! it attempts to analyze the structure of the body as a tensegrity object (buckminster fuller). it discusses tensegrity in the body as a whole, and then examines key structural articulations (joints), providing tensegrity models for these as well. i'd actually be interested in purchasing some of these models, in order to model the structural aberrations i see with my patients. visualizing "where" a line is slack or tight is key to knowing where and how to work...
here's the website address:
www.intensiondesigns.com
last minute reprieve, "mercy street"
i got a video from my friend kendall last week. this morning, before i took the kids to violin, i watched it. it's "cv" by peter gabriel, and it was a collection of 8 of his videos. it included "big time" and "sledgehammer," which i thought the kids would like. "shock the monkey" and "i don't remember" i was kinda concerned about, because the images could be a little "shocking"; nevertheless, the kids seemed to like it, and when we had to rush off to violin, they kinda complained, asking to see videos #7 and #8...
the songs which really stabbed me with nostalgia were the quieter ones, "don't give up" and "mercy street." i remember, on nights when i felt lost and alone at williams (which, in the beginning, were several and consecutive), i would listen to peter gabriel, and those two songs in particular, and feel a sense of comfort... tonight, "mercy street" in particular keeps playing in my head, and i almost feel this welling up sensation in my chest...
i took the kids over to the tenrikyo bazaar after violin practice... willow did fine, she's actually playing more notes now (d, e, f#, g). aiden, on the other hand, wasn't taking things seriously at all, and i had to "punish him" (no new toys, particularly lego, until he gets three good lessons from tada).
at the bazaar, things were really hot. it's always kinda surreal to go to the bazaar, see faces i half-recognize growing older, see the new crop of attractive young recruits to the faith... at times when i look at some of the younger kids, i think about that exciting transitional time, being a hip japanese american punk at the cusp of two cultures... but then i realize i kinda sorta lived through that, and no, it wasn't all that great. exciting, perhaps, but ultimately deflatable... no girlfriends to speak of during that phase, in any case... (then again, maybe this next generation is luckier in that regard.)
i sometimes regret not being a full-fledged tenrikyo person... there is a beauty, an irreplaceable beauty, in the sincerity and kindness of tenrikyo people... some might call it simple, but it is the same sort of simplicity that allows people to endure some pretty terrible stuff... never let it be said that the devoutly religious are not deep and vast people with souls unplumbable... as i said, i sometimes wish i were an indistinguishable member of that crowd... but as an arrogant and flakey individualist, i tend to shy from real and overt commitments to anything, particularly when claims to the soul are involved. i believe that miki nakayama, the foundress of tenrikyo, was a beautiful, self-sacrificing soul... and that most followers are as bright and clear as the summer sun in tenri city, blinding amidst that blue sky. but... too much clarity is not for me. i need to hide in my complexity...
we ate a bit over at the bazaar tent; i had beef stew, and it was actually really good. a lot of tender chunks of meat. and then it was off to entertain the kids. they played the three kids' games with gusto, earning a bag of candy. i of course gave my annual obligatory handshake to mr. miyauchi, the children's band director; during my youth, i was the "star" male accordion player (yeah, yeah, i know, accordions are for geeks) for his band... i really liked miyauchi, always thought he was this cool hip young (though now, maybe not so much) dude from japan, a wanna be rocker. again, whenever i meet him at these things, i feel guilty for not fulfilling his expectations of me, of not becoming a more devout and involved member... BUT.
while at the bounce house, my brother arrived with his wife and two kids, landon and landry. landry got upset at one point, so as has become customary, i held her and walked around to calm her down... WHAT CAN I SAY!??? I AM REALLY REALLY REALLY GOOD AT THIS. i mean it. give me ANY BABY. within limits (i don't have breasts), i can calm a child and even put it to sleep in like five or ten minutes... so anyway, i held onto landry, did my signature taiji rocking walk, and even threw in some bagua figure eights, and after not too long, landry was awake but quiet, absorbing everything in her wide eyes...
i had to leave lynn and the kids to work on a couple of patients... and then, home.
let me tell you, there's been a quiet panic in me this weekend. i have been thinking in the abstract what i would do for my student teaching tomorrow. i thought i had some pretty good ideas, but then i had a lot of doubts about whether i was doing overkill, and throwing stuff that would fly over their heads... i actually got out a lot of our glassware, and starting filling them with various amounts of water to make a musical instrument... but then at 10 or so this evening, my mentor emailed me to let me know that she had had to take on another student, and that i would have to make other arrangements for my student teaching... a reprieve!!! but, of course, i was sad... my mentor is an awesome teacher, someone i would have hoped to emulate...
... so this evening, as i lay in bed next to lynn, with the background of an on again off again wind/rain storm outside, i started talking to her about random stuff. and the subject of my sister came up... and, i swear to you, i started feeling so guilty, so damned guilty, at neglecting her... she has become such a non-presence in my life, that after a while, i stopped seeing her, stopped asking about her. and suddenly, the sound of the storm outside made me think of her, of her desperation, of her pain. the sound, the thoughts, they made me worried and restless... the only thing that seemed to calm me, perhaps serving as some sort of soundtrack to my anxiety, was the peter gabriel song, "mercy street." the lyrics revolved around in my head:
"dreaming of mercy street
where you're inside out
dreaming of mercy
in your daddy's arms again..."
i don't know, maybe not perfectly relevant or apt, but it made me feel a sense of comfort, and i wished that feeling to my sister, wherever she was. i have always wished the best for my sister, at times swore to take her place in hell, but as other concerns (my wife and kids) intervened, i guess i forgot about any such pledges... isn't that how it always is??? but i love my sister, i do, and wherever she is, i hope that she is alright, and that she has a hope to live by and live for.
please, sis, be well.
the songs which really stabbed me with nostalgia were the quieter ones, "don't give up" and "mercy street." i remember, on nights when i felt lost and alone at williams (which, in the beginning, were several and consecutive), i would listen to peter gabriel, and those two songs in particular, and feel a sense of comfort... tonight, "mercy street" in particular keeps playing in my head, and i almost feel this welling up sensation in my chest...
i took the kids over to the tenrikyo bazaar after violin practice... willow did fine, she's actually playing more notes now (d, e, f#, g). aiden, on the other hand, wasn't taking things seriously at all, and i had to "punish him" (no new toys, particularly lego, until he gets three good lessons from tada).
at the bazaar, things were really hot. it's always kinda surreal to go to the bazaar, see faces i half-recognize growing older, see the new crop of attractive young recruits to the faith... at times when i look at some of the younger kids, i think about that exciting transitional time, being a hip japanese american punk at the cusp of two cultures... but then i realize i kinda sorta lived through that, and no, it wasn't all that great. exciting, perhaps, but ultimately deflatable... no girlfriends to speak of during that phase, in any case... (then again, maybe this next generation is luckier in that regard.)
i sometimes regret not being a full-fledged tenrikyo person... there is a beauty, an irreplaceable beauty, in the sincerity and kindness of tenrikyo people... some might call it simple, but it is the same sort of simplicity that allows people to endure some pretty terrible stuff... never let it be said that the devoutly religious are not deep and vast people with souls unplumbable... as i said, i sometimes wish i were an indistinguishable member of that crowd... but as an arrogant and flakey individualist, i tend to shy from real and overt commitments to anything, particularly when claims to the soul are involved. i believe that miki nakayama, the foundress of tenrikyo, was a beautiful, self-sacrificing soul... and that most followers are as bright and clear as the summer sun in tenri city, blinding amidst that blue sky. but... too much clarity is not for me. i need to hide in my complexity...
we ate a bit over at the bazaar tent; i had beef stew, and it was actually really good. a lot of tender chunks of meat. and then it was off to entertain the kids. they played the three kids' games with gusto, earning a bag of candy. i of course gave my annual obligatory handshake to mr. miyauchi, the children's band director; during my youth, i was the "star" male accordion player (yeah, yeah, i know, accordions are for geeks) for his band... i really liked miyauchi, always thought he was this cool hip young (though now, maybe not so much) dude from japan, a wanna be rocker. again, whenever i meet him at these things, i feel guilty for not fulfilling his expectations of me, of not becoming a more devout and involved member... BUT.
while at the bounce house, my brother arrived with his wife and two kids, landon and landry. landry got upset at one point, so as has become customary, i held her and walked around to calm her down... WHAT CAN I SAY!??? I AM REALLY REALLY REALLY GOOD AT THIS. i mean it. give me ANY BABY. within limits (i don't have breasts), i can calm a child and even put it to sleep in like five or ten minutes... so anyway, i held onto landry, did my signature taiji rocking walk, and even threw in some bagua figure eights, and after not too long, landry was awake but quiet, absorbing everything in her wide eyes...
i had to leave lynn and the kids to work on a couple of patients... and then, home.
let me tell you, there's been a quiet panic in me this weekend. i have been thinking in the abstract what i would do for my student teaching tomorrow. i thought i had some pretty good ideas, but then i had a lot of doubts about whether i was doing overkill, and throwing stuff that would fly over their heads... i actually got out a lot of our glassware, and starting filling them with various amounts of water to make a musical instrument... but then at 10 or so this evening, my mentor emailed me to let me know that she had had to take on another student, and that i would have to make other arrangements for my student teaching... a reprieve!!! but, of course, i was sad... my mentor is an awesome teacher, someone i would have hoped to emulate...
... so this evening, as i lay in bed next to lynn, with the background of an on again off again wind/rain storm outside, i started talking to her about random stuff. and the subject of my sister came up... and, i swear to you, i started feeling so guilty, so damned guilty, at neglecting her... she has become such a non-presence in my life, that after a while, i stopped seeing her, stopped asking about her. and suddenly, the sound of the storm outside made me think of her, of her desperation, of her pain. the sound, the thoughts, they made me worried and restless... the only thing that seemed to calm me, perhaps serving as some sort of soundtrack to my anxiety, was the peter gabriel song, "mercy street." the lyrics revolved around in my head:
"dreaming of mercy street
where you're inside out
dreaming of mercy
in your daddy's arms again..."
i don't know, maybe not perfectly relevant or apt, but it made me feel a sense of comfort, and i wished that feeling to my sister, wherever she was. i have always wished the best for my sister, at times swore to take her place in hell, but as other concerns (my wife and kids) intervened, i guess i forgot about any such pledges... isn't that how it always is??? but i love my sister, i do, and wherever she is, i hope that she is alright, and that she has a hope to live by and live for.
please, sis, be well.
idea for a demonstration in science class
okay, i'm in a desperate brainstorming phase right now... i intend to teach my students how to measure volume, and tie volume measurements in cylinders (?) to variations in pitch... from there, i would like students to hypothesize about the nature of sound... and as i youtubed ways to "see sound waves," i discovered this cool video: salt on a black board, presumably over a speaker... check it out.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
points and lines
i've written something along these "lines" before... back when i was thinking up what to teach my earlier tuina 2 class (which, to be quite honest, didn't "feel" quite as satisfactory as i'd have liked), i was mulling over the two metaphors defining "acupuncture," "points" (acupoints) and "lines" (channels/meridians). as i am (it is becoming more and more apparent) a devout structuralist, tying these two metaphors into the living flesh, we get "trigger points" and "myofascial continuities."
allow me to tell you how i got onto this structuralist theme. i try my best to address the problems of my patients, many of whom suffered from musculoskeletal complaints. the problem that i always attribute to my foray into first the musculoskeletal, and then the fascial realm, was frozen shoulder. now, frozen shoulder is a deceptively simple problem. you get a locked shoulder, restricted in motion, with a clear pain pattern: often "deep" in the shoulder, radiating down in a slight line just lateral to the biceps muscle... i had analyzed this pain pattern via chinese meridians with little result. by straight "linear" chinese meridian thinking, this sort of frozen shoulder exhibited signs of an obstruction of the lung or large intestine channels (because the pain apparently followed those lines). so, standard treatment would involve utilizing a few local ashi points (tender spots) and a distal point or two.
there are variations on this theme, like whether you use moxibustion, or the dreaded electrostim, but basically that's it.
it was only when i reached a consistent wall (or plateau) that i decided to explore outside the box, if you will. that's when i read about trigger point therapy, as developed by janet travell... on the surface, trigger points resemble what chinese medicine calls "ashi points" (in japanese, kori): tender spots, which, when pressed, often exhibit "twitch responses" and/or a specific pain referral pattern. what was fascinating about travell's work was the extent to which she mapped trigger points, and correlated them with the dysfunction of specific muscles or muscle groups.
for example, the pain referral pattern i encountered in treating frozen shoulder was most likely due, not to any muscles on the front of the shoulder (deltoid, attachments of pectoralis major, minor, etc.) but to dysfunctions of the rotator cuff muscles, which, more often than not, were located on the BACK of the shoulder (the exception being subscapularis, which lay deep within the shoulder joint, on the anterior surface of the scapula). by analyzing patient symptoms via trigger point theory, i was able to more accurately find the REAL active points, and encountered greater success.
... BUT. a pointilist philosophy will only take you so far. discovering trigger points was one thing, but it tended to make me myopic, analyzing problems solely in terms of localized tight (and shortened) muscles. i noticed that at times, there were gross structural problems that possibly contributed to a specific, localized problem; the trouble was, i couldn't connect things in any meaningful way. again, looking to chinese meridian theory provided SOME answers, perhaps in ideal circumstances, but patients NEVER come in with simple problems. i needed a more accurate "linear" system to describe connections across the body.
that's when i discovered thomas myers work, "anatomy trains." interestingly enough, some of his myofascial continuities mimic almost exactly certain chinese meridians. for example, the stomach and urinary bladder meridians and gallbladder meridians. however, his work looked at them as purely structural entities, ignoring the "energetic" emphasis given in chinese thought (maybe a good, maybe a bad thing). also, he added several lines which may have been implied in chinese theory, but which were made much more explicit: the spiral line is key in this regard (fascinating to explore the spiral orientations in nature: dna, tree growth, etc. also fascinating to see how the chinese articulated this, perhaps not explicitly in the meridian system, but: take a look at chen style drawings of the body, particularly when discussing "spiral twining" or "chan si jing").
now that i'm orienting myself as a structuralist, i'm of course attempting to "translate" chinese meridian energetic understandings to suit my techniques. in tcm, we always talk about "energy," and either its lack or excess in any given part of the body. it is often metaphorically expressed as water, and the meridians are like pipes. so we open pipes to let "bad" excess water out, and we open other pipes to fill empty pipes... the trouble i have always had with this metaphor (but didn't dare express it) was: 1) what is this energy that we are talking about??? is it a palpable thing that flows through me!?? [okay, while i do believe in the existence of qi/energy, i just believe our understanding/experience of it is superficial... we NEED to have a way to determine what it is, and how it flows... not just stick a few needles and expect results... cynical!?] 2) given that this energy exists, how does it flow? does it have a directionality? 3) given 1 and 2, how do we influence it via the needles? how do we communicate our intentions via the needles? we speak of tonification/sedation techniques, but how, concretely, do these techniques differ from each other, such that the body can recognize what to do with the signals???
ask most acupuncturists such questions, and they will have to rely upon platitudes... unless you find a rare master who actually knows/sees/feels the flow of energy in a very visceral way...
myself, i am very concrete, simple-minded. i only truly work with what i can feel. and the only thing i am good at feeling is changes in the texture of tissue: knots and such. so naturally, i look at the meridian system in such a way that it justifies my perspective... it all makes sense! instead of thinking about "energy" as a "substance that flows," why not think of "energy" in terms of potential/kinetic energy? when we encounter an "obstruction in the channels," it is not like a hairball clogged in a pipe, but a myofascial unit that fails to either shorten or lengthen appropriately, thus passing inappropriate "tension" (another way of viewing maladaptive/pathological energy) throughout the structure of the body. we "free" excesses via needling techniques that insert into obstructions, and the directionality of the needling technique determines and communicates our intention to "lengthen" in any given direction... it makes sense when considered this way...
i am committed to analyzing people in this way... in a way, i can't help but analyze problems this way. granted, i apply acupuncture in other ways too, in ways i can't understand/justify, the traditional approaches... but oddly enough, i've discovered ways to treat problems that i wouldn't normally consider to be under the aegis of musculoskeletal or myofascial problems... is it an issue of seeing nails everywhere, because i'm a sledgehammer!?
...
...but back to the title of this entry, points and lines. i was thinking about points and lines in more general philosophical ways. lines connect. lines extend. lines represent journeys, the binding of two points. dots/points, on the other hand, represent locuses of significance, cities, for instance.
in our thoughts, memories, points are nexuses of significance. they are what we hold to, like in our "power point" notes... the lines, on the other hand, tend to be overlooked... they are necessary, for they "give meaning" to the points, they establish the links between, so that we can "get from" point a to point b. but the only times we talk about the lines themselves, or anytime we struggle to talk about the line in itself, we are involved in a narrative... a story. a progression. and in this narrative, we must express a change. how does boston become new york? how does the east coast become the west coast?
points are the synchronic, static determinants of identity. they are the things we "point to" and say, "this makes me." lines are the diachronic, historical determinants of identity. the lines are the stories we tell about ourselves, the things that take time both to develop and to delineate; it tells others, "this is how i got here." both necessary, both dependent on each other...
allow me to tell you how i got onto this structuralist theme. i try my best to address the problems of my patients, many of whom suffered from musculoskeletal complaints. the problem that i always attribute to my foray into first the musculoskeletal, and then the fascial realm, was frozen shoulder. now, frozen shoulder is a deceptively simple problem. you get a locked shoulder, restricted in motion, with a clear pain pattern: often "deep" in the shoulder, radiating down in a slight line just lateral to the biceps muscle... i had analyzed this pain pattern via chinese meridians with little result. by straight "linear" chinese meridian thinking, this sort of frozen shoulder exhibited signs of an obstruction of the lung or large intestine channels (because the pain apparently followed those lines). so, standard treatment would involve utilizing a few local ashi points (tender spots) and a distal point or two.
there are variations on this theme, like whether you use moxibustion, or the dreaded electrostim, but basically that's it.
it was only when i reached a consistent wall (or plateau) that i decided to explore outside the box, if you will. that's when i read about trigger point therapy, as developed by janet travell... on the surface, trigger points resemble what chinese medicine calls "ashi points" (in japanese, kori): tender spots, which, when pressed, often exhibit "twitch responses" and/or a specific pain referral pattern. what was fascinating about travell's work was the extent to which she mapped trigger points, and correlated them with the dysfunction of specific muscles or muscle groups.
for example, the pain referral pattern i encountered in treating frozen shoulder was most likely due, not to any muscles on the front of the shoulder (deltoid, attachments of pectoralis major, minor, etc.) but to dysfunctions of the rotator cuff muscles, which, more often than not, were located on the BACK of the shoulder (the exception being subscapularis, which lay deep within the shoulder joint, on the anterior surface of the scapula). by analyzing patient symptoms via trigger point theory, i was able to more accurately find the REAL active points, and encountered greater success.
... BUT. a pointilist philosophy will only take you so far. discovering trigger points was one thing, but it tended to make me myopic, analyzing problems solely in terms of localized tight (and shortened) muscles. i noticed that at times, there were gross structural problems that possibly contributed to a specific, localized problem; the trouble was, i couldn't connect things in any meaningful way. again, looking to chinese meridian theory provided SOME answers, perhaps in ideal circumstances, but patients NEVER come in with simple problems. i needed a more accurate "linear" system to describe connections across the body.
that's when i discovered thomas myers work, "anatomy trains." interestingly enough, some of his myofascial continuities mimic almost exactly certain chinese meridians. for example, the stomach and urinary bladder meridians and gallbladder meridians. however, his work looked at them as purely structural entities, ignoring the "energetic" emphasis given in chinese thought (maybe a good, maybe a bad thing). also, he added several lines which may have been implied in chinese theory, but which were made much more explicit: the spiral line is key in this regard (fascinating to explore the spiral orientations in nature: dna, tree growth, etc. also fascinating to see how the chinese articulated this, perhaps not explicitly in the meridian system, but: take a look at chen style drawings of the body, particularly when discussing "spiral twining" or "chan si jing").
now that i'm orienting myself as a structuralist, i'm of course attempting to "translate" chinese meridian energetic understandings to suit my techniques. in tcm, we always talk about "energy," and either its lack or excess in any given part of the body. it is often metaphorically expressed as water, and the meridians are like pipes. so we open pipes to let "bad" excess water out, and we open other pipes to fill empty pipes... the trouble i have always had with this metaphor (but didn't dare express it) was: 1) what is this energy that we are talking about??? is it a palpable thing that flows through me!?? [okay, while i do believe in the existence of qi/energy, i just believe our understanding/experience of it is superficial... we NEED to have a way to determine what it is, and how it flows... not just stick a few needles and expect results... cynical!?] 2) given that this energy exists, how does it flow? does it have a directionality? 3) given 1 and 2, how do we influence it via the needles? how do we communicate our intentions via the needles? we speak of tonification/sedation techniques, but how, concretely, do these techniques differ from each other, such that the body can recognize what to do with the signals???
ask most acupuncturists such questions, and they will have to rely upon platitudes... unless you find a rare master who actually knows/sees/feels the flow of energy in a very visceral way...
myself, i am very concrete, simple-minded. i only truly work with what i can feel. and the only thing i am good at feeling is changes in the texture of tissue: knots and such. so naturally, i look at the meridian system in such a way that it justifies my perspective... it all makes sense! instead of thinking about "energy" as a "substance that flows," why not think of "energy" in terms of potential/kinetic energy? when we encounter an "obstruction in the channels," it is not like a hairball clogged in a pipe, but a myofascial unit that fails to either shorten or lengthen appropriately, thus passing inappropriate "tension" (another way of viewing maladaptive/pathological energy) throughout the structure of the body. we "free" excesses via needling techniques that insert into obstructions, and the directionality of the needling technique determines and communicates our intention to "lengthen" in any given direction... it makes sense when considered this way...
i am committed to analyzing people in this way... in a way, i can't help but analyze problems this way. granted, i apply acupuncture in other ways too, in ways i can't understand/justify, the traditional approaches... but oddly enough, i've discovered ways to treat problems that i wouldn't normally consider to be under the aegis of musculoskeletal or myofascial problems... is it an issue of seeing nails everywhere, because i'm a sledgehammer!?
...
...but back to the title of this entry, points and lines. i was thinking about points and lines in more general philosophical ways. lines connect. lines extend. lines represent journeys, the binding of two points. dots/points, on the other hand, represent locuses of significance, cities, for instance.
in our thoughts, memories, points are nexuses of significance. they are what we hold to, like in our "power point" notes... the lines, on the other hand, tend to be overlooked... they are necessary, for they "give meaning" to the points, they establish the links between, so that we can "get from" point a to point b. but the only times we talk about the lines themselves, or anytime we struggle to talk about the line in itself, we are involved in a narrative... a story. a progression. and in this narrative, we must express a change. how does boston become new york? how does the east coast become the west coast?
points are the synchronic, static determinants of identity. they are the things we "point to" and say, "this makes me." lines are the diachronic, historical determinants of identity. the lines are the stories we tell about ourselves, the things that take time both to develop and to delineate; it tells others, "this is how i got here." both necessary, both dependent on each other...
about contact improv; thoughts on interaction
so, i was reading up on parkour (you should check it out- very interesting philosophy). and i stumbled across "contact improvisation," a dance technique said to have a loose tie (and i emphasize loose) to parkour (i think because of the "improvisational nature of interacting with another"). here are some videos, one serious and one mocking... (maybe you may have trouble deciding which is which) no, not to be disparaging, but you can see how contact improv leaves itself "open" for abuse (in MANY ways).
... i think about this in the context of "push hands" (tui shou) practice in taijiquan... i also think about this in terms of everyday interaction with people, particularly, but also objects... a person/object only appears as it is because of our expectations of how to interact with it/him/her... the ways in which we interact with our environment are largely determined by culture. even in "interaction contexts" with the explicit goal of "freeing us" from culturally determined interaction schema, there are rules. without those rules, there is potential for damage and abuse (also potential for a lot of ridiculous, frivolous behavior)...
as an exploratory tool, perhaps even as a therapeutic tool, to determine one's relationship to space/others, i think it would be interesting... however, as with everything, to play the game, you've got to know the rules... note in the first video how there is this subtle struggle between two individuals because neither is clear where the motion is going, who is in control... (common problem in push hands, at times...)
i would say most "interactive" arts "reassert" a new "naturalistic" order/relationing: note the tie between contact improv to "physics" (i.e., learning how to be a body in motion, or a body at rest), and the tie between parkour and hunters in africa (who, without any "gym equipment" have developed lithe bodies, solely in response to their natural environments).
we are always in relation to space, to others... reasserting the potential for new interactions MUST be accompanied by new rules for those interactions. a common failing of the western mindset is the assumption of a tabula rasa, a blank slate for "unprogrammed contact." but this does not exist. objects/people are ALWAYS produced in context. fetuses "appear" in a biological context, the womb, influenced by countless minute forces/fields that are INDISTINGUISHABLE from it: gravity, electricity, etc...
tui shou, or push hands, is a highly structured activity, because it is designed to train a specific kind of sensitivity in a specific kind of "stance." if you engage in any kind of "relational" activity, always be aware of what you are doing it for, what is the purpose, what are the rules... be wary of any "art" which proposes a "natural" state; while it may be "natural" in the sense of more healthy/efficient/etc., it IS a reprogramming, and you should be aware of its boundaries. simply "trusting" in the naturalness of anything is bound to make you: 1) narcissistic/egotistical (if you are performing this "art," then things are "right"); 2) incompatible with "true" contexts...
this goes, by the way, for zen, zazen... while the object of zen practice is "enlightenment," it too is a specific cultural practice. zen masters like dogen were poignantly aware of this (thus his question of "what is the object of sitting?"). as long as you are aware of the context of any activity, and as long as you align yourself with that context, the activity doesn't "fill you", you "fill" the activity...
... i think about this in the context of "push hands" (tui shou) practice in taijiquan... i also think about this in terms of everyday interaction with people, particularly, but also objects... a person/object only appears as it is because of our expectations of how to interact with it/him/her... the ways in which we interact with our environment are largely determined by culture. even in "interaction contexts" with the explicit goal of "freeing us" from culturally determined interaction schema, there are rules. without those rules, there is potential for damage and abuse (also potential for a lot of ridiculous, frivolous behavior)...
as an exploratory tool, perhaps even as a therapeutic tool, to determine one's relationship to space/others, i think it would be interesting... however, as with everything, to play the game, you've got to know the rules... note in the first video how there is this subtle struggle between two individuals because neither is clear where the motion is going, who is in control... (common problem in push hands, at times...)
i would say most "interactive" arts "reassert" a new "naturalistic" order/relationing: note the tie between contact improv to "physics" (i.e., learning how to be a body in motion, or a body at rest), and the tie between parkour and hunters in africa (who, without any "gym equipment" have developed lithe bodies, solely in response to their natural environments).
we are always in relation to space, to others... reasserting the potential for new interactions MUST be accompanied by new rules for those interactions. a common failing of the western mindset is the assumption of a tabula rasa, a blank slate for "unprogrammed contact." but this does not exist. objects/people are ALWAYS produced in context. fetuses "appear" in a biological context, the womb, influenced by countless minute forces/fields that are INDISTINGUISHABLE from it: gravity, electricity, etc...
tui shou, or push hands, is a highly structured activity, because it is designed to train a specific kind of sensitivity in a specific kind of "stance." if you engage in any kind of "relational" activity, always be aware of what you are doing it for, what is the purpose, what are the rules... be wary of any "art" which proposes a "natural" state; while it may be "natural" in the sense of more healthy/efficient/etc., it IS a reprogramming, and you should be aware of its boundaries. simply "trusting" in the naturalness of anything is bound to make you: 1) narcissistic/egotistical (if you are performing this "art," then things are "right"); 2) incompatible with "true" contexts...
this goes, by the way, for zen, zazen... while the object of zen practice is "enlightenment," it too is a specific cultural practice. zen masters like dogen were poignantly aware of this (thus his question of "what is the object of sitting?"). as long as you are aware of the context of any activity, and as long as you align yourself with that context, the activity doesn't "fill you", you "fill" the activity...
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
can't sleep
so i drank a couple of mountain dews earlier today (bad idea). now i can't sleep. i'm trying to kill time jumping from one website to another, writing random crap, and being an all around e-hooligan... the kids are asleep, lynn is asleep... the only sound (well, it's a pretty big sound) is the rain pouring, streaming outside... a friend of mine agreed with me recently that the sound of night rain when you are in bed is one of the most beautiful (i don't think that was the word, maybe "coolest"; "beautiful" sounds gay, especially with guys) sounds there is. even, or particularly, when the storm is really powerful... i suppose it has something to do with contrasts. you don't appreciate how warm and cozy you are until you can actually hear the alternative...
sometimes i feel like i am dying inside. sometimes i feel like i wouldn't mind dying. not that i am sad or anything. far from it. i am so happy to have lived my life, my children are wonderful, my wife is wonderful. it's just... it's hard to describe... sometimes i feel like i've used up all my luck. does that make sense? that there's a truck or a cancer gene with my name on it. it's been held in check all these years, the truck got caught in traffic, the cancer gene somehow was suppressed (probably with overdoses of caffeine). but i sense, i imagine, it is coming.
i try to live my life as though every day were my last (yeah, yeah, i wrote that stupid entry a while ago; reversal of sayings and all that)... that's not to say that i don't waste time, because i do. A LOT OF IT. like right now. but what is wasting time, exactly? i try to be responsible, but to be honest, there are times when i just have to respect my limitations. a part of me likes to get addicted to things, likes to become mindless. and, so long as it's not overly terrible, i just let it do its thing. why not? they say in zen that the best way to control a cow is to allow it to graze free in the pasture. no fences. when you feel something, when you feel nothing, you just let yourself drift and be. that's the theory, anyway. so far it's working. or not.
...
i remember a couple things about when i was a kid. i remember that, no matter where i went, cats always drew to me like a magnet. i mean, they really drew to me. like they would purr and rub themselves against my legs... kinda weird.
i also remember that, if i lay on my back with my belly towards the sky, if i even turned over towards the sky, i would feel this strange disorienting sensation as though i were being pulled upwards, almost like i was going to fall into the empty bowl above...
...
it's frustrating, but i'm becoming a devout structuralist. if only i could have been reincarnated as a rolfer, i wouldn't feel this - religious pain. wouldn't feel so sacrilegious, like i'm committing blasphemy. i am an acupuncturist. energy and all that... but jeez, i'm so much more effective at analyzing problems based on structure and attempting to lengthen myofascial lines...
i've felt this frustration before... there are so many times when i want to help people, when i KNOW i could help people... but i am bound by context. in this context, i am a teacher of a specific subject; in that context, i do acupuncture (not spiritual psychological bs). it's just not proper for me to do certain things for certain people at certain times. it's a matter of- boundaries, respect.
if i didn't have a family, if i didn't have any ties to anyone, and if i weren't so damned self-reserved, sometimes i think i actually could be like kwai chang and bleed myself dry to the world. sometimes i believe i have no self-respect, no sense of self-worth... (SOMETIMES???) i only develop myself like a tool must be sharpened, so that it plays some role, so that it makes a difference. i want that, to make a difference. at times, i need that. i don't care about tomorrow, so long as i do something good today. make sense?
...
that dying-inside feeling, sometimes i think it results because something goes numb within. or the "inspiration" runs dry. i know i can run on empty for miles. i am doing it right now, with this stupid blog entry. but that's the point. that's what it feels like lately. i am grasping at straws, i am listening to music, listening to the news, watching the o-limp-(d)ics, going on facebook, blah blah blah, etc. and it is all going in, but nothing is coming out. something in me is just "unimpressed." again, it's not like i'm unhappy... it's just- there's nothing in me that has anything in particular to say. nothing formed... an empty constipated feeling. straining and straining but nothing comes, because nothing is in me.
... and i don't mean it to sound like i'm apathetic, or that i don't appreciate my life. i am again so happy to have kids, to be with my wife... but...
but.
oh well, chock it up to just another mid-life crisis. i have one roughly once a year, if not more.
or maybe it's just caffeine overdose, or boredom-induced ruminations.
... please ignore this ramble, and get some sleep. as i will try to!
sometimes i feel like i am dying inside. sometimes i feel like i wouldn't mind dying. not that i am sad or anything. far from it. i am so happy to have lived my life, my children are wonderful, my wife is wonderful. it's just... it's hard to describe... sometimes i feel like i've used up all my luck. does that make sense? that there's a truck or a cancer gene with my name on it. it's been held in check all these years, the truck got caught in traffic, the cancer gene somehow was suppressed (probably with overdoses of caffeine). but i sense, i imagine, it is coming.
i try to live my life as though every day were my last (yeah, yeah, i wrote that stupid entry a while ago; reversal of sayings and all that)... that's not to say that i don't waste time, because i do. A LOT OF IT. like right now. but what is wasting time, exactly? i try to be responsible, but to be honest, there are times when i just have to respect my limitations. a part of me likes to get addicted to things, likes to become mindless. and, so long as it's not overly terrible, i just let it do its thing. why not? they say in zen that the best way to control a cow is to allow it to graze free in the pasture. no fences. when you feel something, when you feel nothing, you just let yourself drift and be. that's the theory, anyway. so far it's working. or not.
...
i remember a couple things about when i was a kid. i remember that, no matter where i went, cats always drew to me like a magnet. i mean, they really drew to me. like they would purr and rub themselves against my legs... kinda weird.
i also remember that, if i lay on my back with my belly towards the sky, if i even turned over towards the sky, i would feel this strange disorienting sensation as though i were being pulled upwards, almost like i was going to fall into the empty bowl above...
...
it's frustrating, but i'm becoming a devout structuralist. if only i could have been reincarnated as a rolfer, i wouldn't feel this - religious pain. wouldn't feel so sacrilegious, like i'm committing blasphemy. i am an acupuncturist. energy and all that... but jeez, i'm so much more effective at analyzing problems based on structure and attempting to lengthen myofascial lines...
i've felt this frustration before... there are so many times when i want to help people, when i KNOW i could help people... but i am bound by context. in this context, i am a teacher of a specific subject; in that context, i do acupuncture (not spiritual psychological bs). it's just not proper for me to do certain things for certain people at certain times. it's a matter of- boundaries, respect.
if i didn't have a family, if i didn't have any ties to anyone, and if i weren't so damned self-reserved, sometimes i think i actually could be like kwai chang and bleed myself dry to the world. sometimes i believe i have no self-respect, no sense of self-worth... (SOMETIMES???) i only develop myself like a tool must be sharpened, so that it plays some role, so that it makes a difference. i want that, to make a difference. at times, i need that. i don't care about tomorrow, so long as i do something good today. make sense?
...
that dying-inside feeling, sometimes i think it results because something goes numb within. or the "inspiration" runs dry. i know i can run on empty for miles. i am doing it right now, with this stupid blog entry. but that's the point. that's what it feels like lately. i am grasping at straws, i am listening to music, listening to the news, watching the o-limp-(d)ics, going on facebook, blah blah blah, etc. and it is all going in, but nothing is coming out. something in me is just "unimpressed." again, it's not like i'm unhappy... it's just- there's nothing in me that has anything in particular to say. nothing formed... an empty constipated feeling. straining and straining but nothing comes, because nothing is in me.
... and i don't mean it to sound like i'm apathetic, or that i don't appreciate my life. i am again so happy to have kids, to be with my wife... but...
but.
oh well, chock it up to just another mid-life crisis. i have one roughly once a year, if not more.
or maybe it's just caffeine overdose, or boredom-induced ruminations.
... please ignore this ramble, and get some sleep. as i will try to!
the unfallen
i am the wiser one
for not having gone
i held back at the gate
with a pause and a poise
pretended
"we'll jump on three,"
i said,
firming the resolve of the others
(those lemmings)
and as the numbers rose
to the precipice
their calves tensing,
breath catching,
i put just enough spring
to convince them,
and they were gone,
too late to realize
and much too late to turn back
(suckers).
on the dust of the edge
i played games with myself
anagrams of "hesitate":
"'e ate shit"
or"'e hates it."
but eventually,
quite bored of listening
for survivors,
i left,
the only one
unfallen.
for not having gone
i held back at the gate
with a pause and a poise
pretended
"we'll jump on three,"
i said,
firming the resolve of the others
(those lemmings)
and as the numbers rose
to the precipice
their calves tensing,
breath catching,
i put just enough spring
to convince them,
and they were gone,
too late to realize
and much too late to turn back
(suckers).
on the dust of the edge
i played games with myself
anagrams of "hesitate":
"'e ate shit"
or"'e hates it."
but eventually,
quite bored of listening
for survivors,
i left,
the only one
unfallen.
hanaya san
she has a flower for every occasion
and every price
and many, desperate, come to see her.
but no eyes bloom for her
they remain downturned towards the
process of leafing through wallets
and even as the crumpled bills are offered
like winter's sheddings
not one eyelid petal peels to look at her.
-service with a smile-
and when they are gone
how she refrigerates
prunes carefully
and hides the wilt.
and every price
and many, desperate, come to see her.
but no eyes bloom for her
they remain downturned towards the
process of leafing through wallets
and even as the crumpled bills are offered
like winter's sheddings
not one eyelid petal peels to look at her.
-service with a smile-
and when they are gone
how she refrigerates
prunes carefully
and hides the wilt.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
plan for halloween costume
so this year, i plan on going as "pein." the problem is that pein has the rinneigan eyes, with concentric circles on the pupils. there actually is a place that makes specialized contacts, but as you can imagine, it's pricey. all for halloween!? well, the other issue is that pein has a lot of black piercings, through his nose, earrings on his ears, even some piercings on his chin. i figure i can use something called "spirit gum" to stick black metal (or plastic) on my skin.
verisimilitude
that which appears
like a ghost hovering in the glass
why do you move when i move
how can you give me a name
and a skin to lay claim
to hold this inside
inside?
there were dreams i had
where i floated over nectar rich
fields of other minds
floated with a fluttering disturbance
accompanying
and i could taste their thoughts
rich and insipid
upon a proboscis sampler
and once sated, i carried a
the unfruited desire of the world
supported by sails i could not hide...
and then this.
the puddled ruins
of a storm.
the ring around bathtubs.
the remnants of off'ed skin.
the world has drained away.
the burden of
collecting myself
in a heavy and clumsy bag
after such a dream.
and before myself
to only believe in the seeing
that i am,
and to only see the disbelief
imprisoned in the glass.
for long unstudied moments
it is to wonder
who this is.
like a ghost hovering in the glass
why do you move when i move
how can you give me a name
and a skin to lay claim
to hold this inside
inside?
there were dreams i had
where i floated over nectar rich
fields of other minds
floated with a fluttering disturbance
accompanying
and i could taste their thoughts
rich and insipid
upon a proboscis sampler
and once sated, i carried a
the unfruited desire of the world
supported by sails i could not hide...
and then this.
the puddled ruins
of a storm.
the ring around bathtubs.
the remnants of off'ed skin.
the world has drained away.
the burden of
collecting myself
in a heavy and clumsy bag
after such a dream.
and before myself
to only believe in the seeing
that i am,
and to only see the disbelief
imprisoned in the glass.
for long unstudied moments
it is to wonder
who this is.
scheduled
i'm slowly getting myself organized in preparation for the coming week. i'm going to continue teaching at icaom and supervising at the clinic... i begin uh classes, and my student teaching at aiea intermediate next week... in the pockets of time remaining (including large swaths on the weekends), i am struggling to fit in my acupuncture patients... and, if that's not enough, due to the low quality of care (at least in our opinion) at the afterschool program at the ymca, i'm going to have to pick willow up from school directly on four days of the week, and indirectly on half-day wednesday. that gives me the opportunity to meet with her, do homework with her, at least for the brief hour or so that i can spare... but that's better than nothing at all.
unfortunately, i'm not going to have as much time to meet with aiden. i take him to children's house in the mornings, and he outright says that he misses me (usually that kind of mushy talk he only reserves for lynn). aiden has suddenly encountered some kind of developmental growth spurt. he's only been at children's house for three days this year, and he's already outproduced pretty much the entire previous year in terms of output (paperwork). and he is extremely talkative... he comments on everything, and it's always always interesting to hear the kinds of connections he makes. he has a favorite song on both the "in rainbows" radiohead album and the "louder than bombs" smiths album. for in rainbows, he likes "weird fishes." i think it started when he asked what "weird fishes" were. that night, i brought out the time life book on the sea, and showed him the weird, nightmarish shapes of fishes near the bottom of the sea: anglers, viperfish, etc. you know, the kind with needle teeth. from that point on, he associated the song with that picture of the sea... so today as we were driving into children's house, he commented on the lyrics. the lyrics go: "i hit the bottom and escape, escape" (that, by the way, led to its own interesting discussion, about how one escapes from the bottom of the sea)... so then aiden says, "daddy, i saw the jellyfish at the bottom of the sea. so he has to watch out or else the jellyfish are going to sting his head." i suppose that he saw the jellyfish on one of the pictures of the time life book...
...oh yeah, yesterday, because i was in such a rush, i told aiden i had to drop him off directly, and now walk down into the school with him... at first, he was upset, but then i told him how i really needed his help in this, and that i knew how brave and independent he was... so he was ultimately okay with it. he left the car, guided out by one of the instructors... but at the last minute, he shouted, "daddy wait! i forgot to give you a hug!" so the instructor brought aiden around the front of the car to the driver's side. i opened the car door, leaned out (seat belt still buckled), and he gave me a hug...
i am going to miss aiden. i think the only time i'll get to interact with him is in the early morning, and in the late evenings (when i force him to do his violin lessons... great).
but i know i'm luckier than most.
unfortunately, i'm not going to have as much time to meet with aiden. i take him to children's house in the mornings, and he outright says that he misses me (usually that kind of mushy talk he only reserves for lynn). aiden has suddenly encountered some kind of developmental growth spurt. he's only been at children's house for three days this year, and he's already outproduced pretty much the entire previous year in terms of output (paperwork). and he is extremely talkative... he comments on everything, and it's always always interesting to hear the kinds of connections he makes. he has a favorite song on both the "in rainbows" radiohead album and the "louder than bombs" smiths album. for in rainbows, he likes "weird fishes." i think it started when he asked what "weird fishes" were. that night, i brought out the time life book on the sea, and showed him the weird, nightmarish shapes of fishes near the bottom of the sea: anglers, viperfish, etc. you know, the kind with needle teeth. from that point on, he associated the song with that picture of the sea... so today as we were driving into children's house, he commented on the lyrics. the lyrics go: "i hit the bottom and escape, escape" (that, by the way, led to its own interesting discussion, about how one escapes from the bottom of the sea)... so then aiden says, "daddy, i saw the jellyfish at the bottom of the sea. so he has to watch out or else the jellyfish are going to sting his head." i suppose that he saw the jellyfish on one of the pictures of the time life book...
...oh yeah, yesterday, because i was in such a rush, i told aiden i had to drop him off directly, and now walk down into the school with him... at first, he was upset, but then i told him how i really needed his help in this, and that i knew how brave and independent he was... so he was ultimately okay with it. he left the car, guided out by one of the instructors... but at the last minute, he shouted, "daddy wait! i forgot to give you a hug!" so the instructor brought aiden around the front of the car to the driver's side. i opened the car door, leaned out (seat belt still buckled), and he gave me a hug...
i am going to miss aiden. i think the only time i'll get to interact with him is in the early morning, and in the late evenings (when i force him to do his violin lessons... great).
but i know i'm luckier than most.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
etymology of "ichneumon"
ichneumon
1572, originally a weasel-like animal in Egypt, from Gk. ichneumon, lit. "searcher," perhaps because it hunts crocodile eggs, from ichneuein "hunt for, track," from ichnos "a track," of unknown origin. Used by Aristotle for a species of wasp that hunts spiders.
what does the weasel seek?
1572, originally a weasel-like animal in Egypt, from Gk. ichneumon, lit. "searcher," perhaps because it hunts crocodile eggs, from ichneuein "hunt for, track," from ichnos "a track," of unknown origin. Used by Aristotle for a species of wasp that hunts spiders.
what does the weasel seek?
an aesthetic
this lack i water regularly
and shower with light
that i gathered in diadems
this lack that i speak to
to coax it and comfort
it will give me nothing in return
it will not fill me
with a core of xylum and phloem
and with frozen ripples
capture the time that slips
it will not give me roots,
nor a way to reach the sky
it will sit and grow only in hunger
and hollow me with its numbing weight
it will, it does.
but i, quite contrary
to the sense of the world
know only how to give in
but not give up.
and shower with light
that i gathered in diadems
this lack that i speak to
to coax it and comfort
it will give me nothing in return
it will not fill me
with a core of xylum and phloem
and with frozen ripples
capture the time that slips
it will not give me roots,
nor a way to reach the sky
it will sit and grow only in hunger
and hollow me with its numbing weight
it will, it does.
but i, quite contrary
to the sense of the world
know only how to give in
but not give up.
Monday, August 18, 2008
resist(e)r
in an electrical circuit (like i know anything about electricity, aside from "don't stick a fork in the socket" or "don't touch the metal part of a plug when inserting"), a resistor "resists" the flow of the current (measured in ohms), such that the "downstream" flow of electricity is diminished. great if you wish to control the current, tamp it down, so to speak, to a "manageable level."
i thought of this with regards to a particular sibling (who, oddly enough, i don't think of much, or as much as i should; a matter of distantly desperate concern!). there are certain problems that make it, shall we say, difficult to unconditionally love someone. i do, ultimately... deep down, i do. but the nature of certain problems makes it- well, full of caveats. i find myself holding my breath, when i allow myself to actually feel my relationship with my sibling; more often than not, even this reaction is beneath my consciousness, and i just go about my days stepping over her memory shamelessly... again, it's not that i don't love her, because i really and truly do. but the avoidance of certain issues, it's become- well, rote.
every now and then, i revisit my desensitization to her... i have tried to redeem her in stories. but somehow even in my stories, there is a gravitational pull towards a more cynical (realistic) view of things (funny how realistic almost always implies the downward turn). the dissatisfaction of this, it periodically "re" starts the "rewriting" process...
and that got me to thinking about the resistor. how it tamps things down, controls currents. is that what this issue with my sibling serves within me (or rather, my reaction to this issue)? with ohms, holding back the current of unconditional love and acceptance, reducing it to more manageable levels?
i often wonder about this... how sneaky our survival instincts are, how "smart" we are at protecting ourselves. beneath the radar, at times. we are not allowed to love those we say we love to the full extent that we can, because, built in, there is something within us that knows that such love will destroy us. and so we live, we live this half-life, bound by and maintaining a closed economy... surrounded, rebuffed, recharging towards:
resistor.
re-sister.
a simple question: why can't everything be alright?
i thought of this with regards to a particular sibling (who, oddly enough, i don't think of much, or as much as i should; a matter of distantly desperate concern!). there are certain problems that make it, shall we say, difficult to unconditionally love someone. i do, ultimately... deep down, i do. but the nature of certain problems makes it- well, full of caveats. i find myself holding my breath, when i allow myself to actually feel my relationship with my sibling; more often than not, even this reaction is beneath my consciousness, and i just go about my days stepping over her memory shamelessly... again, it's not that i don't love her, because i really and truly do. but the avoidance of certain issues, it's become- well, rote.
every now and then, i revisit my desensitization to her... i have tried to redeem her in stories. but somehow even in my stories, there is a gravitational pull towards a more cynical (realistic) view of things (funny how realistic almost always implies the downward turn). the dissatisfaction of this, it periodically "re" starts the "rewriting" process...
and that got me to thinking about the resistor. how it tamps things down, controls currents. is that what this issue with my sibling serves within me (or rather, my reaction to this issue)? with ohms, holding back the current of unconditional love and acceptance, reducing it to more manageable levels?
i often wonder about this... how sneaky our survival instincts are, how "smart" we are at protecting ourselves. beneath the radar, at times. we are not allowed to love those we say we love to the full extent that we can, because, built in, there is something within us that knows that such love will destroy us. and so we live, we live this half-life, bound by and maintaining a closed economy... surrounded, rebuffed, recharging towards:
resistor.
re-sister.
a simple question: why can't everything be alright?
cool trailer- "the watchmen"
don't know if y'all have ever read the classic "watchmen" graphic novel. but the movie's coming... looks awesome.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
reunion
last night, i met with kendall, an old friend whom i hadn't seen in about twenty years. he is perhaps my oldest friend. i knew him when i was in the first grade over at mililani uka. he lived on my block, so every now and then, i would head over to his house to play with cars and stuff. by the end of the third grade, he moved away to town. apparently, he went to lunalilo for a couple of months, and then started the fourth grade over at st. patrick's school. he eventually went to mid-pac for high school, and that was when i kind of lost touch with him. the last time we met, we both ran at some track meet. he naturally blew me away (i was, and am, a pretty crappy runner). apparently, after i lost touch, he went to moanalua for the last two years of high school...
i kept thinking, as i listened to his story, that it must have been hard. some people are lucky enough to stay in one place, establish friendships, keep them... but other people keep moving, keep having to start all over from scratch. i often wonder what it must do to a person, particularly during formative years (high school included). a lot of my friends underwent that. myself, i was one of the lucky few who lingered over at mililani. i felt really sorry for myself, in the sense that so many of my friends went away... but looking at it from the perspective of someone who actually moved away, well, i had it really easy.
it felt disorienting but natural at the same time to talk to kendall. he was a lot taller (a head taller at least), and his hair color had changed. and it was hard to see the same mannerisms i had remembered of him; he is, after all, a "grown up" now... but there was a patience and kindness about him that made it easy to communicate with him. ultimately, we talked about a lot of stuff, some pretty personal. strange, to share some details after such a long gap of correspondence. but it felt- natural.
kendall will be moving to portland at the end of this month. it was actually fortuitous that i found him on facebook when i did, or i would have missed this opportunity to meet him face to face... things haven't been easy for him. i felt ashamed of myself at times, ashamed of my complacency, my little complaints. i am very fortunate. i'm married to a great person, i have two great kids... i wish kendall (and other friends) the same, but ultimately, everyone has their own path to walk, everyone has to work out their own problems/complexities... it makes little sense, but... i still wish kendall (and others) the best, the happiness that is his due.
i feel, i don't know, stronger, after having met kendall again. it's like the river of life that i am in (or i am) has just met with a long forgotten tributary, and together, we are all flowing towards our respective oceanic destiny... or something like that.
i kept thinking, as i listened to his story, that it must have been hard. some people are lucky enough to stay in one place, establish friendships, keep them... but other people keep moving, keep having to start all over from scratch. i often wonder what it must do to a person, particularly during formative years (high school included). a lot of my friends underwent that. myself, i was one of the lucky few who lingered over at mililani. i felt really sorry for myself, in the sense that so many of my friends went away... but looking at it from the perspective of someone who actually moved away, well, i had it really easy.
it felt disorienting but natural at the same time to talk to kendall. he was a lot taller (a head taller at least), and his hair color had changed. and it was hard to see the same mannerisms i had remembered of him; he is, after all, a "grown up" now... but there was a patience and kindness about him that made it easy to communicate with him. ultimately, we talked about a lot of stuff, some pretty personal. strange, to share some details after such a long gap of correspondence. but it felt- natural.
kendall will be moving to portland at the end of this month. it was actually fortuitous that i found him on facebook when i did, or i would have missed this opportunity to meet him face to face... things haven't been easy for him. i felt ashamed of myself at times, ashamed of my complacency, my little complaints. i am very fortunate. i'm married to a great person, i have two great kids... i wish kendall (and other friends) the same, but ultimately, everyone has their own path to walk, everyone has to work out their own problems/complexities... it makes little sense, but... i still wish kendall (and others) the best, the happiness that is his due.
i feel, i don't know, stronger, after having met kendall again. it's like the river of life that i am in (or i am) has just met with a long forgotten tributary, and together, we are all flowing towards our respective oceanic destiny... or something like that.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
nothing and no one
the september daikon festival is coming up over at the honbushin. this year, as part of my taiji demonstration, i'm forcefully volunteering my class to perform the first form in front of a live (as opposed to what? dead?) audience. i'm going to be performing with them, calling out the movements. there is one awkward part of the form where everyone turns around. usually in class, at that point, i run over to the back of the room so everyone can see me (today, it was more like limping). but i can't do that at the performance. so i opted to just call out all the movements, and hopefully, that will be enough.
i also want to do the sword form, though i need to polish up on it, particularly with my recent bum knee.
i've been trying to systematize the ideal taiji training regimen. not like i'm going to apply it, particularly on the senior class, because i don't know if they'd be interested in it. most people like to do forms, which is fine. personally, i'd like to get at the heart of taiji, become really good at it, so that i can understand (thoroughly) issues like rooting and fajin. and maybe, while i'm at it, kong jin. confirm if it really exists.
a lot of the training should be pretty static. begin with zhang zhuang, or pile standing. postural training solo. and then, adding vectors: for example, practicing ward off posture against an immovable object, like a wall. or practicing roll back while pulling on a large rope attached to a wall. then, testing posture with a partner; having a partner apply pressure to various parts of your body (by pressure, i don't mean swinging a bat or even punching; just gradual steady pressure to test "structure") while you maintain a stance.
that's the beginning stuff. developing a core, an "infrastructure." after that, i'd work on more dynamic aspects: transitions, for instance. performing forms smoothly. maintaining core while in movement. applications of the movements...
...more nonsense on my to do list.
***
this evening, i will meet, face to face, kendall. he was my friend from like the first or second grade. he used to live down the hill from me. i lived in a culdesac at the corner of this "block." if i rode my bike down the right (from my culdesac), i'd plummet down this sharp hill (at least it seemed sharp) on holaniku street, and eventually reach his house.
i remember one day when it was raining pretty hard, the two of us playing with some hot wheels cars on some plastic runways and ramps... i THINK it was the first time i had ever played with him (outside of school), AND the first time i actually played with a "friend" period.
anyway, by the third grade, he moved away, moved to town. i know he went to st. patrick's, maybe some other schools out in town. but we managed to keep in touch, largely due to his efforts. i would sleep over at his house (he lived in a variety of condos, from the "admiral?" to that big one with the brown railings on kinau...). we would venture across town, i remember us going to "froggies" back when it was still around on the corner of king and (?). weird, but i have these strong memories of creeping through the adult section aisle, seeing pictures of hairy women with large breasts, and smelling the scent of old paper... i have this warped association now of all of those things: the late 70's, old paper smell, large breasts. no wonder i used to be a bookworm.
... it's a pattern for me. friends leaving. but much as it was difficult for me, i always sensed that it was much more for him. after all, i never moved away...
well, in any case, it will be neat to see him again, after 20 years or so...
[facebook is to blame!]
i also want to do the sword form, though i need to polish up on it, particularly with my recent bum knee.
i've been trying to systematize the ideal taiji training regimen. not like i'm going to apply it, particularly on the senior class, because i don't know if they'd be interested in it. most people like to do forms, which is fine. personally, i'd like to get at the heart of taiji, become really good at it, so that i can understand (thoroughly) issues like rooting and fajin. and maybe, while i'm at it, kong jin. confirm if it really exists.
a lot of the training should be pretty static. begin with zhang zhuang, or pile standing. postural training solo. and then, adding vectors: for example, practicing ward off posture against an immovable object, like a wall. or practicing roll back while pulling on a large rope attached to a wall. then, testing posture with a partner; having a partner apply pressure to various parts of your body (by pressure, i don't mean swinging a bat or even punching; just gradual steady pressure to test "structure") while you maintain a stance.
that's the beginning stuff. developing a core, an "infrastructure." after that, i'd work on more dynamic aspects: transitions, for instance. performing forms smoothly. maintaining core while in movement. applications of the movements...
...more nonsense on my to do list.
***
this evening, i will meet, face to face, kendall. he was my friend from like the first or second grade. he used to live down the hill from me. i lived in a culdesac at the corner of this "block." if i rode my bike down the right (from my culdesac), i'd plummet down this sharp hill (at least it seemed sharp) on holaniku street, and eventually reach his house.
i remember one day when it was raining pretty hard, the two of us playing with some hot wheels cars on some plastic runways and ramps... i THINK it was the first time i had ever played with him (outside of school), AND the first time i actually played with a "friend" period.
anyway, by the third grade, he moved away, moved to town. i know he went to st. patrick's, maybe some other schools out in town. but we managed to keep in touch, largely due to his efforts. i would sleep over at his house (he lived in a variety of condos, from the "admiral?" to that big one with the brown railings on kinau...). we would venture across town, i remember us going to "froggies" back when it was still around on the corner of king and (?). weird, but i have these strong memories of creeping through the adult section aisle, seeing pictures of hairy women with large breasts, and smelling the scent of old paper... i have this warped association now of all of those things: the late 70's, old paper smell, large breasts. no wonder i used to be a bookworm.
... it's a pattern for me. friends leaving. but much as it was difficult for me, i always sensed that it was much more for him. after all, i never moved away...
well, in any case, it will be neat to see him again, after 20 years or so...
[facebook is to blame!]
congrats to dana and walter
my cousin dana and her husband walter just had a baby this morning. august 16th. will look it up. it's a girl. don't know what the weight was, or what the name will be... congrats!
Friday, August 15, 2008
on suffering
this is the truth about suffering:
"the way to be liberated from suffering is to be quickly absorbed into it."
-bokuo roshi, abbot of tenryuji temple
"the way to be liberated from suffering is to be quickly absorbed into it."
-bokuo roshi, abbot of tenryuji temple
parappa the rapper
this brings back memories... parappa the rapper (1) was such a fun game. they don't make 'em like this any more (or at least i don't play new games).
Thursday, August 14, 2008
we eat our young
the eyes are dark
with pupils as all encompassing
as the black and starless sky
and, oh, how they are hungry
they belong to us
or the us we will become:
the huddled masses in
the ice caves on
the far side of pluto,
who, clutching too hard with
shivering brittle hands,
cast shadows across shadows
registering nothing
with these black and starving eyes.
young ones,
be careful.
it is in your nature to shine
burning off the excesses of the
big bang mystery you're propelled
expelled from.
have a care where you shine
and where your light falls.
for their eyes are hungry
and would be more than happy
to relieve you of your dazzling burden
more than happy to swallow you whole
and afterglow from within for but a moment
like bloated fluorescent bottom-feeding fish.
we, they, we
eat our young.
with pupils as all encompassing
as the black and starless sky
and, oh, how they are hungry
they belong to us
or the us we will become:
the huddled masses in
the ice caves on
the far side of pluto,
who, clutching too hard with
shivering brittle hands,
cast shadows across shadows
registering nothing
with these black and starving eyes.
young ones,
be careful.
it is in your nature to shine
burning off the excesses of the
big bang mystery you're propelled
expelled from.
have a care where you shine
and where your light falls.
for their eyes are hungry
and would be more than happy
to relieve you of your dazzling burden
more than happy to swallow you whole
and afterglow from within for but a moment
like bloated fluorescent bottom-feeding fish.
we, they, we
eat our young.
etymological convergences and coincidences: "parent"
ever wondered what your face looked like before your parents were born? (sorry, zen reference) ... no, ever wondered what "parent" means? or rather, where the word "parent" comes from? read below. note the root as being "pare", meaning "to bring forth," and also "parer", meaning "to make ready." extending from "pare," we get all kinds of interesting associations, first of all, to "paring" (trimming by cutting close) which, i often think, is part of parenting, as well as "sparring" or "parrying."
parent
1185, from O.Fr. parent (11c.), from L. parentem (nom. parens) "father or mother, ancestor," noun use of prp. of parere "bring forth, give birth to, produce," from PIE base *per- "to bring forth" (see pare). Began to replace native elder after c.1500. The verb is attested from 1663. The verbal noun parenting is first recorded 1959 (earlier term had been parentcraft, 1930).
pare
"to trim by cutting close," c.1320, from O.Fr. parer "arrange, prepare, trim," from L. parare "make ready," related to parere "produce, bring forth, give birth to," from PIE base *per- "to bring forward, bring forth" (cf. Lith. pariu "to brood," Gk. poris "calf, bull," O.H.G. farro, Ger. Farre "bullock," O.E. fearr "bull," Skt. prthukah "child, calf, young of an animal," Czech spratek "brat, urchin, premature calf"). Generalized meaning "to reduce something little by little" is from 1530.
parry (v.)
1634, from Fr. parez! (which commonly would have been heard in fencing lessons), imper. of parer "ward off," from It. parare "to ward or defend a blow," from L. parare "make ready, prepare" (see pare). Non-fencing use is from 1718.
spar (v)
"to box," c.1400, "to strike or thrust," perhaps from M.Fr. esparer "to kick," from It. sparare "to fling," from L. ex- + parare "to ward off, parry" (see pare). Used in 17c. in ref. to preliminary actions in a cock fight; fig. sense of "to dispute, bandy with words" is from 1698. Extension to humans, with meaning "to engage in or practice boxing" is attested from 1755.
parent
1185, from O.Fr. parent (11c.), from L. parentem (nom. parens) "father or mother, ancestor," noun use of prp. of parere "bring forth, give birth to, produce," from PIE base *per- "to bring forth" (see pare). Began to replace native elder after c.1500. The verb is attested from 1663. The verbal noun parenting is first recorded 1959 (earlier term had been parentcraft, 1930).
pare
"to trim by cutting close," c.1320, from O.Fr. parer "arrange, prepare, trim," from L. parare "make ready," related to parere "produce, bring forth, give birth to," from PIE base *per- "to bring forward, bring forth" (cf. Lith. pariu "to brood," Gk. poris "calf, bull," O.H.G. farro, Ger. Farre "bullock," O.E. fearr "bull," Skt. prthukah "child, calf, young of an animal," Czech spratek "brat, urchin, premature calf"). Generalized meaning "to reduce something little by little" is from 1530.
parry (v.)
1634, from Fr. parez! (which commonly would have been heard in fencing lessons), imper. of parer "ward off," from It. parare "to ward or defend a blow," from L. parare "make ready, prepare" (see pare). Non-fencing use is from 1718.
spar (v)
"to box," c.1400, "to strike or thrust," perhaps from M.Fr. esparer "to kick," from It. sparare "to fling," from L. ex- + parare "to ward off, parry" (see pare). Used in 17c. in ref. to preliminary actions in a cock fight; fig. sense of "to dispute, bandy with words" is from 1698. Extension to humans, with meaning "to engage in or practice boxing" is attested from 1755.
convergence phenomenon
i'm not a biology major or even particularly scientific, so forgive me. i recall that there was a theory that "cells" (basic units of life) spontaneously formed when molecules with hydrophilic (water-loving) and hydrophobic (water-hating) ends reacted to an aqueous medium. the hydrophobic ends of all the molecules naturally pushed "away" from the water, and thus pushed the molecules all towards each other... eventually the molecules aggregated, and further organized into "double bags" of cell membranes, etc.
oddly enough, a lot of my old friends have been converging, aggregating, and i can't help but wonder why this is so. i mean, it could just be an illusion... some friends, apparently, have been on facebook for a while now, and it could be just that i'm the last (or one of the last) to join the party. the sudden re-emergence of "faces" from out of the woodwork can seem like "wow, everyone's suddenly waking up." but it seems like more than this. brian, for example, was actively looking for me and my old intermediate/high school group...
is everyone reacting to something in the environment? are we converging due to a "spontaneous turning away/turning towards" when confronting some subtle global signal, or perhaps is it an age thing, something in our genes, like "planned obsolescence" only more mild?
in any case, it's nice.
in elementary school, we did an experiment. we got a carton of milk, and just let it sit for days and days on end. we would view the "milk" as it rotted, as it turned into a jungle of mold and fungus and cottage cheesy stink. and i became acutely aware of time. and how time out of sight and out of mind still moved and changed things... i became aware of the strange way dust would collect in a room when no one occupied it, how it would collect in thick sheets... (weird, isn't it? it's not like people actively dust the rooms they live in... it's almost as though "something" senses no one's there, and starts laying down the sheets) i became aware of the way weeds would grow from neglect.
not that rot or dust or weeds makes me think of my friends, but... it's interesting to discover the way time continues on, that people have been living vibrant and often far more significant lives "behind my back" or "while i slept."
oddly enough, a lot of my old friends have been converging, aggregating, and i can't help but wonder why this is so. i mean, it could just be an illusion... some friends, apparently, have been on facebook for a while now, and it could be just that i'm the last (or one of the last) to join the party. the sudden re-emergence of "faces" from out of the woodwork can seem like "wow, everyone's suddenly waking up." but it seems like more than this. brian, for example, was actively looking for me and my old intermediate/high school group...
is everyone reacting to something in the environment? are we converging due to a "spontaneous turning away/turning towards" when confronting some subtle global signal, or perhaps is it an age thing, something in our genes, like "planned obsolescence" only more mild?
in any case, it's nice.
in elementary school, we did an experiment. we got a carton of milk, and just let it sit for days and days on end. we would view the "milk" as it rotted, as it turned into a jungle of mold and fungus and cottage cheesy stink. and i became acutely aware of time. and how time out of sight and out of mind still moved and changed things... i became aware of the strange way dust would collect in a room when no one occupied it, how it would collect in thick sheets... (weird, isn't it? it's not like people actively dust the rooms they live in... it's almost as though "something" senses no one's there, and starts laying down the sheets) i became aware of the way weeds would grow from neglect.
not that rot or dust or weeds makes me think of my friends, but... it's interesting to discover the way time continues on, that people have been living vibrant and often far more significant lives "behind my back" or "while i slept."
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
etymology of "hamlet"
know this?
hamlet
c.1330, from O.Fr. hamelet, dim. of hamel "village," itself a dim. of ham "village," from Frank. *haim (see home). Especially a village without a church.
why is this significant to me? at one point, i used "hamlet" as a device to connote the paralysis of a protagonist when confronting the dilemma of falling in love and remaining detached (which, in a very abstract way, is the dilemma of hamlet; to "be" [here] or "not to be" [anywhere]).
but hamlet (as "a village without a church") can also be taken to represent "mililani" or "marsilani"; a suburban town without a real sense of itself.
hamlet
c.1330, from O.Fr. hamelet, dim. of hamel "village," itself a dim. of ham "village," from Frank. *haim (see home). Especially a village without a church.
why is this significant to me? at one point, i used "hamlet" as a device to connote the paralysis of a protagonist when confronting the dilemma of falling in love and remaining detached (which, in a very abstract way, is the dilemma of hamlet; to "be" [here] or "not to be" [anywhere]).
but hamlet (as "a village without a church") can also be taken to represent "mililani" or "marsilani"; a suburban town without a real sense of itself.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
ambiguous phase
sorry i haven't been posting much lately. i've been in a strange funk. i had to struggle to keep "on track" with the sped program, because technically, i am still an unclassified grad student (won't be formally enrolled until spring). this fall (which begins in a week and a half or so) i will be student teaching! maybe it worked out for the best, because in the midst of my "pleadings" to continue with the program, my current teacher (for classroom management) said she would be happy to be my mentor if they'd allow me. now that the sped department's relented, i'm going to take her up on her offer. this is great, because i consider her to be a truly dedicated and compassionate teacher. i am already brainstorming a variety of ideas for classes; i'm supposed to be teaching 7th/8th grade science to the kids (not my "cup of tea"), mainly stuff on "measurement" and "scientific process." here's one idea: create a "musical instrument" by pouring specific measured amounts of water into a set of glasses. this initially will be a simple exercise in measurement of volume (remember, these are sped kids), but it will extend into topics of waves (sound waves: pitch, amplitude; relating the "length" of vibratable glass to the pitch, etc.)... i could have the students make "observations" of these cups, relating the pitch to the amount of water; then, the students could make hypotheses, like, what would be the pitch if we filled up a glass this much, etc. after hypotheses formation, students would research waves, sound waves, etc. to get a better understanding. and then we could formulate an experiment to test our hypothesis... simple, but i think the whole idea of working with water, and creating an "instrument" would be appealing to the kids... also, we could extend (in behaviorist terms, "generalize") the understanding to other musical instruments, like a violin, or guitar, or even drums (all of which i have access to) to show that in all instruments, the pitch is determined by the "size/length" of the vibratable medium... we could even extend the understanding of sound waves to waves in general; i have a resource who works for noaa, who could be invaluable in talking about ocean waves. maybe we could even plan a field trip over to some wave measurement facility to talk about different aspects of ocean waves... we could also extend our experiment to the effects of evaporation (by leaving the "glass instrument" out); talk about measuring "rates." the ideas are endless.
of course, it's always fun to incorporate "gimicky" science, like the oobleck idea. but all demonstrations should be purposeful, not just "cool..."
but again, i'm in an ambiguous phase, largely because i am trying to assimilate and organize a lot of info, try to routinize things into my life. things are about to get really hairy... i've been getting somewhat into trouble with icaom, because i haven't been able to commit to doing the supervising for the wednesday clinic shift (because i wasn't sure what my student teaching schedule was going to be like). but since my mentor is going to be ms. lim, and because she is pretty flexible, looks like i could do wednesdays...
speaking of clinic: i've thought of this before, but i'm more committed to it now: writing an explicit clinic manual, so the student interns under me would have a better sense of how i look at things. a lot of "structural work," also kiiko matsumoto style stuff. if i can make this explicit, then perhaps there won't be so much confusion on the part of the interns, who are usually locked into tcm style of thinking.
...people have been giving me a lot of new things to think about. when i mentioned to a patient that i wanted to develop a more "energetic" understanding of healing/acupuncture, i was turned onto chozenji (this really really famous temple in kalihi valley, which combined zen training with martial arts: kendo, archery, etc.). and this book by omori sogen, on the rinzai zen training method. i am working through it now. i'm ashamed to say that i haven't been meditating for a while now; that time at kannonji with shodo san was wasted. hopefully with the help of this text, i will be able to make zazen a more consistent and meaningful part of my life...
one thing that was interesting about this book: the idea of the word "sit." of course omori sogen was referring to it primarily from a japanese understanding, but it's relevant in english as well. when we talk about "sitting," there's a connotation of balance, of properness. think about the question: "does that sit well with you?" omori discussed this because zazen is meditating while sitting in a specific posture. omori mentions that people nowadays think too flippantly about this matter, imagining that zen can apply to any activity. while he says that, ultimately, at high levels of understanding, this can be true, there is something specifically ideal about sitting meditation that makes it conducive to bringing about the proper state of mind (samadhi, sammai in japanese)...
i also hope to receive another book from this afternoon's patient, one written by her former acupuncturist called "the needle and the sword." also, oddly enough, combining martial arts with something else, this time with acupuncture. promises to be interesting reading...
frankly, i am overwhelmed with new ideas at this point. consolidation, organization has never been my strong point, so i'm in for more ... "disorganization."
...
funny... aiden came to my uh class yesterday. i wanted him to demonstrate his bow grip as part of my behavioral modification project. but of course the environment of the class proved to be too much of a distraction. funny thing, there is this "cute" girl named jamie in my class. as i was ushering aiden out of the class, aiden stopped in front of her, and said "whassyoname?" ... jeez, he's only four, and he's such a playah.
of course, it's always fun to incorporate "gimicky" science, like the oobleck idea. but all demonstrations should be purposeful, not just "cool..."
but again, i'm in an ambiguous phase, largely because i am trying to assimilate and organize a lot of info, try to routinize things into my life. things are about to get really hairy... i've been getting somewhat into trouble with icaom, because i haven't been able to commit to doing the supervising for the wednesday clinic shift (because i wasn't sure what my student teaching schedule was going to be like). but since my mentor is going to be ms. lim, and because she is pretty flexible, looks like i could do wednesdays...
speaking of clinic: i've thought of this before, but i'm more committed to it now: writing an explicit clinic manual, so the student interns under me would have a better sense of how i look at things. a lot of "structural work," also kiiko matsumoto style stuff. if i can make this explicit, then perhaps there won't be so much confusion on the part of the interns, who are usually locked into tcm style of thinking.
...people have been giving me a lot of new things to think about. when i mentioned to a patient that i wanted to develop a more "energetic" understanding of healing/acupuncture, i was turned onto chozenji (this really really famous temple in kalihi valley, which combined zen training with martial arts: kendo, archery, etc.). and this book by omori sogen, on the rinzai zen training method. i am working through it now. i'm ashamed to say that i haven't been meditating for a while now; that time at kannonji with shodo san was wasted. hopefully with the help of this text, i will be able to make zazen a more consistent and meaningful part of my life...
one thing that was interesting about this book: the idea of the word "sit." of course omori sogen was referring to it primarily from a japanese understanding, but it's relevant in english as well. when we talk about "sitting," there's a connotation of balance, of properness. think about the question: "does that sit well with you?" omori discussed this because zazen is meditating while sitting in a specific posture. omori mentions that people nowadays think too flippantly about this matter, imagining that zen can apply to any activity. while he says that, ultimately, at high levels of understanding, this can be true, there is something specifically ideal about sitting meditation that makes it conducive to bringing about the proper state of mind (samadhi, sammai in japanese)...
i also hope to receive another book from this afternoon's patient, one written by her former acupuncturist called "the needle and the sword." also, oddly enough, combining martial arts with something else, this time with acupuncture. promises to be interesting reading...
frankly, i am overwhelmed with new ideas at this point. consolidation, organization has never been my strong point, so i'm in for more ... "disorganization."
...
funny... aiden came to my uh class yesterday. i wanted him to demonstrate his bow grip as part of my behavioral modification project. but of course the environment of the class proved to be too much of a distraction. funny thing, there is this "cute" girl named jamie in my class. as i was ushering aiden out of the class, aiden stopped in front of her, and said "whassyoname?" ... jeez, he's only four, and he's such a playah.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Sunday, August 10, 2008
eight ten eight
apologies for the previous post. i was tired... with all this eight eight eight hooplah, i was thinking too hard about something to write. anyway, i attended a wedding on 8/8/8. can't tell you how hard it was to get there on a friday, with all this odd traffic congesting the waipio area, and with me and my bad knee having to race around to pick up the favors and put them on the tables...
now it is eight ten o eight. it happens to be our 6th wedding anniversary, lynn and i... it's hard to believe at times. time is strange. some things seem so long ago, others, only yesterday. there's this objective time that we all seem to believe in and rely upon, but it's not time as it is experienced. time is like a notepad, and certain things, events, leave deeper and clearer impressions (tears even) than others, and it is these that we remember. even when new pages turn, those impressions are left like palimpsests,
now it is eight ten o eight. it happens to be our 6th wedding anniversary, lynn and i... it's hard to believe at times. time is strange. some things seem so long ago, others, only yesterday. there's this objective time that we all seem to believe in and rely upon, but it's not time as it is experienced. time is like a notepad, and certain things, events, leave deeper and clearer impressions (tears even) than others, and it is these that we remember. even when new pages turn, those impressions are left like palimpsests,
Saturday, August 9, 2008
ate ate ate
i'm the ouroborus
(r.o., bore us!)
tooth to tail
i swallow and follow
because, you see:
i left something behind
i left something behind
so i move to the head
of the class
shoving my eyes
up my ass
i left something behind
i left something behind
i am
like strangers in
the same skin
if i molt:
will i find who i am
or will my hollow be
what is essential me
and will it be the meal
that allows me to feel
again?
the refuse of my past
is a feast for my hunger
if i swallow it whole
will it make me feel younger?
will it make me feel older?
will it make me feel...
[interrupted]
(r.o., bore us!)
tooth to tail
i swallow and follow
because, you see:
i left something behind
i left something behind
so i move to the head
of the class
shoving my eyes
up my ass
i left something behind
i left something behind
i am
like strangers in
the same skin
if i molt:
will i find who i am
or will my hollow be
what is essential me
and will it be the meal
that allows me to feel
again?
the refuse of my past
is a feast for my hunger
if i swallow it whole
will it make me feel younger?
will it make me feel older?
will it make me feel...
[interrupted]
Friday, August 8, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
cardiomegaly
4:00 am, this is when i wake up spontaneously, have been for the past few days now. 3-5 am is supposed to be the time of the lungs, and i guess in agrarian societies, it'd be appropriate for someone to get up at this time, inhale their first drought of the new day's air... but for me, now, it seems inappropriate... maybe even pathological.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
woefully
i'm the practice horse
and i hold the kids each in turn
upon my saddle shins
my hands they hold
the grasping reins
i cue the secret words
to make me go
"giddyup" makes me start
and "woe" will bring me to
a screeching halt.
a "yee-haw" done with passion
will bring you
a sudden twelve inches
closer to the ceiling.
but they are growing heavy
in my hands
by the second it seems
and i am growing heavy too
and pretty soon
our nightly ride
before the goodbye goodnight
will be "closed for repairs
indefinitely."
the laugh and the scream
i hear it like the
old man i'll be
straining for its sound
long after it's gone.
time like this ride
so fast, and much as they
cry "giddyup" or "yeehaw"
the only word
never stopped for
is "woe."
and i hold the kids each in turn
upon my saddle shins
my hands they hold
the grasping reins
i cue the secret words
to make me go
"giddyup" makes me start
and "woe" will bring me to
a screeching halt.
a "yee-haw" done with passion
will bring you
a sudden twelve inches
closer to the ceiling.
but they are growing heavy
in my hands
by the second it seems
and i am growing heavy too
and pretty soon
our nightly ride
before the goodbye goodnight
will be "closed for repairs
indefinitely."
the laugh and the scream
i hear it like the
old man i'll be
straining for its sound
long after it's gone.
time like this ride
so fast, and much as they
cry "giddyup" or "yeehaw"
the only word
never stopped for
is "woe."
tired and dirt-e
... just got home a little while ago. i had to work on someone... i've been applying anatomy trains concepts (at least the basics), allowing it to inform my "routine." it's much more vigorous work, but at least it seems to have a purpose... moving fascia... adjusting for postural compensations...
on the way back, i kept singing decemberists' "16 military wives" and the song following, "engine driver." i really like both songs, but as i am really beginning to fall for the second... here are some lyrics:
"i'm an engine dri-ver
on a long run, on a long run
would i would beside her
she's a long one, such a long one...
and if you don't love me let me go.
and if you don't love me let me go.
...
i am a writer, a writer of fiction
i am the heart that you call home
i've written pages upon pages
trying to rid you from my bones, my bones..."
***
volunteered for a few hours at aiea intermediate, under my teacher, loan lim. she assessed the writing of her students today, and i got to score their work. they're all good kids, and i can see in some a rich creativity that is masked by poor grammar and abominable spelling... in my head, my dreamy idealistic head, i've been concocting methodologies to improve the "basics" beneath literacy and "writing"... i want to make things multisensorial, etc... but time? resources? we'll see if my ideals are realized, or if, like most things, they just burn me further into the ground.
***
a sadness... i don't get to be with lynn or the kids as often as i'd like... the yard is filling once again with the 5 o'clock shadow of weeds... neglect is an inevitable part of life... attention draws to each pressing problem, only to find that the dam is half-eaten away right behind my back...
gas and electricity and everything is getting more and more expensive. there's a panic in the air... i'm just running the same way i've done for years, inefficient and as "wasteful as an artist," but a reckoning's a coming, i'm sure... and where will my ideals be then?
***
ghosts are slowly drawing to me... or i am haunting them. facebook is a corpse magnet, a revenant's target... fascinating how the undead (like me) can keep going, even out of sight, out of mind... beautiful, rotting monsters, us all.
on the way back, i kept singing decemberists' "16 military wives" and the song following, "engine driver." i really like both songs, but as i am really beginning to fall for the second... here are some lyrics:
"i'm an engine dri-ver
on a long run, on a long run
would i would beside her
she's a long one, such a long one...
and if you don't love me let me go.
and if you don't love me let me go.
...
i am a writer, a writer of fiction
i am the heart that you call home
i've written pages upon pages
trying to rid you from my bones, my bones..."
***
volunteered for a few hours at aiea intermediate, under my teacher, loan lim. she assessed the writing of her students today, and i got to score their work. they're all good kids, and i can see in some a rich creativity that is masked by poor grammar and abominable spelling... in my head, my dreamy idealistic head, i've been concocting methodologies to improve the "basics" beneath literacy and "writing"... i want to make things multisensorial, etc... but time? resources? we'll see if my ideals are realized, or if, like most things, they just burn me further into the ground.
***
a sadness... i don't get to be with lynn or the kids as often as i'd like... the yard is filling once again with the 5 o'clock shadow of weeds... neglect is an inevitable part of life... attention draws to each pressing problem, only to find that the dam is half-eaten away right behind my back...
gas and electricity and everything is getting more and more expensive. there's a panic in the air... i'm just running the same way i've done for years, inefficient and as "wasteful as an artist," but a reckoning's a coming, i'm sure... and where will my ideals be then?
***
ghosts are slowly drawing to me... or i am haunting them. facebook is a corpse magnet, a revenant's target... fascinating how the undead (like me) can keep going, even out of sight, out of mind... beautiful, rotting monsters, us all.
Monday, August 4, 2008
decision to be compassionate
i've been thinking a lot about misperceiving children. if you're a parent (and even if you aren't), i'm sure you encounter situations where you, say, go to a park, and see other children, either with or without their parents... and, whether you're aware of it or not, whether you want to or not, you start judging those kids, measuring them against the yardstick of your own kids, or your idea of how kids should be. i know i'm guilty of this.
but since i'm studying special education, i've come to the realization that a lot of the kids that i'd label as "bad" or "wild" are the same kids i'll be seeing in the classroom context; in the latter environment, the labels will be different: ebd (emotional behavioral disorder) or adhd (attention deficient hyperactivity disorder) or autistic or whatever. and i won't have the luxury to blithely pass judgments on those children; i'll have to interact with them, motivate them, yes, in a certain sense, love them...
today, when i went to the "beautiful park" (nuuanu valley park) with the kids, there was a young boy (4 years old) whom i previously may have written off as adhd, or mildly ebd. in most situations, i'd politely keep willow and aiden away from the boy. but today, i just decided to examine the boy, and my feelings; also, willow's and aiden's interactions with him. willow and aiden are both naturally gregarious (very unlike me), and in addition to this, i think willow in particular is sensitive to "differences." in a way, i think willow cues into me, to how i react to the behavior of people. i responded to the boy in a polite way; he seemed to want to interact with me. eventually, i got him laughing (as i pushed him and willow and aiden on the swings), and later, both his older sister and he were drawing with chalk on the basketball courts next to willow and aiden, excitedly sharing and expressing themselves... i was proud of willow and aiden (and had developed a new appreciation for the boy, someone whom i'd have previously written off); they are naturally friendly, sharing, but not blindly so.
they say love is blind.
but compassionate is not. if anything, it is extremely clear-sighted. you look at people, look through your judgments of them, and see what is needed. and you respond to that need...
funny. i work on a lot of different people all the time. i never need to think about judging them, etc. but then again, i'm in a somewhat clear context, providing a specific, more or less physical service. i don't have to "push" people to do things they don't understand... if i become a teacher, it will be different... i must be extremely clear-sighted and compassionate...
but since i'm studying special education, i've come to the realization that a lot of the kids that i'd label as "bad" or "wild" are the same kids i'll be seeing in the classroom context; in the latter environment, the labels will be different: ebd (emotional behavioral disorder) or adhd (attention deficient hyperactivity disorder) or autistic or whatever. and i won't have the luxury to blithely pass judgments on those children; i'll have to interact with them, motivate them, yes, in a certain sense, love them...
today, when i went to the "beautiful park" (nuuanu valley park) with the kids, there was a young boy (4 years old) whom i previously may have written off as adhd, or mildly ebd. in most situations, i'd politely keep willow and aiden away from the boy. but today, i just decided to examine the boy, and my feelings; also, willow's and aiden's interactions with him. willow and aiden are both naturally gregarious (very unlike me), and in addition to this, i think willow in particular is sensitive to "differences." in a way, i think willow cues into me, to how i react to the behavior of people. i responded to the boy in a polite way; he seemed to want to interact with me. eventually, i got him laughing (as i pushed him and willow and aiden on the swings), and later, both his older sister and he were drawing with chalk on the basketball courts next to willow and aiden, excitedly sharing and expressing themselves... i was proud of willow and aiden (and had developed a new appreciation for the boy, someone whom i'd have previously written off); they are naturally friendly, sharing, but not blindly so.
they say love is blind.
but compassionate is not. if anything, it is extremely clear-sighted. you look at people, look through your judgments of them, and see what is needed. and you respond to that need...
funny. i work on a lot of different people all the time. i never need to think about judging them, etc. but then again, i'm in a somewhat clear context, providing a specific, more or less physical service. i don't have to "push" people to do things they don't understand... if i become a teacher, it will be different... i must be extremely clear-sighted and compassionate...
Sunday, August 3, 2008
"relevant"
because life in the social/cultural sense is the incessant desire to be "relevant," i thought i'd look up the etymology of the word. read below. note (or I note, because i'm primed for a bias and a take): 1) the association of "relevant" to a "lessening, a lightening"; 2) to "take possession of property"; 3) to "raising, lifting up."
oh yeah, before i forget, check out definition 2 below for "relief": "project from a flat surface"...
consider the town of mililani, its name ("look up"/"exalt"/"raise up"... (give up?)), and you may understand why i consider it "interesting" with regards to my hometown. and this pseudo-work of mine to "flesh out" my personal mythic archeology of this place...
my little quest to become "relevant."
all below from onlineetymology.com:
relevant
"pertinent to the matter at hand," 1560, from M.L. relevantem (1481), prp. of L. relevare "to lessen, lighten" (see relieve). Originally a Scottish legal term meaning "take up, take possession of property;" not generally used until after 1800. Relevance is from 1733 (relevancy in the same sense is recorded from 1561).
relieve
c.1300, from O.Fr. relever "to raise, relieve" (11c.), from L. relevare "to raise, alleviate," from re-, intensive prefix, + levare "to lift up, lighten," from levis "not heavy" (see lever). The notion is "to raise (someone) out of trouble." Reliever in the baseball pitcher sense is recorded from 1967.
relief (1)
"ease, alleviation," c.1330, from Anglo-Fr. relif, from O.Fr. relief "assistance," lit. "a raising, that which is lifted," from stressed stem of relever (see relieve). Meaning "aid to impoverished persons" is attested from c.1400; that of "deliverance of a besieged town" is from c.1548.
relief (2)
"projection of figure or design from a flat surface," 1606, from It. rilievo, from rilevare "to raise," from L. relevare "to raise, lighten" (see relieve).
oh yeah, before i forget, check out definition 2 below for "relief": "project from a flat surface"...
consider the town of mililani, its name ("look up"/"exalt"/"raise up"... (give up?)), and you may understand why i consider it "interesting" with regards to my hometown. and this pseudo-work of mine to "flesh out" my personal mythic archeology of this place...
my little quest to become "relevant."
all below from onlineetymology.com:
relevant
"pertinent to the matter at hand," 1560, from M.L. relevantem (1481), prp. of L. relevare "to lessen, lighten" (see relieve). Originally a Scottish legal term meaning "take up, take possession of property;" not generally used until after 1800. Relevance is from 1733 (relevancy in the same sense is recorded from 1561).
relieve
c.1300, from O.Fr. relever "to raise, relieve" (11c.), from L. relevare "to raise, alleviate," from re-, intensive prefix, + levare "to lift up, lighten," from levis "not heavy" (see lever). The notion is "to raise (someone) out of trouble." Reliever in the baseball pitcher sense is recorded from 1967.
relief (1)
"ease, alleviation," c.1330, from Anglo-Fr. relif, from O.Fr. relief "assistance," lit. "a raising, that which is lifted," from stressed stem of relever (see relieve). Meaning "aid to impoverished persons" is attested from c.1400; that of "deliverance of a besieged town" is from c.1548.
relief (2)
"projection of figure or design from a flat surface," 1606, from It. rilievo, from rilevare "to raise," from L. relevare "to raise, lighten" (see relieve).
waipahu bon dance; aunty kimi
tonight, we went to the waipahu taiyoji bon dance. i would have preferred going to the koganji bon dance in manoa, but lynn's dad and irene said they would be at the waipahu bon dance... we got there after 6, only to discover that the dancing and everything would only start at 8 pm! so we bought andagi, spam musubi, etc., and found some seats, and just hung out for roughly 2 hours... we had all dressed in our (pathetic) best for the bon dance. i was wearing this happi coat with a big black and white dragon on the back (as if i were worthy of such garish, attention-drawing attire!). my wife wore something similar, only it wasn't a real happi coat, it was only something that LOOKED happi... aiden was wearing his "crabby" jimbei, and a hachimaki with the "matsuri" character on it. and willow, she was the star of the show, wearing her red yukata, and with a pretty fan pin in her hair. the kids got bored, so they started making up their own dances on the broken asphalt. willow seems to have inherited her dance moves from me: she just kind of kicks up her heels and shoots her arms out, over and over again. kinda flailing. dangerous. like the way i dance. aiden, on the other hand, he just kept saying "rock and roll star" and laughing hysterically. lynn and i eventually convinced him to spread his arms and legs out like a real star, and do the "jazz hands" (from "bring it on")...
anyway, at one point, aiden and lynn went to get a bottle of water from the food stand. this old woman in a red and black happi coat was sitting with her friend in the two chairs next to ours. the woman was gazing at willow fondly. eventually, she mentioned that willow's yukata was tied the wrong way. sheepishly, i replied that my wife had done it (i'm such a jerk). anyway, the old woman helped me then and there; we untied willow's sash, redid the yukata (LEFT OVER RIGHT) and she artfully tied the sash properly (higher, and with three cycles around willow's body). i thanked her, willow thanked her, and then willow (as always) began a rambling conversation with the woman. the old woman, who introduced herself as kimiko, really took a liking to willow. she remarked at how articulate willow was, etc. before willow went out to dance (with me), kimiko noticed willow didn't have a towel, so she went through her bag, got out an extra, and hung it around willow's shoulders...
later in the evening, kimiko asked me, "are you a teacher?" i hesitated in replying, because i was worried the answer would be too complex. finally, i just said, "no, but i am going to school to get a master's in special education." kimiko seemed moved by this, wiping her eyes. i asked her why she had asked the question. kimiko said, "my husband was a special education teacher at aiea elementary. he was soft and kind like you." i was moved by this compliment; i told kimiko i was sorry when i learned that he had passed away a couple of years ago...
kimiko later mentioned that she had no children, no grandchildren, but she loved all children dearly. she really took a liking to willow. i wanted to ask her more, perhaps some contact info even, but it seemed inappropriate... at times, she seemed to withdraw whenever i asked her questions; and perhaps she was content just to be kind to a little girl whom she adopted (in her heart) as her own granddaughter... in any case, willow (and aiden) gave kimiko a big hug before we left that evening.
bon is a festival honoring the dead. celebrants dance around the tower in the center like leaves floating on a spinning whirlpool. the moves of the dance are best performed by those in the center; the periphery is occupied by clods (like myself) who half-jokingly mime the moves...
the dead visit the living in the bon; it is imagined that they watch, perhaps even appear in the motions of the celebrants...
i was thinking that, maybe for kimiko, our family, myself and willow in particular, were a kind of visitation from her husband: her regrets, her remembered hopes, everything... who says that the dead can only speak through dead and long forgotten things? the dead maybe embody in the face of a living stranger, or in the laughter of an innocent child...
memory and life, death and time, they are all like the whirling dance of obon, spinning around the center, where the music issues, keeping the rhythm, driving the dance...
anyway, at one point, aiden and lynn went to get a bottle of water from the food stand. this old woman in a red and black happi coat was sitting with her friend in the two chairs next to ours. the woman was gazing at willow fondly. eventually, she mentioned that willow's yukata was tied the wrong way. sheepishly, i replied that my wife had done it (i'm such a jerk). anyway, the old woman helped me then and there; we untied willow's sash, redid the yukata (LEFT OVER RIGHT) and she artfully tied the sash properly (higher, and with three cycles around willow's body). i thanked her, willow thanked her, and then willow (as always) began a rambling conversation with the woman. the old woman, who introduced herself as kimiko, really took a liking to willow. she remarked at how articulate willow was, etc. before willow went out to dance (with me), kimiko noticed willow didn't have a towel, so she went through her bag, got out an extra, and hung it around willow's shoulders...
later in the evening, kimiko asked me, "are you a teacher?" i hesitated in replying, because i was worried the answer would be too complex. finally, i just said, "no, but i am going to school to get a master's in special education." kimiko seemed moved by this, wiping her eyes. i asked her why she had asked the question. kimiko said, "my husband was a special education teacher at aiea elementary. he was soft and kind like you." i was moved by this compliment; i told kimiko i was sorry when i learned that he had passed away a couple of years ago...
kimiko later mentioned that she had no children, no grandchildren, but she loved all children dearly. she really took a liking to willow. i wanted to ask her more, perhaps some contact info even, but it seemed inappropriate... at times, she seemed to withdraw whenever i asked her questions; and perhaps she was content just to be kind to a little girl whom she adopted (in her heart) as her own granddaughter... in any case, willow (and aiden) gave kimiko a big hug before we left that evening.
bon is a festival honoring the dead. celebrants dance around the tower in the center like leaves floating on a spinning whirlpool. the moves of the dance are best performed by those in the center; the periphery is occupied by clods (like myself) who half-jokingly mime the moves...
the dead visit the living in the bon; it is imagined that they watch, perhaps even appear in the motions of the celebrants...
i was thinking that, maybe for kimiko, our family, myself and willow in particular, were a kind of visitation from her husband: her regrets, her remembered hopes, everything... who says that the dead can only speak through dead and long forgotten things? the dead maybe embody in the face of a living stranger, or in the laughter of an innocent child...
memory and life, death and time, they are all like the whirling dance of obon, spinning around the center, where the music issues, keeping the rhythm, driving the dance...
Saturday, August 2, 2008
publication: mililani magazine
so mililani's "magazine" came out, spotlighting the history and "successes" of mililani town's 40 year existence on this earth... i had written a little thingie for it. while it wasn't perfect, i didn't feel it needed any editing... sometimes when people add words for "clarity's sake," it tends to ruin the rhythm of your prose, so that you come off sounding stupid (or, what's pretty much the same, you come off sounding like your AUDIENCE is stupid, requiring pedantic clarifications)...
anyway... wish i could finish marsilani. wouldn't it be the perfect juxtaposition to this "happy birthday" issuance? while i don't think my work is exactly critical of mililani, it does paint the town in a, shall we say, bloodier color... but the way my schedule's going, and my creativity- well, like that's ever going to happen.
***
funny thing happened yesterday. i needed to clear out a whole lot of space, get our household papers organized and such, so i started using a shredder on all of our unnecessary (but sensitive) documents... anyway, when i stopped by my parent's house, strangely enough, my mom was doing the exact same thing: sitting beside a shredder, feeding old papers...
as i was about to leave with the kids, my mom gave me a plastic bag. "it's your old stuff," she explained. it seemed pretty haphazardly packed, so i considered tossing it before leaving my parent's house... good thing i didn't. i opened it at home, and discovered a whole treasure trove of memories. i found my journal from the 2nd and 3rd grades, complete with my "transcribed-from-memory" ghost stories (the "pirate's curse" from the alfred hitchcock ghost stories lp). it was these "transcriptions" that made me appear intelligent, enough to warrant giving me the g.t. test at the end of my 3rd grade... again, as i've stated before, i think if i hadn't "copied" those stories down, no one would have even paid me any mind... and i wouldn't be "delighting" the one or two of you who happen to stumble into my blog every now and then...
i also found, interestingly enough, some papers that my parents wrote on either the day of, or in the vicinity of, my birth. my mom wrote a checklist of things to do: get crib bumpers, etc. one of the items was: come up with a name. and at the bottom of the sheet was a small list of names: ryan, steven, randall... thank god they didn't name me randall. maybe i'm so used to it (even the austin powers jokes), but randy seems so much more me than "randall." "randall." it just, well, rhymes with scandall... it's rand with "dull" at the end. and i'm dull enough as is.
***
got me to thinking about memories... it's weird. i've been to a few places, seen a few things. but at times, it seems like the past, well, it happened to someone else. i seem so consumed with adapting to the present, to "dumbing it down" to make sure it doesn't overwhelm me with its pressures and complexities, that i think i forget everything that came before. sometimes i think that if i could only summon up all my memories with clarity, bring it all to bear upon the present moment like a vast tidal wave, why, i wouldn't be so afraid of things, i'd be wiser than solomon... but: there are things i should remember but can't... like: i can't remember the configuration of our old house on aohoku place. i can't even remember how my room was set up. isn't that stupid? i lived there for almost a decade and a half.
and people... well, people seem strange to me even in the present, and sometimes i prefer to keep them that way. getting too close is... well, messy... i think i'm the kind of person who can only be intimate and loyal to a few. particularly with women (don't tell my wife). i mean, i'm as loyal as the sun and the moon, but if i didn't have this "spine" within me, i think i'd spill out my heart to anyone who'd open up to me... in fact, i think that's my dynamic: a desperate need to share, coupled with, shall we say, a polite reserve, a polite distancing. on the surface, i might seem "aloof," as they once called me in high school, but scratch just a little (or what's worse, compliment or caress me) and i'm the freshest wound beneath the scab.
***
speaking of people. i just put up a facebook profile. look it up if you'd like (as if this isn't information overload enough). I HAVE NO FRIENDS !!! (sniff sniff). no, but i don't mind. people i want to correspond with, i already am corresponding with... and because i'm such a "reserved" weirdo, well, no one wants to touch me with a ten foot pole... it's okay, it's okay.
friendship, at least in large indeterminate aggregates, is highly overrated. heady auras, and all that. as if knowing a lot of faces makes you any more special... (or maybe i'm just jealous. maybe.)
when confronted by the whole friendship game, i was the sort who just wanted to disappear.
and the people that mattered in my life, well, they always just quietly crept out as well, and kept me company...
anyway... wish i could finish marsilani. wouldn't it be the perfect juxtaposition to this "happy birthday" issuance? while i don't think my work is exactly critical of mililani, it does paint the town in a, shall we say, bloodier color... but the way my schedule's going, and my creativity- well, like that's ever going to happen.
***
funny thing happened yesterday. i needed to clear out a whole lot of space, get our household papers organized and such, so i started using a shredder on all of our unnecessary (but sensitive) documents... anyway, when i stopped by my parent's house, strangely enough, my mom was doing the exact same thing: sitting beside a shredder, feeding old papers...
as i was about to leave with the kids, my mom gave me a plastic bag. "it's your old stuff," she explained. it seemed pretty haphazardly packed, so i considered tossing it before leaving my parent's house... good thing i didn't. i opened it at home, and discovered a whole treasure trove of memories. i found my journal from the 2nd and 3rd grades, complete with my "transcribed-from-memory" ghost stories (the "pirate's curse" from the alfred hitchcock ghost stories lp). it was these "transcriptions" that made me appear intelligent, enough to warrant giving me the g.t. test at the end of my 3rd grade... again, as i've stated before, i think if i hadn't "copied" those stories down, no one would have even paid me any mind... and i wouldn't be "delighting" the one or two of you who happen to stumble into my blog every now and then...
i also found, interestingly enough, some papers that my parents wrote on either the day of, or in the vicinity of, my birth. my mom wrote a checklist of things to do: get crib bumpers, etc. one of the items was: come up with a name. and at the bottom of the sheet was a small list of names: ryan, steven, randall... thank god they didn't name me randall. maybe i'm so used to it (even the austin powers jokes), but randy seems so much more me than "randall." "randall." it just, well, rhymes with scandall... it's rand with "dull" at the end. and i'm dull enough as is.
***
got me to thinking about memories... it's weird. i've been to a few places, seen a few things. but at times, it seems like the past, well, it happened to someone else. i seem so consumed with adapting to the present, to "dumbing it down" to make sure it doesn't overwhelm me with its pressures and complexities, that i think i forget everything that came before. sometimes i think that if i could only summon up all my memories with clarity, bring it all to bear upon the present moment like a vast tidal wave, why, i wouldn't be so afraid of things, i'd be wiser than solomon... but: there are things i should remember but can't... like: i can't remember the configuration of our old house on aohoku place. i can't even remember how my room was set up. isn't that stupid? i lived there for almost a decade and a half.
and people... well, people seem strange to me even in the present, and sometimes i prefer to keep them that way. getting too close is... well, messy... i think i'm the kind of person who can only be intimate and loyal to a few. particularly with women (don't tell my wife). i mean, i'm as loyal as the sun and the moon, but if i didn't have this "spine" within me, i think i'd spill out my heart to anyone who'd open up to me... in fact, i think that's my dynamic: a desperate need to share, coupled with, shall we say, a polite reserve, a polite distancing. on the surface, i might seem "aloof," as they once called me in high school, but scratch just a little (or what's worse, compliment or caress me) and i'm the freshest wound beneath the scab.
***
speaking of people. i just put up a facebook profile. look it up if you'd like (as if this isn't information overload enough). I HAVE NO FRIENDS !!! (sniff sniff). no, but i don't mind. people i want to correspond with, i already am corresponding with... and because i'm such a "reserved" weirdo, well, no one wants to touch me with a ten foot pole... it's okay, it's okay.
friendship, at least in large indeterminate aggregates, is highly overrated. heady auras, and all that. as if knowing a lot of faces makes you any more special... (or maybe i'm just jealous. maybe.)
when confronted by the whole friendship game, i was the sort who just wanted to disappear.
and the people that mattered in my life, well, they always just quietly crept out as well, and kept me company...
Friday, August 1, 2008
other reminiscences: "vengeful corpse" from "inner sanctum"
old radio horror shows are great...
this is something else i used to listen to as a kid...
Vengeful Corpse, Inner Sanctum
this is something else i used to listen to as a kid...
Vengeful Corpse, Inner Sanctum
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