sorry for subjecting you all to that "freewriting exercise." to be honest, i thought it would be okay since no one reads this blog anyway. and besides, most of my blogs are relatively "stream of consciousness" anyway, although there are a lot of darker, dirtier topics that i wouldn't dare post (they likely would make this blog a bit more exciting... then again, maybe not).

this morning, we (my family) went to ice palace. like most of the country, we are experiencing a lot of "weather" lately, here, in the form of frequent violent rain storms. so doing anything outside with my family (now that my wife has a rare day off) would be out of the question. options considered were ice skating, or bowling, or going to a museum. we opted for the former.

anyways... hadn't been to ice palace in ages. it opened in about 1982, and always served as a pretty cool place to go (no pun intended). i remember skating beneath that disco ball, dots and fragments of light dancing across the dark white of the floor, as i glided (in my mind) to the sounds of songs from michael jackson's "off the wall" album. dreaming of girls. and then afterwards, sitting, drinking hot cocoa (whatever i could afford), and feeling all cozy and warm. it was the coolest thing, the coolest place to be.

today, in the role of father, things were a little different, a little more encumbered, but it was great to see a burgeoning excitement in the faces of my kids, to introduce them to this cool hangout place, to the new activity of ice-skating. we hung out in the kiddie section, the kids pushing the "sleds" like shopping carts, while i or my wife would kind of hover along behind, giving gentle directional guidance in little nudges, or lifting the kids up when they would collapse... my skates were either too loose, or too big, so eventually, they started to splay my ankles outward. by the time we were ready to go, i was so desperate to get out of those skates that i took them off and WALKED across all that wet floor (in my socks!) to the locker to get my shoes. i was thankful for the feel of terra firma, flat soled, after that experience.

we were kinda tired out by the skating, but we still managed a brief trip to ice garden in aiea (i dimly mused how ironic that was, considering where we'd just been). i didn't order anything, but kinda stood around, looking at the cramped confines of the shave ice place. they have a case of pinned butterflies hanging up on one wall. i noticed that the dessicated thorax of one of the insects was lying in one corner of the display, and i tried searching for the butterfly that it belonged to...

back at home, i fell asleep while the kids played their wii games (they have been playing electronica far too much this break!!!). later, dinner, and that brings us roughly to now. pretty boring dull day. the weather, i feel, is really starting to bug me. dampen my mood. i'm not exactly a fan of sunshine, but i do think it's starting to be a drag, not being able to go out and play...

well, yes, another boring entry. i'm reserving my "private" freewriting rambles for my own computer, thank you very much...

timed writing, per "wild mind" rules

once again, i am trying to abide by natalie goldman's rules from "wild mind." one of the rules is to not stop the writing hand from moving. i think she wrote this in the time of pen/pencil and paper, and not so much in the technological age we live in now, but the principle remains the same... do not stop writing for the duration you set out. i have set a modest time of ten minutes, so... here goes.

today, i made a sirloin beef soup. i utilized the steak my wife made for dinner last night, not the one i ate, of course, but the remaining generous steak, which had been sitting bent in half on a plate, covered over with seran wrap in the refrigerator. i took the steak out, cut it in cubes, and - what's the word - cooked it in a pot (the instructions said a large sauce pan, but the instructions also said to pour in four cups of water, and what i had wasn't all that deep). i poured in the aforementioned four cups, brought it all to a boil, and then poured in the powdered soup and noodle mix, turned the heat low, and allowed the mixture to simmer for about 20 minutes. what i loved most about the whole procedure wasn't the end product (although it was tasty!); it was the whole process, the whole "neatness" and crispness of each action. of course, it was an easy, pre-made recipe. but i suppose that easy recipes like this make it much easier to realize the "zen" (i'm probably abusing the term) of things. that's not to say that "zen" (presence of mind) doesn't exist in very difficult, awkward, complicated tasks; it's all about the approach, the settling, the mindset, i suppose. but all i'm saying is that i approached the task of making this soup (for my kids) with a settled mindset, and the overall experience of it all was "great," simple, perfect. i like this, and if it is in my cards, i hope to keep it, to maintain it...

speaking of "zen" stuff... well, i started playing an app called "osmos" on our new ipad. it is a very well-done game. i think a lot of thought was put into it. of course, being the "contemplative fool" that i am, i read a lot into it, into the gameplay, into the mission of the game. basically, and simply put, you are a cell/orb/planet, and your objective is to absorb anything that is smaller than yourself (by touching it), and keep away from anything that is larger than yourself (which will absorb you). you maneuver by ejecting little pieces of yourself, and using the propulsion of such ejection... many insights in this. first of all, if you "move" too much, via continual ejection, then you diminish yourself, you lose size, and thus you complicate your situation (because the goal of the game is to get big, not small). reminds me that continual, nonstop action will only result in powerless restlessness. this is a truth of life, i have directly experienced this...

another truth which i have "gleaned" from the game is that: it matters little what intentions you have for the universe, if you are small and of little influence, then you will only succeed in getting absorbed by those around you, and all of your good intentions will be for naught. if you manage to strategically influence the universe (i.e., if you work locally, gradually absorbing those whom you CAN influence), then you will eventually have the MASS (momentum/inertia) to absorb others to your cause... this is true as well. it matters little what intentions you bring, and how "hard" you have worked (refer to the previous paragraph about excessive action), you must find a way to accumulate mass/wealth/influence, and primarily via understanding and "going with" the way of things, the tao, the whatever, to be in a position of advantage... this, i suppose, is where zen becomes "strategic."

we usually consider "zen" to be a philosophy of liberation, and we usually (especially here in america) consider liberation to be a wildness, an uncontrollable force that is good in and of itself. but in actuality, such "wildness," if left untempered by an understanding/awareness of the nature of things, the way of the universe, it only becomes a self-aggrandizement, a greediness on the way to the destruction of both the self and the world. that is the delusion that i feel we in the modern world are trapped in, the blind belief in our own "liberation" and "mastery." we must seek liberation, it is true, but we must also learn to align our liberation, our self-hood with what is best for nature and the world at large... this is the complexity of zen, the part that americans in particular are reluctant to acknowledge...

well, ten minutes is up. enough psycho-babble...

rain king

when i think of heaven
deliver me in a black-winged bird
i think of flying
down into a sea of pins and feathers
and all other instruments
of faith and sex and god
in the belly of a black-winged bird.

don't try to feed me
cuz i've been here before
and i deserve a little more.

i belong in the service of the queen
i belong anywhere but in between...

i understand a little now.

at the bottom, there is a naked choice. you either let the wolves and buzzards in to feast on your dead flesh, or you claim a circle of space around yourself that you call your own, and you guard it with your life. the first choice is the abdication of choice; it is the default of doing nothing, and allowing the hate of the world (for there is indeed hate in the world, floating ubiquitously, breathed in unawares) to consume you. the second choice is the harder, and somehow is the more overlooked, and that is to decide for sacredness and love and hope.

we deflect or abstract this choice in many ways. at times we claim that we don't care about ourselves, but for others, we will do anything. but as the hatred around us grows subtle and persistent, we realize that this is a false distinction. you cannot leave yourself out of any interactions with the devil. you must face the devil as yourself, and speak your name first and foremost in the list of those whom you will protect as you stand against him. if you do not, then you have lost yourself to despair and the gnawing hatred, and soon afterwards, those you swore to protect will have to protect themselves from you.

***

there is a lot of irrational hatred in the world, and it attacks me persistently. its face is presented in figures outside of me, but i know that the most vicious attacks come from within. it would do no good for me to attack the figures outside of me, for 1) i would transform into the very monsters that are attacking me, and 2) again, the real enemy lies within myself. so instead, i have tried to practice something which is very hard for me: i have tried to learn how to love myself.

i don't know what your experience has been, but i learned early on to denigrate myself. as i may have mentioned in earlier blog postings, it is a form of "one-upmanship" against the world, because who could be better at putting myself down than myself? the irony is that it is a penchant for defeating oneself before anyone else can, with the end result being the same, i.e., that you have razed your own town in order to save it from being razed by bandits.

so i'm "good" at destroying myself.

it is therefore almost against my nature to build circles of "love" around myself. it is hard for me to even conceive of what that "love" would consist of, or to speak about it. i suppose that love for me is this feeling of simplicity and belonging, of appreciation and appreciating. it is woven together by breath and poetry and the art of the sacred, which is always (in my mind) the blind art, the art that can no longer see for the lack of distinctions. it is also tied to the feelings of love that are shared between myself and those i hold dear, strung up by pearl-like moments of unspoken unity that i have experienced with significant people... i dwell in these things, because they literally hold me together. if i do not actively cherish these things, then the world, this howling, hate-filled place, will literally tear me to pieces...

***

those who play the game of hate... let them play their game. i choose to do a different thing with my time, with my life. i choose to create my life in my own image, in the blindness of love.

painkiller

it is important for the heart to be vague, for the heart to be blind. remember this. it is an essential truth.

the habit of the world is to understand, or to claim it understands. it issues judgments, some based on nothing more than suppositions or fear, and others based somewhat legitimately upon past experience. but it is wrong, a fundamental error, to crystallize one's experience and stand above the world, as in a prismatic tower, and divide the world into good and bad, into tolerable and hated, no matter what one thinks one knows of the world.

even in the face of incontrovertible evidence, one must always maintain the capacity to be vague, to be forgetful, to be open. for in this, the world can be created anew, and the next moment can blossom into something that hasn't been seen before. understand this, and you will always be young, and you will always have the capacity to learn and to fall in love. forget this, and you go the way of all who are "wise"; cracked and divided by their own judgments, furrowed and trenched like their own haggard, worry-ridden skin, they fall away still issuing their monotonous commandments to an unlistening, and long "irrelevant" world...

methylphenidate dreams

the water forced itself up through miles of rock
through all the dark resistant settling
and kissed the air and sky and light and life above

but so tired from its journey that its impetus
spread and lost its shape
flattened like a second meandering skin
across the surface of everything dry and waiting

this is not the way of men
they drink of water, but they hate and fear
its willfulness, its will-less-ness,
they tolerate its passage through towns
only when bound by concrete
and funneled belowgrounds,
in side-glanced channels or underfoot.

water without direction, exposed, is a thing despised.

***

i played with the water,
loved its burbling laughter,
entertained by its random clumsy touch.

but i live in the world of men
and man only recognizes what is in his own image
man only feels what resists him
with its own will and direction.

feeling nothing, no secret push and pressured flow,
i did a secret and unnatural thing
and changed the course and nature of the water
forever.

***

today it flows with direction and clarity
like a white line of intense light
there is a spark caught in its streaming
and a need to get somewhere, anywhere,
but in every moment, somewhere specific.

and, being a man, i recognize myself in it
and am happy for the moment.

for the moment, i do not wonder
if there is something lost
in what is gained,
i only know that now
this streaming brilliance
will be accepted in this world
channeled and directioned as it now is
now must be.