10. Friendship: Write about being friends with someone.

friendship. it's a strange thing for me. in many respects, i don't understand it. i don't understand how it starts, or how it persists, or how/why it ends.

my first real friend (outside of my own family) was kendall fick. i can't quite remember how we met. we both attended mililani uka elementary together, and i suppose that we were in the same class or something, but i can't recall exactly how our friendship started. but in any case, he was the first friend to invite me over to his house. i recall one day, playing in his garage with a hot wheels set, even though it was raining hard just beyond. kendall moved away in the second or third grade, and for a while, i didn't have that friend to play with (as it turns out, good friends leaving was to be a recurring theme in my life). somehow, though, we stayed in touch. every now and then, he would invite me to stay over at his house in town. i used to be so excited to go there, and thought it was so cool to live in an apartment in town (the sound of the freeway rushing by made me think that there was always something going on there... nowadays, i've come to appreciate silence). kendall lived in a variety of places, from the sovereign (an apartment building near central union church, with round holes in the concrete walls at the bottom floor), to this distinctive building near the kinau offramp that had brown awnings (?) on the railings, to a small house nearby a park abutting a cliff. i also had the opportunity to stay over with him at his dad's place in salt lake (his parents divorced at some point).

the great thing about kendall was that he always tried to remain positive. i didn't know it at the time, but he had encountered some bullying when he went to the first school after mililani uka. i also discovered that his parents divorced at some point. he never really talked much about it, and i was too naive and selfish to even bring the topic up. in any case, kendall opened up worlds to me. an avid reader, he introduced me to a lot of the fantasy series that i was to fall in love with. he also liked to write, and for a time, we traded stories back and forth...

i think during high school we had a sort of falling out. or at least we didn't correspond much with each other. i believe it happened sometime during my sophomore year in high school. that was a difficult time for me, i think. by high school, kendall had definitely cultivated friendships with his private school classmates. they shared far more in common with kendall than i, who was only an occasional visitor. i recall one day when the two of us went over to a track meet at punahou. i had already endured a season of track and cross country at my high school, and had quit (dramatically) by the end of my sophomore year. i didn't like competing period. but anyway, i was with kendall, and decided to run with him in the 200 m. needless to say, i sucked big time. and it was that feeling, that sense that i was no longer in the same league, that truly isolated me from him. we didn't talk much (or at all) after that. in fact, i think it was only facebook which brought us back into contact many many years later.

***

at about the sixth grade or so, i developed good friendships with a few kids at mililani uka. they were to be my first "group." three of them happened to live very close to each other, in their own culdesac, in fact, and i always felt jealous of them for their proximity to each other. it seemed that any time any one of them wanted to, they could just walk over to each other's house, whereas i lived halfway across town. every time i wanted to hang out, i would have to ride my bike a long distance over there...

anyway, the three friends were greg fastabend, brian mahoney, and ed lau. all smart, in their own ways. soon, when we went to wheeler intermediate, we developed more friendships with the military nerds: clifton oyamot, and others. we were to become the "nerds" of the school, occupying a corner of f-building.

people teased us all the time. in retrospect, i have to say that at times we deserved the appellations thrown at us (nerds). but in any case, it really felt like we were not socially acceptable...

i don't know. i'm not willing to recount all my friendships right now.

***

suffice it to say that i'm probably not a particularly friendly or thoughtful person. people seem to think that i am, but in truth, i really am not. i don't know how to get close to people, and i'm not particularly thoughtful in the way that really thoughtful people are. i'm polite, certainly, but i'm not really kind. i don't, for instance, pay attention enough to know the likes or dislikes of people, and because of that, most of my "good deeds" happen to be pretty vague and nonspecific. i don't know why i'm like that. i just am.

i also don't really fight for friendship when it seems things take a bad turn. i just sort of accept it and move on. again, i don't know why i'm like that. it seems really unsympathetic of me.

at the same time, i hate being alone. being alone seems so pointless. or rather, it makes existence pointless. so much of my life was spent (wasted) in isolation, with me longing for someone to accompany me, to befriend me. but i never made overtures. i really couldn't. i never felt like i had much (or anything) to offer anyone. i just had this deep deep sadness.

i've used this metaphor to describe the nature of some of my friendships. i've imagined my friends as being distant figures on other mesas. i couldn't reach them, but i could see them, and maybe communicate with them in a rudimentary sort of way. and we existed in parallel, perhaps under the same sky. but we weren't close. we didn't really share anything beyond a sort of proximity.

it's sad to think of things like this, but i feel it's true. it makes me hate myself, but hate doesn't really change facts. i think having this stone heart somewhat motivates me to try and pretend to be kind, but it's a lot of work, and at times, i get so numbed out by it that i just wallow in my own introspection.

i like to hope that with my wife lynn, that things have changed about me. and i think i do care about her, and my children, and my students, in deeper and truer ways than would have been possible before. i, for example, wouldn't hesitate to have myself killed, if it meant saving them. but somehow that's not true love, or true caring... and in an analogous way, the friendships i still have, they aren't true either.

maybe i'm being hard on myself, but that seems to be the prevailing opinion i have of myself nowadays. again, i wish it were different. but wishing doesn't change facts either.

9. Animals: Choose an animal. Write about it!

i used to want to be a falcon.  something predatory.  and my friend, he was a wolf.  it used to be a metaphor of sorts, me and my long distance relationship with the world, and he, nose to the ground...  after all, i was naive and idealistic.  still am.

i don't know what animal represents me nowadays.  especially after a lot of the illusions of youth have faded, and i'm aging.  i suppose wolves age gracefully.  or other canines, like bears.  they grow grizzled and long of tooth, and their age imparts a kind of earned wisdom.  not too many other animals do that.  i don't conceive of birds, particularly birds of prey, as aging gracefully.  maybe after a while, they simply lose the ability to fly, and their lives end soon after.

i wish to be a purposeful, intelligent animal, whatever i am.  something with wisdom.  something that is still dangerous, and therefore relevant.  i do not want to be harmless, toothless, clawless.  somehow to be feared is to be respected is to be important is to be alive.

i somehow wish that sensuality were included in the package of being this aged animal.  maybe it's possible, but the way society packages sensuality is that it is inextricably tied with youth.  it's hard to conceive of it as a "beautiful thing" as we grow older.  but maybe that's the point.  when you're young, you cannot conceive of any other beauty besides that of youth, there's a myopia of sorts in that.  but maybe when you're old, if you're not tied down by all of the false hangups of society, then you just sort of naturally morph into something or someone different, with different interests, and different perspectives, and different- appreciations.

i love my wife.  it may not be the same as when we were younger, in terms of levels or degrees of intimacy, but it is strong nevertheless.  i appreciate that i always have a partner to talk to, even in those dead hours of the night, when worries and dreams threaten to tear you apart.  there's a surface to touch, to make you feel that the universe has a skin.

***

i think i would love to be a mountain: still, powerful.  and in motion, i would love to be a river: relentless, flowing.  if there were an animal that could contain that level of spirituality, and embrace both dualities of stability and dynamic action, then that is what i would want to be...  but right now, i can't see it, can't conceive of, any single animal containing those qualities.  it is a thoroughly anthropomorphic image that i have...

so, sorry, no animals that i can conceive of as relating to myself.

***

well, i guess i could talk about other animals.

we have a dog named musubi that i like to abuse.  i don't quite understand why.  it's not because, as my wife thinks, i am jealous (he follows my wife like a shadow, and my wife dotes on him).  i suppose it's because i see a sneakiness within him...  the fact that he jumps on the dining table when no one is around, and tries to eat our leftovers...  the fact that he runs away any chance he gets, to spend time with his girlfriend across the street...  i don't know why, but those acts of "disloyalty," far from appearing cute to me, really sort of disgust me.  and i don't know why this is so.  i can appreciate that these are actually endearing qualities.  it's just- in me, there is something that has a hard time tolerating the weak and small creatures, that demand something that it is not their place to demand.

i've tried to moralize this: maybe, i think, it is because I was never offered a chance, a mercy (i have, actually).  maybe it is because the world was cruel to me (it wasn't, honestly).

i don't know.

8. Dream-catcher: Write something inspired by a recent dream you had.

no recent dreams that i can remember.  only murmurs and echoes.  i wonder at it, at times.

there are times when, on the edge of sleep, i wish that i could choose what i would dream about.  it would be the end of a story that i could not conceive of with my conscious mind.  my submerged subconscious mind would take the raw elements that i offered up on the altar of my threshold mind, and transfigure and transmute them, and imbue them with a life and emotion and sincerity that i lacked.  that is what i wish.

conscious life is a trap.  we see only what we want to see.  or more precisely, we see what we condition ourselves to see, which is not the same thing.  deep inside, we WANT to see something different, a liberation, perhaps, or a pathway out.  there are no pathways out, no crevices, in this reality that my conscious mind has constructed...  an impregnable fortress...  not that there are not concerns in this prison...  things that i have neglected.  i have a thousand worries.  but then again, those worries are the very fabric of this prison.

the true dreams, even those of terror, have little to do with the worries of my conscious mind.

the true dreams are vast.

***

a state of being that allows impossibilities...  it is necessary to act without purpose, or intent.  this is the contradiction or paradox of the true art, or the true dream.  although it has a power, its power is by its very nature untamable.  therefore, to "capture it", and to impel it to allow one to ride it... involves a kind of pretending, a lie of sorts.  a deception of ignorance.

***

the true dreams: a vast underwater empire, full of living things.  a seduction that is endless, and never consummated (a promise unfulfilled)...  other things, immemorable.

***

inspiration.

7. The Rocket-ship: Write about a rocket-ship on it’s way to the moon or a distant galaxy far, far, away.

been out of it somewhat...  ok, here goes.

the rocket ship of the future isn't the cramped affair of your grandfather's time...  in fact, it's far more expedi ent to transport a large number of people, in a giant ship that utilizes solar wind to move.  within space, large reflective wings made of a polymer of foil and carbon fibers unfurl.  these wings catch solar particles like wind sails, and the collected impacts of billions of these particles push the ship towards its destination...

as it takes a long time to get to the destination, most of the crew sleeps in suspended hibernation.  there are just a few people kept awake to run the ship.  it might seem as though those few are unlucky, but for the right kind of personality, it's actually alright.  there is this thing called ansible (from orson scott card's books) that allows instantaneous communication.  on the ship, you would therefore have access to the collected wisdom of humanity, and could spend practically all of your time (your true duties would actually be pretty minimal) reading, thinking, and developing yourself.

some might think it a lonely existence.  well, yes and no.  you are NOT alone.  there are a few others who serve as fellow stewards.  these individuals have the same psychological propensities as yourself, and among them, you might develop comrades, friends, or even lovers.  while there is reproduction allowed, it is strictly regulated...  in essence, the stewards continually replicate themselves, in order to insure that the destination of the sleepers is eventually reached...

of course, this sort of plan is a recipe ripe for disaster, and several science fiction novels and movies have explored precisely this situation, and the potential en route rebellion which occurs...

***

we are a species not meant for containers...  even self-sustaining environments, closed eco-systems, are seen not as wonders of technology, but as prisons.  there is a part of our psychology, or perhaps even our basic souls, that needs to transcend obstacles, and particularly walls.  we need to excel, go beyond...  it is in our very nature.

this is why there is an irony in long-distance, interstellar space travel.  the immense distances involved require some sort of suspended animation system, but due to the unforeseen problems involved in those distances, there is a necessary overseeing role played by a small population of individuals...  and those individuals must sacrifice themselves, and quell their innate tendency to desire to break a prison imposed upon them, in order to fulfill a larger task.

if there were a "spiritual prison" that these individuals could focus on, then perhaps that would compel them to remain in the physical prison of the ships.  yes, perhaps through the ansible, these individuals could focus on and correct problems of consciousness...  and that feeling of accomplishment, of liberating consciousness, might be the key that keeps them motivated in their roles as stewards.  who knows, among these stewards might emerge the next buddha, or bodhisattva...