okay, so i may have gone a tad too far with a couple postings. this doesn't serve exactly as an apology (which maybe safer), but as some measure of an explanation. an excuse note.
two posts. the first, "ancient chinese secret." now, i'm not discounting the whole of chinese culture. gimme a break! i'm an acupuncturist, for pete's sake. my job IS chinese culture (product of). and i don't pretend to KNOW everything about chinese culture (HARDLY) or even about acupuncture. but what i was speaking about was what one of my college professors called "orientalism." it's a phenomenon of western culture, perhaps not limited to it, but particularly rife in our modern global environment, and especially so in the alternative health field, where new exotic health products seem to pop up and become "rediscovered" every month or so. to me, this is more of a marketing ploy than anything else. keep this in mind: JUST BECAUSE SOMETHING COMES FROM SOMEWHERE YOU'VE NEVER HEARD OF BEFORE, WITH A NAME THAT SOUNDS, for lack of a better word, "EXOTIC," DOESN'T MEAN IT WILL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU. my post on the "ancient chinese secret" was intended to critique this sort of mystique-generating practice...
you know, there once was a villain in the spiderman comics called mysterio. he had a glass globe head. he kinda looked cool, but his only power was producing a lot of smoke and making holographic images. that's all. "ancient chinese secrets" are real, in some cases (witness some taijiquan masters, for instance), but unfortunately, in today's global marketplace, it's just like mysterio: smoke and mirrors, signifying nothing.
okay. that was easy. now on to post #2, which is offensive primarily by title. i know, i shouldn't have said it. and, especially being a religion major, i shouldn't have "poked fun" at a religion. but what i wrote was from experience. and it wasn't intended to put down either christianity, or women... if anything, it was a commentary on the adolescent mentality of young infatuated boys... for them, love is an end all be all thing, and it is profoundly selfish (i.e., "love ME"). that's really all i was trying to say.
if nothing else, i'm human, and this is a blog.
Monday, June 2, 2008
circle
when you started
oh so long ago
not knowing where you were going
not knowing
how did you know?
(and did you know?)
the way was blind
and oh so many miles
the course seemed straight
but the distance lied about it
the distance lied
didn't you know?
how couldn't you?
it all makes sense now
(or it doesn't)
but we always end
where we began
always stepping into skin
like ouroborus snakes
becoming
what someone else
or someone us
will shed away or eat.
don't you feel complete?
to always begin
where we thought
the ending would find
our feet?
oh so long ago
not knowing where you were going
not knowing
how did you know?
(and did you know?)
the way was blind
and oh so many miles
the course seemed straight
but the distance lied about it
the distance lied
didn't you know?
how couldn't you?
it all makes sense now
(or it doesn't)
but we always end
where we began
always stepping into skin
like ouroborus snakes
becoming
what someone else
or someone us
will shed away or eat.
don't you feel complete?
to always begin
where we thought
the ending would find
our feet?
sex with christian girls
okay, so i am gonna offend readers just by the title. but it's just my opinion/perspective, alright?
so here's the story. at one point, there was this cute korean girl who seemed to be into me. she thought i was like this gentle, kind, innocent boy. which i was, maybe, on the surface. but here was the thing. she was a devout christian, and she always made it clear that she put jesus christ first. even her lover (which would have to be her husband, because, you know, no premarital sex), even he was second to christ.
now, i'm older, and i appreciate putting everything in it's place, spirituality settles all, and everything. but let me tell you. there's nothing that wrings a young (or even old) man's heart more than being told he's to play second fiddle to some son of god who's supposed to be able to walk on water and cure leprosy and other crap. (and the no sex part's not a big winner either).
most young guys who are pretty decent, maybe socially awkward, all that they want is: well, let me put it this way. it's like they would like to play a game, but they haven't got anyone to play it with. and no, "game" is not a euphemism for "sex" (although it COULD be). it's like, they'd like to experience life with someone else, see things from a different angle, see different things, see the same things... and they want to have fun playing the game. they want the other person to have fun, because that's part of having fun themselves. fun fun fun. and nothing spoils fun more than: 1) having some third party referee continually interrupting play and doing instant replays on all the illegal moves; and 2) well, having illegal moves to begin with.
what's wrong with having love be an end in itself? to be consumed by it? maybe not wholly consumed (okay, so i am getting in some dirty water here), but to be giddy/happy/crazy thinking about it, so you do unwise things, inappropriate things, "unbecoming things?"
reason and religion are great mediators, and potentially can keep things sane and stable and sedate (read boring); but they ain't exactly great aphrodesiacs.
so here's the story. at one point, there was this cute korean girl who seemed to be into me. she thought i was like this gentle, kind, innocent boy. which i was, maybe, on the surface. but here was the thing. she was a devout christian, and she always made it clear that she put jesus christ first. even her lover (which would have to be her husband, because, you know, no premarital sex), even he was second to christ.
now, i'm older, and i appreciate putting everything in it's place, spirituality settles all, and everything. but let me tell you. there's nothing that wrings a young (or even old) man's heart more than being told he's to play second fiddle to some son of god who's supposed to be able to walk on water and cure leprosy and other crap. (and the no sex part's not a big winner either).
most young guys who are pretty decent, maybe socially awkward, all that they want is: well, let me put it this way. it's like they would like to play a game, but they haven't got anyone to play it with. and no, "game" is not a euphemism for "sex" (although it COULD be). it's like, they'd like to experience life with someone else, see things from a different angle, see different things, see the same things... and they want to have fun playing the game. they want the other person to have fun, because that's part of having fun themselves. fun fun fun. and nothing spoils fun more than: 1) having some third party referee continually interrupting play and doing instant replays on all the illegal moves; and 2) well, having illegal moves to begin with.
what's wrong with having love be an end in itself? to be consumed by it? maybe not wholly consumed (okay, so i am getting in some dirty water here), but to be giddy/happy/crazy thinking about it, so you do unwise things, inappropriate things, "unbecoming things?"
reason and religion are great mediators, and potentially can keep things sane and stable and sedate (read boring); but they ain't exactly great aphrodesiacs.
three questions
okay, so answer these questions three. and answer them honestly. if you know what these answers are supposed to signify (in a pseudo-psychological sense), then forget it... you'll taint your responses with what you think/know they're supposed to mean. later, if people ask me, and ask me nicely, i'll tell you what I was told they mean.
maybe people can write their answers as comments. for laughs. and humiliation.
1) what is your favorite animal and (most importantly) WHY?
2) what is your favorite color and (again) WHY?
3) you are trapped on a deserted island. you are also completely utterly stark naked. what do you do?
maybe people can write their answers as comments. for laughs. and humiliation.
1) what is your favorite animal and (most importantly) WHY?
2) what is your favorite color and (again) WHY?
3) you are trapped on a deserted island. you are also completely utterly stark naked. what do you do?
visitation
yesterday (which was saturday), i finally got to meet clifton, my old friend from high school, who left mililani during our sophomore year (because his father was in the air force) and who i lost touch with a year or two after that. let me first say that, in all honesty, i've never had very many friends, and i've even fewer friends left. i don't consider myself misanthropic or antisocial at all, but i have always felt an insurmountable distance; i've always felt like i was on some kind of escalator or moving platform, and to stay still long enough to "relax" and truly experience the expanse of a friendship, well, it just never seemed like i could afford it. so while many people considered (and consider) me a nice guy, few people could ever make the significant effort to reach me long enough to "make contact."
clifton (or cliff, as i knew him) was one of those few people.
it's hard to describe our friendship, i suppose, except to say that it was like being aware of your parallel. there is no real contact, but every time you moved, your parallel moved too... and there was something nice about that, like a sort of confirmation or something. not the same as looking in the mirror, because that was just you, but something much more: like realizing that you were not the only one in the universe, estranged and alone... maybe it was like one person trapped on a mesa, a self-contained island unto himself, seeing another person on a similar mesa. too far to hear and too far to see distinct facial expressions... but to realize that someone else was trapped just like you somehow made the trap significantly less intolerable.
i always felt, quite frankly, humbled by cliff. he was everything that i was not. although he will deny it, he was an independent thinker (great at chess and clever puns), athletic (he could hold his own in cross country and basketball and most "land sports"; the only thing i maybe had him beat at was swimming), and with this vivacious "spark" - i don't know how else to describe it - that seemed to make everything, the impossible, possible. i, by contrast, was physically and mentally awkward; while my thoughts and writings could on occasion be described as "creative," it was the creativity of someone who could not relate, and who got so lost in his solipsism, that his "insights" seemed to be saying something profound (but was actually me talking out of my ass); socially, i was this ridiculous imbecile who kept getting desperately infatuated with each pretty face, writing anonymous love letters (so giddy!), and replaying my dramatic romeo-and-juliet death scenes over and over in my head.
i wanted to be like cliff, and, failing that, i wanted to be his friend. i was really looking forward to going through the rest of high school alongside him, going through all the adventures of "coming into our own", dating, everything. but he left his sophomore year, and, i am not understating things to say that a large part of my hopes left with him.
the remainder of high school, and, arguably, the rest of my life, was spent in a kind of miasmic shadow. i felt myself more estranged from the world than i had ever been, often watching life from second floor balconies (like, specifically, b-building, watching the black clad goth thespians live out life, vicariously imagining what it was like to "act alive"). sure, i had friends, or rather, people that drifted close, on purpose or by accident, but all friendships were tempered by the realization that nothing, nothing could last forever, and that everything was just on the verge of suddenly departing.
these were formative years. i can't say they were entirely bad, because i think being estranged and alone is one way to avoid the virus of social programming, of being so super-caught up in the need to be cool and protect the ego. but what i can say is that they made me sad inside, and made the world an empty place without another mind/soul to share it with. secretly sad.
... this brings us back to the present. because of this blog, i was able to get in touch with two dear friends from the past. one, greg, who now lives in idaho. and the other, cliff (clifton). i won't give too many details, in order to preserve his anonymity. but he is very successful, a professor in social psychology, and a member of a rockband to boot. he is married to a wonderful (and sharp!) wife and has two beautiful children.
i should have been nervous meeting he and his family this weekend, but oddly enough, i wasn't. we hadn't seen, much less written to each other in almost twenty years! but i felt, when i first met and shook hands with him near the swings at nuuanu park (where he was pushing his daughter), as though this were the most ordinary thing in the world. cliff had that air about him. not inaccessible, unapproachable, but very warm, frank, friendly. and before i knew it, i was having a conversation with a ghost, or a shadow (or I was the shadow), and it was like, i forgot him, i forgot myself, we were just old friends.
and it was the most wonderful thing.
and what was even better was... how can i put it? we had each lived our own adventures, but we could communicate our common angsts and questions to each other. i know he lives in a different world from me, but we could each talk to each other without losing ground, without feeling the earth sunder between us... common ground. understanding...
our kids played together with a similar lack of self-consciousness...
and although i felt REALLY tired afterwards (as i'm sure clifton and his family were), i slept a deep sleep filled with reconstructed and reconstructing memories.
... i think each of us has some hero figure in their lives. hopefully some of us have the opportunity to meet with and talk to their hero. this narrows the distance, that impossible distance, we invent between ourselves and our heroes. not that our heroes were not or are not heroic. but they are, as we are, human. and in that commonality, we feel both humbled and inspired to live our own lives with renewed spirit, knowing that:
our heroes do not only fly above us, they fly alongside us as well.
thank you for visiting me, my old friend.
clifton (or cliff, as i knew him) was one of those few people.
it's hard to describe our friendship, i suppose, except to say that it was like being aware of your parallel. there is no real contact, but every time you moved, your parallel moved too... and there was something nice about that, like a sort of confirmation or something. not the same as looking in the mirror, because that was just you, but something much more: like realizing that you were not the only one in the universe, estranged and alone... maybe it was like one person trapped on a mesa, a self-contained island unto himself, seeing another person on a similar mesa. too far to hear and too far to see distinct facial expressions... but to realize that someone else was trapped just like you somehow made the trap significantly less intolerable.
i always felt, quite frankly, humbled by cliff. he was everything that i was not. although he will deny it, he was an independent thinker (great at chess and clever puns), athletic (he could hold his own in cross country and basketball and most "land sports"; the only thing i maybe had him beat at was swimming), and with this vivacious "spark" - i don't know how else to describe it - that seemed to make everything, the impossible, possible. i, by contrast, was physically and mentally awkward; while my thoughts and writings could on occasion be described as "creative," it was the creativity of someone who could not relate, and who got so lost in his solipsism, that his "insights" seemed to be saying something profound (but was actually me talking out of my ass); socially, i was this ridiculous imbecile who kept getting desperately infatuated with each pretty face, writing anonymous love letters (so giddy!), and replaying my dramatic romeo-and-juliet death scenes over and over in my head.
i wanted to be like cliff, and, failing that, i wanted to be his friend. i was really looking forward to going through the rest of high school alongside him, going through all the adventures of "coming into our own", dating, everything. but he left his sophomore year, and, i am not understating things to say that a large part of my hopes left with him.
the remainder of high school, and, arguably, the rest of my life, was spent in a kind of miasmic shadow. i felt myself more estranged from the world than i had ever been, often watching life from second floor balconies (like, specifically, b-building, watching the black clad goth thespians live out life, vicariously imagining what it was like to "act alive"). sure, i had friends, or rather, people that drifted close, on purpose or by accident, but all friendships were tempered by the realization that nothing, nothing could last forever, and that everything was just on the verge of suddenly departing.
these were formative years. i can't say they were entirely bad, because i think being estranged and alone is one way to avoid the virus of social programming, of being so super-caught up in the need to be cool and protect the ego. but what i can say is that they made me sad inside, and made the world an empty place without another mind/soul to share it with. secretly sad.
... this brings us back to the present. because of this blog, i was able to get in touch with two dear friends from the past. one, greg, who now lives in idaho. and the other, cliff (clifton). i won't give too many details, in order to preserve his anonymity. but he is very successful, a professor in social psychology, and a member of a rockband to boot. he is married to a wonderful (and sharp!) wife and has two beautiful children.
i should have been nervous meeting he and his family this weekend, but oddly enough, i wasn't. we hadn't seen, much less written to each other in almost twenty years! but i felt, when i first met and shook hands with him near the swings at nuuanu park (where he was pushing his daughter), as though this were the most ordinary thing in the world. cliff had that air about him. not inaccessible, unapproachable, but very warm, frank, friendly. and before i knew it, i was having a conversation with a ghost, or a shadow (or I was the shadow), and it was like, i forgot him, i forgot myself, we were just old friends.
and it was the most wonderful thing.
and what was even better was... how can i put it? we had each lived our own adventures, but we could communicate our common angsts and questions to each other. i know he lives in a different world from me, but we could each talk to each other without losing ground, without feeling the earth sunder between us... common ground. understanding...
our kids played together with a similar lack of self-consciousness...
and although i felt REALLY tired afterwards (as i'm sure clifton and his family were), i slept a deep sleep filled with reconstructed and reconstructing memories.
... i think each of us has some hero figure in their lives. hopefully some of us have the opportunity to meet with and talk to their hero. this narrows the distance, that impossible distance, we invent between ourselves and our heroes. not that our heroes were not or are not heroic. but they are, as we are, human. and in that commonality, we feel both humbled and inspired to live our own lives with renewed spirit, knowing that:
our heroes do not only fly above us, they fly alongside us as well.
thank you for visiting me, my old friend.
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