Walking home last night, my head abuzz with the stars of Tribeca, (the series of shorts, "Cold Feet" was pretty swell,) the hollywood and international actors/filmmakers were exactly in life as you see them on screen - no surprises, but oh the rapture of the flesh - my own life became cinematic for a minute.
- - -
I came upon a box of love chocolates from my past, near my front steps. They were staring up at me from the sidewalk, the plastic torn open by a bum, who-knows-what chocolaty creep crawlies spilling out. He must have rummaged through the garbage bins in front of my apartment building, upended the bags, discovered the lusty chocolates, left the torn box body like a sad little carcass for me to find.
I ended up talking to a hollow voice mail system for a moment, a loved voice explaining his unavailability to the world. For the best? Don't know. I proceeded to call an old friend, to bitch and screech and rejoice into the night. Until I passed out, of course.
Good morning.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
To monks, nuns, and ascetics
Today I wrote a letter to someone who is rather preachy with his Buddhism. This is my response to him and to monasticism in general. Marianna the Prophet-much? ;) Warning, the content you are about to read is itself preachy, serious, abysmally long, and full of helium. Beware before you take on this acid trip.
PS: Oh yeah, it's also biased, argumentative and probably overly confident and cocky. Forgive me, I would like to be the first to admit my flaws galore. On the other hand, I do believe in the way in which I try to live, and I am not sorry about that. Take it with a grain of understanding, this is my blathering blaaah-g after all.
About your monastic longings:
I appreciate that the skills you have acquired through meditation are useful for controlling yourself and I realize that I myself could benefit from such an ability - I overreact to life sometimes, and yes I see the value in your ability to separate yourself from your surroundings, to float above it all and be at peace with the world. That's a great skill to have, one that I could have used while growing up with my mother - I turned to poetry writing instead. It helped, but of course only afterwards, not during the horrible fights, the skandali we used to have. (In fact, the more I think about having such a skill, the better it sounds because yes I am overly emotional and reactive at times, and sometimes wish I just didn't care so damn much.)
While I agree that your ability to not be bothered is a wonderful one, I see that it is ruling your life, and I would not want such a thing. The monk and nun's life was never for me, nor the life of any ascetic. Only at times of great pain have I wanted to be "comfortably numb," to anesthetize myself from the hurt, the bullshit, the prickly thorns everywhere. I would like to have access to this "skill," it is obviously really useful, but everything in moderation. The problem for me with the preachings of ascetics, monks, and nuns, is that while they can teach you to live a peaceful existence in which you are constantly striving for some connection with a greater being or knowledge, this is too extreme a disconnection from the world.
You say that you love people. In an "at peace" sort of way, through the lenses of the monk that you wish to be, I'm sure you do. But you do not love the world. You do not want to be part of it. You want to be beyond it. You do not wish to be involved with it or with the people that reside here, you just want to "love" them from a distance, like a god or a deity looking down on the silly humans with their silly, silly emotions. For me, this is not "living," this is a fear and restraint of the corporal, the emotional, the bodily, the animalistic, the physiological. I am proud of my ability to feel pain, love, attachment, anger, irritation, warmth, affection, frustration, etc. Yes, pain and all the negative stuff as well. That is experiencing life - not being afraid to experience the nuances of emotion that come with this strange condition of being human. I embrace it.
You want to escape involvement with others, and that is your choice. I cherish my involvement with others. I have understood much about myself from the reflection of myself in the eyes of the other, mainly through my relationships. That is the most intimate place in which you find out who you are. You can separate yourself from that for the rest of your life if you want, some do, but you will never experience the passion, the joy, the bliss, that I do. I'll take the emotional roller coaster over the monk's peaceful nothingness on most days.
As you have noted, I love the workings of the human mind. But the mind is not some disembodied, spiritual entity floating in outer space. It is physical, corporal, chemical, and emotional. There is no disconnect, disconnect can be a useful or detrimental illusion - depending on the circumstances. The body-mind split has been a topic of debate for centuries, but now we understand that the only split that exists is a fantasy. We are not gods, we are incredibly intelligent animals, endowed with self-consciousness, with the ability to appreciate the absurdity of being Einsteins who shit and sleep and fuck.
I am not afraid of this. I love it. I love the paradox that we are. I would never wish to escape my appreciation and connectedness with the world, except perhaps temporarily, to avoid getting unnecessarily upset about something that is not worthwhile, but otherwise never constantly. Restraining yourself too much from physical pleasure, desire, connection, and emotion is a denial of what you are - I would not wish to live under a rock or in some monastery, (real or symbolic.) The very understanding that I have of the world, the clarity with which I appreciate its nuances, comes from the openness with which I experience its complexity. It is unhealthy to be avoidant of your body and its needs. That is when a human being can eventually explode from the buildup of imbalance in his or her life. I believe in balance, and in not unnecessarily restraining the body but understanding how to help it best work in the crazy, complex reality in which we live. And keep this in mind: while some cultural ideas are useful, others are not. Just because an idea has survived for a long time does not mean it is a good one. Obvious examples being kamikaze pilots and suicide. The same goes for religion, customs, traditions, stereotypes, etc. Try to see beyond what your mother or your father or your teacher or anyone (including me of course,) tells you about the world when you make up your mind - question, question, question - that is one of our greatest powers as human beings.
PS: Oh yeah, it's also biased, argumentative and probably overly confident and cocky. Forgive me, I would like to be the first to admit my flaws galore. On the other hand, I do believe in the way in which I try to live, and I am not sorry about that. Take it with a grain of understanding, this is my blathering blaaah-g after all.
About your monastic longings:
I appreciate that the skills you have acquired through meditation are useful for controlling yourself and I realize that I myself could benefit from such an ability - I overreact to life sometimes, and yes I see the value in your ability to separate yourself from your surroundings, to float above it all and be at peace with the world. That's a great skill to have, one that I could have used while growing up with my mother - I turned to poetry writing instead. It helped, but of course only afterwards, not during the horrible fights, the skandali we used to have. (In fact, the more I think about having such a skill, the better it sounds because yes I am overly emotional and reactive at times, and sometimes wish I just didn't care so damn much.)
While I agree that your ability to not be bothered is a wonderful one, I see that it is ruling your life, and I would not want such a thing. The monk and nun's life was never for me, nor the life of any ascetic. Only at times of great pain have I wanted to be "comfortably numb," to anesthetize myself from the hurt, the bullshit, the prickly thorns everywhere. I would like to have access to this "skill," it is obviously really useful, but everything in moderation. The problem for me with the preachings of ascetics, monks, and nuns, is that while they can teach you to live a peaceful existence in which you are constantly striving for some connection with a greater being or knowledge, this is too extreme a disconnection from the world.
You say that you love people. In an "at peace" sort of way, through the lenses of the monk that you wish to be, I'm sure you do. But you do not love the world. You do not want to be part of it. You want to be beyond it. You do not wish to be involved with it or with the people that reside here, you just want to "love" them from a distance, like a god or a deity looking down on the silly humans with their silly, silly emotions. For me, this is not "living," this is a fear and restraint of the corporal, the emotional, the bodily, the animalistic, the physiological. I am proud of my ability to feel pain, love, attachment, anger, irritation, warmth, affection, frustration, etc. Yes, pain and all the negative stuff as well. That is experiencing life - not being afraid to experience the nuances of emotion that come with this strange condition of being human. I embrace it.
You want to escape involvement with others, and that is your choice. I cherish my involvement with others. I have understood much about myself from the reflection of myself in the eyes of the other, mainly through my relationships. That is the most intimate place in which you find out who you are. You can separate yourself from that for the rest of your life if you want, some do, but you will never experience the passion, the joy, the bliss, that I do. I'll take the emotional roller coaster over the monk's peaceful nothingness on most days.
As you have noted, I love the workings of the human mind. But the mind is not some disembodied, spiritual entity floating in outer space. It is physical, corporal, chemical, and emotional. There is no disconnect, disconnect can be a useful or detrimental illusion - depending on the circumstances. The body-mind split has been a topic of debate for centuries, but now we understand that the only split that exists is a fantasy. We are not gods, we are incredibly intelligent animals, endowed with self-consciousness, with the ability to appreciate the absurdity of being Einsteins who shit and sleep and fuck.
I am not afraid of this. I love it. I love the paradox that we are. I would never wish to escape my appreciation and connectedness with the world, except perhaps temporarily, to avoid getting unnecessarily upset about something that is not worthwhile, but otherwise never constantly. Restraining yourself too much from physical pleasure, desire, connection, and emotion is a denial of what you are - I would not wish to live under a rock or in some monastery, (real or symbolic.) The very understanding that I have of the world, the clarity with which I appreciate its nuances, comes from the openness with which I experience its complexity. It is unhealthy to be avoidant of your body and its needs. That is when a human being can eventually explode from the buildup of imbalance in his or her life. I believe in balance, and in not unnecessarily restraining the body but understanding how to help it best work in the crazy, complex reality in which we live. And keep this in mind: while some cultural ideas are useful, others are not. Just because an idea has survived for a long time does not mean it is a good one. Obvious examples being kamikaze pilots and suicide. The same goes for religion, customs, traditions, stereotypes, etc. Try to see beyond what your mother or your father or your teacher or anyone (including me of course,) tells you about the world when you make up your mind - question, question, question - that is one of our greatest powers as human beings.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Questa notte e per te
Buonanotte fiorellino, good night little flower...there seem to be quite a few little flowers I have said good night to this year. Who and what are these flowers? They could be people for whom I must set the sun of my affection, or hopes that have become frustrations, a flower that has become a weed in my mind.
Sometimes we encounter a lovely flower and for a while it blooms beneficially, we water it tenderly as the little prince watered his rose, we listen to it, care for it, we might even draw it a sheep to keep the Baobabs away. How often is that rose a rose that by any other name would still be meant to stay in the garden after days, months, years have passed? The Garden of Eden will always be a confusing place, full of posers and half breeds, snakes and lilies, apples and poisonous fruit.
I revel in the wisdom of my 16 year old sister. While my gift is imagination hers is wisdom. She was born with it, as healers, psychics, and witches are fabled to be born with certain powers she was born with an innate understanding of the social world. My eyes are perceptive but innately naive. Hers are innately wise. I am always seeking the greater truth, always fiddling in the bowels of the clockwork, looking for the switch, but I think in some way she was born with her hand on it.
Can she describe that magic button? Probably not fully, but she can tell you what it does...the symptoms of power are fascinating, spasms of reality unknown to the blind - blinding to the sighted. There is an illness in this world, a disconnect, there are few with whom I can speak so as to be heard. When I talk I feel like I am either speaking to those who half-hear me or to those that think they have already been/there done that merry go round of thought, or I am listening to others who are repeating everybody else, a collection of monkeys with whom I am acquainted, all monkeys and geniuses with little in between. I am also speaking of the confusion, the "anomie," the identity disorder of modern society in which everyone is grasping for easy answers, buying into this or that religion, car, pack of cigarettes, drug, false prophet, etc. (And perhaps we are all monkeys and geniuses, gyrating between repetition and insight, inspiration and regurgitation.)
All right, buonanotte fiorellinos, amores mios, back to coffee and keyboarding and daydreaming about fall, fall.
Sometimes we encounter a lovely flower and for a while it blooms beneficially, we water it tenderly as the little prince watered his rose, we listen to it, care for it, we might even draw it a sheep to keep the Baobabs away. How often is that rose a rose that by any other name would still be meant to stay in the garden after days, months, years have passed? The Garden of Eden will always be a confusing place, full of posers and half breeds, snakes and lilies, apples and poisonous fruit.
I revel in the wisdom of my 16 year old sister. While my gift is imagination hers is wisdom. She was born with it, as healers, psychics, and witches are fabled to be born with certain powers she was born with an innate understanding of the social world. My eyes are perceptive but innately naive. Hers are innately wise. I am always seeking the greater truth, always fiddling in the bowels of the clockwork, looking for the switch, but I think in some way she was born with her hand on it.
Can she describe that magic button? Probably not fully, but she can tell you what it does...the symptoms of power are fascinating, spasms of reality unknown to the blind - blinding to the sighted. There is an illness in this world, a disconnect, there are few with whom I can speak so as to be heard. When I talk I feel like I am either speaking to those who half-hear me or to those that think they have already been/there done that merry go round of thought, or I am listening to others who are repeating everybody else, a collection of monkeys with whom I am acquainted, all monkeys and geniuses with little in between. I am also speaking of the confusion, the "anomie," the identity disorder of modern society in which everyone is grasping for easy answers, buying into this or that religion, car, pack of cigarettes, drug, false prophet, etc. (And perhaps we are all monkeys and geniuses, gyrating between repetition and insight, inspiration and regurgitation.)
All right, buonanotte fiorellinos, amores mios, back to coffee and keyboarding and daydreaming about fall, fall.
Monday, April 7, 2008
On people, expectations, brains, sex, etc.
The usual issues...I'm going to bed too late once more. It's simply clear that I need to cut men out of my brain as a concern (if that is at all possible,) because most of the time they are not worth thinking about.
Let's see, let's focus on the good stuff again: my study - analysis and final article, my poetry, friends, seeing plays in New York, more art, more shows, more goodness. I've blogged it so it must be official. Also health: I'm joining the Columbia gym damn it, time to move those little legs - plus they found that exercise is the only effective prevention for Alzheimer's and memory loss, the dentate gyrus in the hippocampus (a brain region significant for memory,) actually regenerates after a work out!
It's official and wonderful: I will be a professional geek at Chicago next year, YES. Yay!! I want this. Focus, happiness, goals, life...the rest will fall into place like a silver chain around the neck of a beautiful woman.
Let's see, let's focus on the good stuff again: my study - analysis and final article, my poetry, friends, seeing plays in New York, more art, more shows, more goodness. I've blogged it so it must be official. Also health: I'm joining the Columbia gym damn it, time to move those little legs - plus they found that exercise is the only effective prevention for Alzheimer's and memory loss, the dentate gyrus in the hippocampus (a brain region significant for memory,) actually regenerates after a work out!
It's official and wonderful: I will be a professional geek at Chicago next year, YES. Yay!! I want this. Focus, happiness, goals, life...the rest will fall into place like a silver chain around the neck of a beautiful woman.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
artistic masturbation
In honor of today I'd like to say: Boo.
I'm going to make poetry and music with a jew.
He plays on his flute and his guitar verrry nice,
could I be the Ali G to his Miss Piggy?
Alter ego puppets making sweet poetry,
out in the park, on a bench, on the grass?
In a tree, on a plane? Could it be, super jews?
Making juice in New York, so sweet, so sweet,
tangerine delicious, I'd like to eat that richness,
mmmm...
--------------------------------------------------
That was just a warm up, friends. I can't give you the good stuff only the appeteasers. I'm concerned about copyright - what if someone decides to be me?
Happy Sunday-ness.
I'm going to make poetry and music with a jew.
He plays on his flute and his guitar verrry nice,
could I be the Ali G to his Miss Piggy?
Alter ego puppets making sweet poetry,
out in the park, on a bench, on the grass?
In a tree, on a plane? Could it be, super jews?
Making juice in New York, so sweet, so sweet,
tangerine delicious, I'd like to eat that richness,
mmmm...
--------------------------------------------------
That was just a warm up, friends. I can't give you the good stuff only the appeteasers. I'm concerned about copyright - what if someone decides to be me?
Happy Sunday-ness.
Friday, March 28, 2008
March on
Dear random readers: I almost completely neglected you, this entire massively moving, marching, thumping, month. No, I will not neglect you.
Let's see: did I fall out of love? Not entirely, but the future Dr. Mar will be ok.
Did I fall into some kind of unusually more-defined future-ness? Kind of.
Is cross-examining the things that stick out of the back of my consciousness like a bunch of assembled busy bodies telling me "Hi I'm problem Grad School." "And I, I'm Mr. Man of Not Your Dreams but you need to talk to me, tell me what you're gonna do." "Hello I'm the voice of reason and grandmotherliness and everything will be ok." etc, kind of interesting? Sure, it stimulates me on a slow Friday when the over-priced starbucks caffeine runs out and there is not much I'd like to pretend to do while sitting in my little office. Bad girl, yes.
Schizophrenic self-conversations aside, I'm gonna go grab some lunch with a side of sanity.
Later humans. :)
Let's see: did I fall out of love? Not entirely, but the future Dr. Mar will be ok.
Did I fall into some kind of unusually more-defined future-ness? Kind of.
Is cross-examining the things that stick out of the back of my consciousness like a bunch of assembled busy bodies telling me "Hi I'm problem Grad School." "And I, I'm Mr. Man of Not Your Dreams but you need to talk to me, tell me what you're gonna do." "Hello I'm the voice of reason and grandmotherliness and everything will be ok." etc, kind of interesting? Sure, it stimulates me on a slow Friday when the over-priced starbucks caffeine runs out and there is not much I'd like to pretend to do while sitting in my little office. Bad girl, yes.
Schizophrenic self-conversations aside, I'm gonna go grab some lunch with a side of sanity.
Later humans. :)
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
The Wrong Chardonnay
I was at the Greek Kitchen today enjoying a chicken souvlaki dinner, (it's just down the street from my new home,) and decided to try some Greek chardonnay. Big mistake: yet another chardonnay that tastes more like apple juice than wine. Where oh where is the good New Zealand stuff? Mostly in New Zealand, though I've found a few imports....
The chardonnay may be shot, but my job hunt is not. I'm starting work at Columbia on March 10th. I just accepted the job offer - thank God. I plan to march in pretty triumphantly and enjoy my own little office - I'm going to be in charge of the new doctorate of nursing, there appear to be heaps of responsibilities involved to keep me busy, and yay for amazing university benefits and free tuition!
My Boston weekend was intense/awesome/fun, the snow seems to have found its way down here from there, I'm going to walk down the aisle in Olivine (an olive green color that the bridal gods created,) as a bridesmaid in August, I'm trying to use these next few free weeks productively, and really it's all pretty bitchin'. ;)
Happy Vaginal Thursday tomorrow, eat lots of chocolate, a friend of mine is making me brownies, what better way to cope with all the hearts.
The chardonnay may be shot, but my job hunt is not. I'm starting work at Columbia on March 10th. I just accepted the job offer - thank God. I plan to march in pretty triumphantly and enjoy my own little office - I'm going to be in charge of the new doctorate of nursing, there appear to be heaps of responsibilities involved to keep me busy, and yay for amazing university benefits and free tuition!
My Boston weekend was intense/awesome/fun, the snow seems to have found its way down here from there, I'm going to walk down the aisle in Olivine (an olive green color that the bridal gods created,) as a bridesmaid in August, I'm trying to use these next few free weeks productively, and really it's all pretty bitchin'. ;)
Happy Vaginal Thursday tomorrow, eat lots of chocolate, a friend of mine is making me brownies, what better way to cope with all the hearts.
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