Words are very important to me. For many obvious reasons, both artistic and personal, I have always had an interest in being able to find and use the right words in a given situation. The artistic importance of this is pretty self-evident. As for the personal, well, that comes from a life of needing to express myself through words. Ironically, that is easier said than done. It is mostly intuitive. I don't read words of the day or look through the thesaurus. I am blessed with a great memory that allows me to simply pick up great words here and there. And I try not to force their use.
My meditation practices are also fairly commonplace: concentrating on breathing, counting, humming a simple sustained note, or just being mindful of my own thoughts. Another thing I like to do is to choose a word, close my eyes, and focus deeply on what that one, particular word means to me.
Lately, I've been meditating on clarity. There is an analogy I read about somewhere that says the mind is like a glass of water with sediment in it. When your thoughts get all mixed up and start flying around, it's like sediment getting dusted up and clouding the water in the glass. In order to think more effectively, you need to slow down and relax and basically stop thinking. Then, the sediment sinks to the bottom and the water in the glass becomes clear.
So my meditation has been to try and maintain careful focus on clarity, and only clarity. I mean this literally. For weeks, I would concentrate on attempting to keep my mind clear. Each time I sensed random thought creeping in, I would repeat (not verbally) the word "clarity" to myself until any other thought passed away. Eventually, one thought began to come back continually. It was a conversation I'd had with my aunt about the idea of practice. That is, both practicing some particular event in your mind before actually carrying it out, as well as the act of putting things into practice. My view of it is that each time we put something into practice, it is our chance to do it the right way in that moment and also to use it as an opportunity to practice & prepare for future moments.
I knew, then, that the meaning of clarity had something to do with practice. I needed to figure out what that was. Now, most of my meditation sessions involve using more than one technique. The mind ties them all together. After the "clarity" technique, I would always listen to my thoughts without trying to control them. Finally, one day the words "clarity, practice, balance" came to me, in that order. Eureka!
Balance has always been important to me. I'm an optimist by nature, but as I've gotten older I've tried to pair that with realism. Balance is where I find that. I believe it is very difficult for us to keep a clear focus when we fall to extremes. Whether it's gluttony or starvation, moving hard to either side of the emotional spectrum can cloud our judgment. If the water in the glass is knocked off balance, the sediment at the bottom will dust up as the water finds its own level.
Since this insight, my mantra has been these three words: Clarity Practice Balance. It tells me that a clear mind is found by practicing balance at each opportunity.
Clarity. Practice. Balance.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
They Say There's Magic in the Air
The first entry I ever wrote on this blog had to do with my small, but memorable, role in contributing to the premiere of the musical, 13, in Los Angeles in January of 2007. Now, after a long and most likely arduous process of revising, rewriting, recasting, and retooling, the musical will make its Broadway debut on Sunday. If you'll be in NYC during its first run, go see it. If you need some new music, check out the cast album. This is a big weekend in my household, with a big Trojan home game and the Dodgers poised to make a run into the NLCS. And now thanks to my friend Jason, the success of 13 is right up there at the top of my list.
To all the cast and crew:
Break a leg!
To all the cast and crew:
Break a leg!
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
My First Quarter-Century
Yesterday was my 25th birthday. I spent the weekend leading up to it first celebrating the birthdays of my mom and brother the week before and then thinking about what it meant for me to have lived 25 years. I thought about it both in context with just this past year and with all 25 together. You know, I consider myself to be pretty well-adjusted and I have a healthy self-esteem, but I also strive to be humble and I have a hard time just giving myself big-time compliments. That being said, however, I feel compelled to do just that this time.
I'm very proud of myself. I view reaching the age of 25 as a major achievement in my life. There is something significant about the age in general, but it means more for me. I had a chance to discuss it with my mom. She remarked lightly, "Who would've thunk it 25 years ago?" I thought about that a little more seriously, and responded, "How about 22 years ago?". Of course, this was a reference to the age of my diagnosis. And in 1986, the outlook in those informational pamphlets was grim for all boys by the age of 18.
Oh, I've had my chances to step out, as my friend would so eloquently say. When I call my most recent health challenge -- which ended in that most successful surgery -- a struggle, I really mean it. I was really weakened battling those wounds. I honestly believed I was at my bottom when I found out surgery was necessary, and there were a couple of weeks where I didn't feel like my body would be able to withstand that stress. But, I had to man up and do it, like it or not. This is the reason why I feel I have achieved so much in the last month. I found strength at my lowest point and willed my way through.
I read through the year in review I posted around the time of my last birthday, and there is definitely the sense of declining health for me as I read it. There are so many heavy topics for discussion in it. So much seriousness, so much pain. I was ready for it to be over then, but obviously there was much more fun in store. I'm glad for it, though, because now I feel stronger than ever. My breathing is good and getting better. I feel like I have work to do and the energy to get it done. My appetite is excellent, and always ready for more. I even feel my senses heightened.
For all these reasons and more, 25 is a big, big deal. And this year, I plan on bringing the focus back to regular, happy things. I'm going to work on my writing and continue to be published. I have to keep spoiling my nieces & nephews. I want to enjoy more of life's simple pleasures like good music or a nice bottle of red. Most importantly, I have a social life to renew. It is definitely grand to go from needing to find a surgeon & a way to get better to wanting to find a girlfriend & have a relationship. Enough seriousness. For now, I'll take the little things.
There's no time to lose!
I'm very proud of myself. I view reaching the age of 25 as a major achievement in my life. There is something significant about the age in general, but it means more for me. I had a chance to discuss it with my mom. She remarked lightly, "Who would've thunk it 25 years ago?" I thought about that a little more seriously, and responded, "How about 22 years ago?". Of course, this was a reference to the age of my diagnosis. And in 1986, the outlook in those informational pamphlets was grim for all boys by the age of 18.
Oh, I've had my chances to step out, as my friend would so eloquently say. When I call my most recent health challenge -- which ended in that most successful surgery -- a struggle, I really mean it. I was really weakened battling those wounds. I honestly believed I was at my bottom when I found out surgery was necessary, and there were a couple of weeks where I didn't feel like my body would be able to withstand that stress. But, I had to man up and do it, like it or not. This is the reason why I feel I have achieved so much in the last month. I found strength at my lowest point and willed my way through.
I read through the year in review I posted around the time of my last birthday, and there is definitely the sense of declining health for me as I read it. There are so many heavy topics for discussion in it. So much seriousness, so much pain. I was ready for it to be over then, but obviously there was much more fun in store. I'm glad for it, though, because now I feel stronger than ever. My breathing is good and getting better. I feel like I have work to do and the energy to get it done. My appetite is excellent, and always ready for more. I even feel my senses heightened.
For all these reasons and more, 25 is a big, big deal. And this year, I plan on bringing the focus back to regular, happy things. I'm going to work on my writing and continue to be published. I have to keep spoiling my nieces & nephews. I want to enjoy more of life's simple pleasures like good music or a nice bottle of red. Most importantly, I have a social life to renew. It is definitely grand to go from needing to find a surgeon & a way to get better to wanting to find a girlfriend & have a relationship. Enough seriousness. For now, I'll take the little things.
There's no time to lose!
Friday, September 12, 2008
What It Means to Be a Trojan
I just recently overcame a big obstacle in my life. After a nearly 2-year health struggle, I ended up facing the need to have surgery. Going into it, I had already used up my strength battling the struggles before. I had already done my best, and I felt like I gave everything I could possibly give. And then I needed to give a little more. I needed to grit my teeth once again and ready for a bigger and more important battle. I knew that my next test would be the only one that mattered. In order to win, I knew I had to be thankful for everything behind me, mindful of everything ahead, and completely focused on the task at hand. And I did that, I succeeded.
I succeeded because I willed myself to feel fresh & prepared for each wave upon wave of pain I went through. I saw all the threats and I knew what they meant, but I didn't turn my back on them, and I could have. No, I faced them. In my mind, it wasn't what I could do, it was what I must do. And all this occurred before I even thought about the difficult part: the surgery itself. Soon, I faced that. Fear, agony, confusion, frustration, anger... these were my opponents. I faced a choice. I could give in to them, forget about all the skills I had that could get me through, and simply hide in a fog of medication and defeat. Or... I could man up and trust all the things that got me to where I was. I could trust in my way of doing things, my faith, knowledge, skills, courage, and my ambition to be victorious. And that's just what I did, I faced it and I succeeded.
The funny thing was I was glad to be in that situation, in my element. Sure it was hard, and it physically did not feel good to go through, but at the same time I knew all the way through that it was where I belonged. It's how I decide who I really am, in the adversity. In those moments of challenge, that's where you see the real you. So I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the opportunity to do something great for myself, to say, "Hey, I'm doing the right things the right way and that's what makes me great."
That's what happens on Saturday for a whole team of Trojans, when USC takes on Ohio State. There comes a time when you realize that Trojan is not just some word or some mascot. It represents something. It means something. It means that you don't run away from the adversity. No, it's just the opposite. You seek it out. You seek the challenge. You put yourself in a position where you're under a threat from your opponent. You put yourself in a position where you can lose. Not only that, not only do you seek out your adversaries willingly, but you enjoy doing it! You are glad that your whole season, that everything you worked for and everything you're trying to achieve is all on the line.
This is a great thing. Why? No risk, no reward. What good is a victory you don't earn? What good is winning & success when it doesn't cost you your hard work, your body, your spirit? When you face your toughest tests, you want to walk away from them knowing, not feeling or thinking, but knowing that you gave every single thing you had. That you gave as much as the guy standing next to you. When you do that, there is no one that can be let down. And that is how you embody the Trojan. Darrell Rideaux once asked for everything from his teammates, telling them to go out and fight like men, fight like Trojans. And this is what you want to see.
Fight On, Trojans. Beat those Buckeyes.
I succeeded because I willed myself to feel fresh & prepared for each wave upon wave of pain I went through. I saw all the threats and I knew what they meant, but I didn't turn my back on them, and I could have. No, I faced them. In my mind, it wasn't what I could do, it was what I must do. And all this occurred before I even thought about the difficult part: the surgery itself. Soon, I faced that. Fear, agony, confusion, frustration, anger... these were my opponents. I faced a choice. I could give in to them, forget about all the skills I had that could get me through, and simply hide in a fog of medication and defeat. Or... I could man up and trust all the things that got me to where I was. I could trust in my way of doing things, my faith, knowledge, skills, courage, and my ambition to be victorious. And that's just what I did, I faced it and I succeeded.
The funny thing was I was glad to be in that situation, in my element. Sure it was hard, and it physically did not feel good to go through, but at the same time I knew all the way through that it was where I belonged. It's how I decide who I really am, in the adversity. In those moments of challenge, that's where you see the real you. So I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the opportunity to do something great for myself, to say, "Hey, I'm doing the right things the right way and that's what makes me great."
That's what happens on Saturday for a whole team of Trojans, when USC takes on Ohio State. There comes a time when you realize that Trojan is not just some word or some mascot. It represents something. It means something. It means that you don't run away from the adversity. No, it's just the opposite. You seek it out. You seek the challenge. You put yourself in a position where you're under a threat from your opponent. You put yourself in a position where you can lose. Not only that, not only do you seek out your adversaries willingly, but you enjoy doing it! You are glad that your whole season, that everything you worked for and everything you're trying to achieve is all on the line.
This is a great thing. Why? No risk, no reward. What good is a victory you don't earn? What good is winning & success when it doesn't cost you your hard work, your body, your spirit? When you face your toughest tests, you want to walk away from them knowing, not feeling or thinking, but knowing that you gave every single thing you had. That you gave as much as the guy standing next to you. When you do that, there is no one that can be let down. And that is how you embody the Trojan. Darrell Rideaux once asked for everything from his teammates, telling them to go out and fight like men, fight like Trojans. And this is what you want to see.
Fight On, Trojans. Beat those Buckeyes.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The Wisdom is Knowing Where to Look
I once heard this wise woman speak. She was the type of person who could see things about people, things that others couldn't, or wouldn't see. She said, "If you want to find God don't look up, look around." The older I get, the more I realize how much this statement influences the role faith plays in my life. Personally, I believe anyone who can sit down and definitively say, "God is this," or "God is that," is either lying or crazy. I wouldn't ever presume to define totally who or what God is. I'm always careful to preface my feelings on this subject that it does come down to unprovable faith. My worldview works because it comes from my experience, and it's one that can't be totally understood unless someone else could somehow have exactly the same experience. One thing I do know is that the verb "to know" has no place in this discussion. However, that makes faith all the more meaningful. I do not know, and because of that, I believe.
I believe in this wise woman's statement. When we look around, we might see the signs: beauty & Art; nature, the ordered universe, and science; freedom, truth, and love. Most of all, we might see it in ourselves and in the other people around us. It is unfortunate that the easiest way comes in the void left when a loved one leaves us. When we mourn the absence of that person, we remind ourselves of all the things they brought to us. In the best of circumstances, they bring us together. Beyond the specific gifts and memories each person leaves behind, they all teach us to look to each other and see God in that most unclear place, within ourselves and within others.
But why is it unclear? We get caught up in daily life, which is only natural, and I believe we're not used to looking. I've always thought media perception is so contrived, and I find it most hollow when celebrities talk about giving all their glory to God and then they point up into the sky. Now I don't judge others' self-expression, and pointing to the sky is not a problem in and of itself, but what does it say when the appearance of faith is more important than the faith itself? Why does it matter that strangers know what you believe?
So, it takes a lot of practice to see spirit clearly in other people, in all people, especially in our day-to-day lives. In spite of that, I believe the faith it takes to keep that practice going leads to a realization that the most vivid experience of God is in humanity. It is simultaneously the experience most vulnerable to a loss of faith. People are capable of a full range of kind and terrible acts. The challenge of faith is easy to understand when you can see both love and hate in the same being. Equally challenging is the loss of a loved one. They can bring us together, but that is in the best of circumstances. Everyone grieves differently, and this kind of adversity can also drive people apart. This points to the importance of seeing God in ourselves.
What irritates me more than Celebrity Faith is faith dependent on the outcome of events, or as I call it: Results-Based Faith. It is my belief that if we can see God in ourselves and strive toward that ideal, then bad things can happen without harming us. My goal is being the best I can in this life, not setting a standard for myself that is unreachable.
I look around at the amazing things in this world, and I make damn sure I take pleasure in them completely.
I believe in this wise woman's statement. When we look around, we might see the signs: beauty & Art; nature, the ordered universe, and science; freedom, truth, and love. Most of all, we might see it in ourselves and in the other people around us. It is unfortunate that the easiest way comes in the void left when a loved one leaves us. When we mourn the absence of that person, we remind ourselves of all the things they brought to us. In the best of circumstances, they bring us together. Beyond the specific gifts and memories each person leaves behind, they all teach us to look to each other and see God in that most unclear place, within ourselves and within others.
But why is it unclear? We get caught up in daily life, which is only natural, and I believe we're not used to looking. I've always thought media perception is so contrived, and I find it most hollow when celebrities talk about giving all their glory to God and then they point up into the sky. Now I don't judge others' self-expression, and pointing to the sky is not a problem in and of itself, but what does it say when the appearance of faith is more important than the faith itself? Why does it matter that strangers know what you believe?
So, it takes a lot of practice to see spirit clearly in other people, in all people, especially in our day-to-day lives. In spite of that, I believe the faith it takes to keep that practice going leads to a realization that the most vivid experience of God is in humanity. It is simultaneously the experience most vulnerable to a loss of faith. People are capable of a full range of kind and terrible acts. The challenge of faith is easy to understand when you can see both love and hate in the same being. Equally challenging is the loss of a loved one. They can bring us together, but that is in the best of circumstances. Everyone grieves differently, and this kind of adversity can also drive people apart. This points to the importance of seeing God in ourselves.
What irritates me more than Celebrity Faith is faith dependent on the outcome of events, or as I call it: Results-Based Faith. It is my belief that if we can see God in ourselves and strive toward that ideal, then bad things can happen without harming us. My goal is being the best I can in this life, not setting a standard for myself that is unreachable.
I look around at the amazing things in this world, and I make damn sure I take pleasure in them completely.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Unbound
I've been dealing with some health issues for much of the last two years. Recently, there was a complication that will require correction by surgery. The outpouring of support for me has been tremendous, as usual. But by no means do I take it for granted as, again, I feel extremely fortunate and blessed. Just this past week alone has given me much to reflect on with regard to friendship.
I spent this past Tuesday evening with two old but extremely close friends I hadn't seen in a long time. They are lovers who have been together forever, it seems like. He works in asset management up in Pasadena, and She is a receptionist at a local silk screening place. All we did was have pizza & beer together and then watch a little TV, and yet so much more took place. As I've written before, sharing a meal (being at table) with loved ones is a sacred thing, no matter how informal. I'm an emotional guy, and I already know that I will grow more emotional when I near my surgery date, which will then be the time to exchange affection & loving words. What I needed that Tuesday night was simply to talk and to relax, something easy to do when laughter is the favorite past time of this couple & I.
Wednesday and Thursday of last week took me way back, all the way to memories of the elementary school days. On Wednesday, two friends (who are both brothers of the guy I went to school with) and their mom, as well as another young lady & friend to us all, stopped by to talk and reminisce. The guys and I looked forward, discussing things like musical inspiration, college majors, and life philosophy. They reminded me of me: bright and positive, looking at the good. It was a boost I needed at exactly that time. "Smile, we are alive," one great friend said.
Thursday was another trip in the Wayback Machine, as I saw another beautiful friend who also went to grade school with me. She and I had not seen each other in five years, by my count. When she arrived, my mom attended to the door telling me that some gorgeous woman was approaching. My mom was certainly right, yet at the same time the beauty I refer to came from finding myself on the same wavelength with this other wonderful person. And, quite truthfully, the two of us had not really had a meaningful conversation since the end of grade school. Remarkable. We spoke of many things: freedom and goals and expressing love and overcoming adversity. Surprise, surprise, more philosophy with me.
The next few days saw visits from my godfather and aunt, a married couple I knew from my SC years, and my brother, sister-in-law, niece & nephew. They were all similarly simple and yet meaningful. My aunt and godfather have always made me feel so comfortable with my own maturity, which has come from my individual life experience. Without fail, my godfather finds the time to get my take on things, adult to adult. I always find myself up late talking and talking with that particular married couple from college, and I always love it. They're so at home with me. That brings me comfort. At last, I closed the weekend gathered with my niece & nephew and their parents and grandparents, singing Irish folk songs together.
When I think about friendship and friends, I make a significant distinction between those things and acquaintances. My friends are people I deeply love. One major aspect of friendship that strikes me is the form of love it takes. Friendship is unbound love.
Love between friends comes with no built-in barrier. People may place limits, but only by choice. To me, this is the greatest advantage the love of friendship has. Individuals unrelated by blood can become family through it, and this has happened many times over for me. I have a few sisters, and many brothers, thanks to my realization regarding unbound love. When appropriate, younger & older generations can become equals through friendship. I believe one form of this is children aging and then beginning to assume caretaker roles for their parents. Lastly, this definition of friendship can allow friends refraining from any sort of limit to become lovers. Especially strong romantic love is born out of the unbound love of friendship.
These are just some of my inspirations on friendship from this past week.
I spent this past Tuesday evening with two old but extremely close friends I hadn't seen in a long time. They are lovers who have been together forever, it seems like. He works in asset management up in Pasadena, and She is a receptionist at a local silk screening place. All we did was have pizza & beer together and then watch a little TV, and yet so much more took place. As I've written before, sharing a meal (being at table) with loved ones is a sacred thing, no matter how informal. I'm an emotional guy, and I already know that I will grow more emotional when I near my surgery date, which will then be the time to exchange affection & loving words. What I needed that Tuesday night was simply to talk and to relax, something easy to do when laughter is the favorite past time of this couple & I.
Wednesday and Thursday of last week took me way back, all the way to memories of the elementary school days. On Wednesday, two friends (who are both brothers of the guy I went to school with) and their mom, as well as another young lady & friend to us all, stopped by to talk and reminisce. The guys and I looked forward, discussing things like musical inspiration, college majors, and life philosophy. They reminded me of me: bright and positive, looking at the good. It was a boost I needed at exactly that time. "Smile, we are alive," one great friend said.
Thursday was another trip in the Wayback Machine, as I saw another beautiful friend who also went to grade school with me. She and I had not seen each other in five years, by my count. When she arrived, my mom attended to the door telling me that some gorgeous woman was approaching. My mom was certainly right, yet at the same time the beauty I refer to came from finding myself on the same wavelength with this other wonderful person. And, quite truthfully, the two of us had not really had a meaningful conversation since the end of grade school. Remarkable. We spoke of many things: freedom and goals and expressing love and overcoming adversity. Surprise, surprise, more philosophy with me.
The next few days saw visits from my godfather and aunt, a married couple I knew from my SC years, and my brother, sister-in-law, niece & nephew. They were all similarly simple and yet meaningful. My aunt and godfather have always made me feel so comfortable with my own maturity, which has come from my individual life experience. Without fail, my godfather finds the time to get my take on things, adult to adult. I always find myself up late talking and talking with that particular married couple from college, and I always love it. They're so at home with me. That brings me comfort. At last, I closed the weekend gathered with my niece & nephew and their parents and grandparents, singing Irish folk songs together.
When I think about friendship and friends, I make a significant distinction between those things and acquaintances. My friends are people I deeply love. One major aspect of friendship that strikes me is the form of love it takes. Friendship is unbound love.
Love between friends comes with no built-in barrier. People may place limits, but only by choice. To me, this is the greatest advantage the love of friendship has. Individuals unrelated by blood can become family through it, and this has happened many times over for me. I have a few sisters, and many brothers, thanks to my realization regarding unbound love. When appropriate, younger & older generations can become equals through friendship. I believe one form of this is children aging and then beginning to assume caretaker roles for their parents. Lastly, this definition of friendship can allow friends refraining from any sort of limit to become lovers. Especially strong romantic love is born out of the unbound love of friendship.
These are just some of my inspirations on friendship from this past week.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Super Tiger
In the past six months, Tiger Woods officially played in seven golf tournaments. He won five of them, including his second-place finish at the Masters in April and his 14th Major Championship win at the U.S. Open this past weekend. As remarkable as this is, there's something amiss. What's the problem? The problem is that Tiger Woods tore his ACL. Last July.
Following this year's Masters, Tiger had arthroscopic surgery to clean up some cartilage that was damaged as a result of playing golf on a torn knee. Two weeks before the Open, he suffered a double stress fracture in the tibia on the same leg. The doctor said treatment involved six weeks without golf. Tiger said, "I'm playing in the U.S. Open, and I'm going to win." That is precisely what he did.
That highlight video is the best I can find, and it gives you a sense of the exceptional nature of Tiger's play. However, the incredible putts and chips, the gargantuan tee shots, those are only the products of Woods' greatness. The biggest highlight isn't conducive to a three-minute clip. The biggest highlight is how this gladiator, this warrior, this man gritted his teeth and endured 91 holes of USGA torture. That's right... four rounds, an 18-hole playoff, and one sudden-death hole on one leg without a word about what was wrong. Now, that is a grinder.
I'm not much for celebrity, and I know how much perception can be manipulated, so I'll never know for sure. But in my opinion, the source of Woods' greatness is in his mind and, dare I say, in his spirit. Mental toughness, strength, even courage, it is not an exaggeration to find these things in someone like Tiger. And all that we see on TV is only a tenth of the exhausting work, the effort, and the heart that he puts in. Despite the money, despite the fame, that's integrity, because no one will ever know the soul put into the work.
Add to the above the practice of repetition, of repeatedly doing the right things to get you to where you want to go, as well as the presence at the end of the day to be a husband and be a father and you will get a recipe for all the things I learned by watching a golf tournament last weekend. With tomorrow being the one-year anniversary of my launching this blog, I hope to incorporate into my writing over the next year the things I learned from Tiger which are also things others have long told me.
And maybe Elin Woods' twin sister is available, too...
Following this year's Masters, Tiger had arthroscopic surgery to clean up some cartilage that was damaged as a result of playing golf on a torn knee. Two weeks before the Open, he suffered a double stress fracture in the tibia on the same leg. The doctor said treatment involved six weeks without golf. Tiger said, "I'm playing in the U.S. Open, and I'm going to win." That is precisely what he did.
That highlight video is the best I can find, and it gives you a sense of the exceptional nature of Tiger's play. However, the incredible putts and chips, the gargantuan tee shots, those are only the products of Woods' greatness. The biggest highlight isn't conducive to a three-minute clip. The biggest highlight is how this gladiator, this warrior, this man gritted his teeth and endured 91 holes of USGA torture. That's right... four rounds, an 18-hole playoff, and one sudden-death hole on one leg without a word about what was wrong. Now, that is a grinder.
I'm not much for celebrity, and I know how much perception can be manipulated, so I'll never know for sure. But in my opinion, the source of Woods' greatness is in his mind and, dare I say, in his spirit. Mental toughness, strength, even courage, it is not an exaggeration to find these things in someone like Tiger. And all that we see on TV is only a tenth of the exhausting work, the effort, and the heart that he puts in. Despite the money, despite the fame, that's integrity, because no one will ever know the soul put into the work.
Add to the above the practice of repetition, of repeatedly doing the right things to get you to where you want to go, as well as the presence at the end of the day to be a husband and be a father and you will get a recipe for all the things I learned by watching a golf tournament last weekend. With tomorrow being the one-year anniversary of my launching this blog, I hope to incorporate into my writing over the next year the things I learned from Tiger which are also things others have long told me.
And maybe Elin Woods' twin sister is available, too...
Monday, June 9, 2008
To live and die in LA
A friend of mine is taking a class on Los Angeles culture. He asked me to participate in a survey for one of his research papers, and upon reading the questions, I thought my answers would make a great blog entry. Here they are:
1. Use one word to describe Los Angeles and explain why you chose that particular word.
Freedom. Both literally and figuratively, Los Angeles is a sprawling, wide-open place. Your experience here is mostly up to you, you get what you put in. This is both good and bad. There is no handholding or safety net in Los Angeles, and that quality is definitely not for everyone. However, for people who are self-starters, the freedom in LA is great because you are responsible for the risks you take but at the same time, you earn the rewards, and these are considerable when you get to be the one determining them.
2. What do you see as some of the most positive aspects of Los Angeles?
The weather is great year-round. Being on the coast, the ocean is literally a short drive away. It is a great sports town, as far as the teams are concerned. There is a ton of variety as far as having things to do. For any type of person, there are innumerable places to go and activities to participate in on any given day.
3. What do you see as some of the most negative aspects of Los Angeles?
The traffic is the single worst part of Los Angeles. It does factor into almost every decision with regard to going and doing things in LA because of the time impact. Public transportation is mediocre at best, and very poorly designed. The sports fans, in general, are not as great as the teams. They are too fair-weather, only showing support when the teams are winning championships. Less superficially, both the actual danger and the perception of danger in urban areas are significant negatives.
4. Do you feel a sense of community in Los Angeles? If so, what unites the people? If not, what are the sources of division?
There is a definite sense of community in Los Angeles. Part of it comes from the variety of the people. In many places, variety drives people apart, but in Los Angeles the people seem to have molded their own, new culture out of a combination of all the background traditions of each person living here. The people of Los Angeles are most united by the fact that they know you have to live here and appreciate this place in order to understand it.
5. If someone you knew was moving to Los Angeles, what advice would you give him/her?
The first thing I would tell her is to buy a reliable, high gas mileage automobile. Never underestimate the importance of that. Also, on a more philosophical level, I would tell her to try and keep her mind as free and open as I believe Los Angeles is. Don't try to pin the place down or quickly define it without spending a good amount of time here. The whole Hollywood thing is overblown, and a lot of people new to the area make the mistake of thinking Hollywood is all there is.
6. How do you see Los Angeles in 50 years? What are your hopes for L.A.? What are your fears?
50 years is a really long time... by that time, Los Angeles could be the capital of Mexico, Canada, or China for that matter. I'm not sure where I see myself in 50 years. In the future, I see downtown becoming more of a social destination especially as it is beginning to be cleaned up. I see many of the urban areas, that have been given up on, returning to neighborhoods and communities again. My fear for LA is that the common culture that all of the people here have created gets eroded by political correctness. I'm afraid of the possibility of the city losing its openness if the people turn away from what unites them. My hope for LA is that all of the great things about this city only get stronger, and the people are able to fix the weaknesses. I hope that Los Angeles installs a new, efficient public transportation system that is well-designed, perhaps a monorail, so that the one big negative is eliminated once and for all.
1. Use one word to describe Los Angeles and explain why you chose that particular word.
Freedom. Both literally and figuratively, Los Angeles is a sprawling, wide-open place. Your experience here is mostly up to you, you get what you put in. This is both good and bad. There is no handholding or safety net in Los Angeles, and that quality is definitely not for everyone. However, for people who are self-starters, the freedom in LA is great because you are responsible for the risks you take but at the same time, you earn the rewards, and these are considerable when you get to be the one determining them.
2. What do you see as some of the most positive aspects of Los Angeles?
The weather is great year-round. Being on the coast, the ocean is literally a short drive away. It is a great sports town, as far as the teams are concerned. There is a ton of variety as far as having things to do. For any type of person, there are innumerable places to go and activities to participate in on any given day.
3. What do you see as some of the most negative aspects of Los Angeles?
The traffic is the single worst part of Los Angeles. It does factor into almost every decision with regard to going and doing things in LA because of the time impact. Public transportation is mediocre at best, and very poorly designed. The sports fans, in general, are not as great as the teams. They are too fair-weather, only showing support when the teams are winning championships. Less superficially, both the actual danger and the perception of danger in urban areas are significant negatives.
4. Do you feel a sense of community in Los Angeles? If so, what unites the people? If not, what are the sources of division?
There is a definite sense of community in Los Angeles. Part of it comes from the variety of the people. In many places, variety drives people apart, but in Los Angeles the people seem to have molded their own, new culture out of a combination of all the background traditions of each person living here. The people of Los Angeles are most united by the fact that they know you have to live here and appreciate this place in order to understand it.
5. If someone you knew was moving to Los Angeles, what advice would you give him/her?
The first thing I would tell her is to buy a reliable, high gas mileage automobile. Never underestimate the importance of that. Also, on a more philosophical level, I would tell her to try and keep her mind as free and open as I believe Los Angeles is. Don't try to pin the place down or quickly define it without spending a good amount of time here. The whole Hollywood thing is overblown, and a lot of people new to the area make the mistake of thinking Hollywood is all there is.
6. How do you see Los Angeles in 50 years? What are your hopes for L.A.? What are your fears?
50 years is a really long time... by that time, Los Angeles could be the capital of Mexico, Canada, or China for that matter. I'm not sure where I see myself in 50 years. In the future, I see downtown becoming more of a social destination especially as it is beginning to be cleaned up. I see many of the urban areas, that have been given up on, returning to neighborhoods and communities again. My fear for LA is that the common culture that all of the people here have created gets eroded by political correctness. I'm afraid of the possibility of the city losing its openness if the people turn away from what unites them. My hope for LA is that all of the great things about this city only get stronger, and the people are able to fix the weaknesses. I hope that Los Angeles installs a new, efficient public transportation system that is well-designed, perhaps a monorail, so that the one big negative is eliminated once and for all.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Update
Hello again! It has been a long time. Summer is coming, Memorial Day weekend is over, and the Lakers meet the defending champion Spurs in San Antonio tonight for Game 4 of the NBA's Western Conference Finals. My life has been busy as of late, also. As some may know, I've been dealing with some health issues for the past year or so. Recently, there were some minor complications that took my focus away from my work. The good news is that I have decided the key to healing is to carry on with my life undeterred, so I have begun to do that.
Admittedly, there has been some added stress at first and while I find adversity inspires my creative side, that only comes after I digest events. The well of ideas tends to dry up during the moment of stress itself. However, my droughts are usually followed by floods, and so I have kept myself immersed in the arts, as I love to do: reading the second installment of Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle, watching things like the film Molière and series LOST, and listening to music from The Shins and Damien Rice. I'm looking forward to the time, hopefully inevitable, in which I continue creating my own art.
I have made one change to the blog which you can see in the right hand column. I just recently began using Twitter. It's pretty amazing, and interestingly, it's a technological advance designed to simplify communication. Anyway, you can find me on the web site under "jtmurphy” or simply check this blog from time to time as the Twitter Updates are synced live. Since it has been such a long time, I'm posting a special treat... the rough draft opening of my latest project. The working title is: Body & Soul. Enjoy!
Guillo sits in his apartment, looking through the tree outside of his huge picture window into the sky. In his eyes, he looks far away from his setting, but he snaps back into focus in an instant. He then picks up his paintbrush, selects the appropriate shade of blue from his acrylics, and continues filling in the sky above his jungle scene. Guillo's canvas is situated in front of that south facing window and next to the east wall. On the canvas is the scene, where green dominates. Sky filters in at the top only, then the green begins very lightly and then progressively becomes darker and denser all the way to the jungle floor. Trees and leaves and all manner of plants fill the background, everything green. The yellowed circle of leaves in the foreground's center, then, draws the eye to the action of the piece. A black panther is out in the open, looking forward to a place not pictured. Viewing the painting, she would be staring off to the left. On her back is a curious creature, a bright blue parrot with a large beak. He faces the opposite direction looking behind her, checking out the path they came from, although that is also not pictured. The painting is almost finished, but the details that are left are the most important.
Quickly, Guillo finishes up his sky and stares blankly at the un-detailed parts of his animals and jungle. His face squeezes in a perplexed moment, and he puts down his paintbrush. Then, he draws in a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and looks up. This is his favorite corner of the large studio apartment his parents bought for him three years ago. Although, to call it a studio is a gross understatement as the space is more like an open dance hall. The southeast corner is where Guillo works. Each one of his paintings, now highly acclaimed, was done right here.
Admittedly, there has been some added stress at first and while I find adversity inspires my creative side, that only comes after I digest events. The well of ideas tends to dry up during the moment of stress itself. However, my droughts are usually followed by floods, and so I have kept myself immersed in the arts, as I love to do: reading the second installment of Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle, watching things like the film Molière and series LOST, and listening to music from The Shins and Damien Rice. I'm looking forward to the time, hopefully inevitable, in which I continue creating my own art.
I have made one change to the blog which you can see in the right hand column. I just recently began using Twitter. It's pretty amazing, and interestingly, it's a technological advance designed to simplify communication. Anyway, you can find me on the web site under "jtmurphy” or simply check this blog from time to time as the Twitter Updates are synced live. Since it has been such a long time, I'm posting a special treat... the rough draft opening of my latest project. The working title is: Body & Soul. Enjoy!
Guillo sits in his apartment, looking through the tree outside of his huge picture window into the sky. In his eyes, he looks far away from his setting, but he snaps back into focus in an instant. He then picks up his paintbrush, selects the appropriate shade of blue from his acrylics, and continues filling in the sky above his jungle scene. Guillo's canvas is situated in front of that south facing window and next to the east wall. On the canvas is the scene, where green dominates. Sky filters in at the top only, then the green begins very lightly and then progressively becomes darker and denser all the way to the jungle floor. Trees and leaves and all manner of plants fill the background, everything green. The yellowed circle of leaves in the foreground's center, then, draws the eye to the action of the piece. A black panther is out in the open, looking forward to a place not pictured. Viewing the painting, she would be staring off to the left. On her back is a curious creature, a bright blue parrot with a large beak. He faces the opposite direction looking behind her, checking out the path they came from, although that is also not pictured. The painting is almost finished, but the details that are left are the most important.
Quickly, Guillo finishes up his sky and stares blankly at the un-detailed parts of his animals and jungle. His face squeezes in a perplexed moment, and he puts down his paintbrush. Then, he draws in a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and looks up. This is his favorite corner of the large studio apartment his parents bought for him three years ago. Although, to call it a studio is a gross understatement as the space is more like an open dance hall. The southeast corner is where Guillo works. Each one of his paintings, now highly acclaimed, was done right here.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Don't Tread On Me
Some words in support of John Adams, the highly acclaimed HBO miniseries (my previous HBO recommendation, John from Cincinnati, didn't fare as well). The series is fantastic, presented with an epic scope and a real eye toward authenticity. The camera work features unique shots that only occasionally distract from the scene. Often times, they are integral in establishing the mood of a particular episode. The music is unbelievable. The scale of it completely swept me away from the opening sequence onward. Hearing it, I truly felt as if I was in the midst of a time that surely must have felt revolutionary in all respects.
The show is most certainly stolen by actress Laura Linney, who portrays Abigail Adams. Of course, it is the actor's job to mimic or approximate the accent, speech patterns, and mannerisms of its subject. Linney's mastery is in putting it all together and never faltering. This is apparent from the first scene including Mrs. Adams. Sure, people will talk about her opposition to slavery (and my history is not good enough to know if this is the truth or a politically correct anachronism). Critics will applaud the behind-the-scenes power wielded by a woman with such grace and responsibility.
The most important & remarkable aspect of her character, however, is how she would not let Mr. Adams allow his vanity and know-it-all nature overtake his duty to his country. She called him on his crap, and Mr. Adams wouldn't have it any other way. Paul Giamatti, as John Adams himself, gives the second-best performance. That is by no means an insult, only a testament to the talent of his on-screen love. Giamatti presents a fantastically real founding father, decaying teeth and all. He is vain, outspoken, rude, intelligent, a pessimist, loyal, brave, jealous, easily angered, a man with tremendous integrity, hard-working, and a patriot who loves his country. One thing the story is not, no one whitewashes the history of John Adams. This is a watercolor.
As executive producer, Tom Hanks gave us another winner. I recommend this series to anyone, but most especially to those who enjoyed Band of Brothers. This is not an indication of the content of the show, but rather the undoubtedly exhaustive efforts to bring us as close as possible to realism. The two series are also similar in theme. While the World War II epic is more specifically direct, both dramas are about exceptional individuals sacrificing for the good of their country.
I found it remarkable that John Adams made it so easy to think about the human face on this revolution. Today, we think of many of the people and institutions involved almost as unchanging & divine entities. The Sons of Liberty & Samuel Adams banging the drums, Thomas Jefferson's complete commitment to developing on the philosophical theory of liberty, General Washington's humility, the framing of the Constitution, and the document itself; none of these things were certain to the people of the time including Adams who, as the show asserts, was very concerned with the manner in which posterity would receive them. It's amazing to envision a world where these things did not exist and then came into being.
That's just exactly what the makers of John Adams accomplished.
The show is most certainly stolen by actress Laura Linney, who portrays Abigail Adams. Of course, it is the actor's job to mimic or approximate the accent, speech patterns, and mannerisms of its subject. Linney's mastery is in putting it all together and never faltering. This is apparent from the first scene including Mrs. Adams. Sure, people will talk about her opposition to slavery (and my history is not good enough to know if this is the truth or a politically correct anachronism). Critics will applaud the behind-the-scenes power wielded by a woman with such grace and responsibility.
The most important & remarkable aspect of her character, however, is how she would not let Mr. Adams allow his vanity and know-it-all nature overtake his duty to his country. She called him on his crap, and Mr. Adams wouldn't have it any other way. Paul Giamatti, as John Adams himself, gives the second-best performance. That is by no means an insult, only a testament to the talent of his on-screen love. Giamatti presents a fantastically real founding father, decaying teeth and all. He is vain, outspoken, rude, intelligent, a pessimist, loyal, brave, jealous, easily angered, a man with tremendous integrity, hard-working, and a patriot who loves his country. One thing the story is not, no one whitewashes the history of John Adams. This is a watercolor.
As executive producer, Tom Hanks gave us another winner. I recommend this series to anyone, but most especially to those who enjoyed Band of Brothers. This is not an indication of the content of the show, but rather the undoubtedly exhaustive efforts to bring us as close as possible to realism. The two series are also similar in theme. While the World War II epic is more specifically direct, both dramas are about exceptional individuals sacrificing for the good of their country.
I found it remarkable that John Adams made it so easy to think about the human face on this revolution. Today, we think of many of the people and institutions involved almost as unchanging & divine entities. The Sons of Liberty & Samuel Adams banging the drums, Thomas Jefferson's complete commitment to developing on the philosophical theory of liberty, General Washington's humility, the framing of the Constitution, and the document itself; none of these things were certain to the people of the time including Adams who, as the show asserts, was very concerned with the manner in which posterity would receive them. It's amazing to envision a world where these things did not exist and then came into being.
That's just exactly what the makers of John Adams accomplished.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Downright Otherworldly
Note: This began as stream of consciousness fiction, but took on a little more planning. Let's call it extremely short fiction. For a blog entry, it's long.I'm at this concert with Lindsey. It is our third date and I am definitely hoping things will go well. Our first two dates were amazing, so I figure a little live entertainment is definitely the way to go tonight. The place is nice, intimate and warm. You enter from the street at the back of the building, where the bar is. In this area, as it should be, the bar is the focal point. It has been placed symmetrically between the two openings in the building. On one side is the entrance proper, and on the other is a short hallway that looks to lead to the kitchen. The walls are 100% red brick, but laid uneven in certain parts for a more natural feel. Various murals have been painted right into them.
The bar appears like a solid block of long, rounded cherry wood stained to a very dark and smooth finish. Simple stools with dark, leather cushions stand like pylons at the front of the bar awaiting the show. Behind the bar are all manner of spirits, liquor, wine & beer lined up in fancy bottles, below cabinets matching the cherry wood finish. The cabinet doors are made of glass, to display all of the novelty tumblers and glassware. The bar is essentially on a kind of wooden stage with a balcony fence and stairs on either side. Down four or so stairs are deep navy carpeted walkways surrounding the wood floor dining area consisting of about 30 small, round tables. In the very front is the stage, perfect for tonight's acoustic guitar performance.
Lindsey and I make small talk at a volume a little bit above a loud whisper. For a room of more than 60 people, the banter is surprisingly quiet. Toward the back, a few groups have pulled tables together, but couples like us are the majority. Some are eating the fair, light appetizers and salads, most are imbibing. On my suggestion, we went without a meal and both of us have a single glass of red wine, Cabernet. We're sitting in the front.
She looks unbelievable, wearing sandals with newly manicured toes (from what I can tell about female grooming), her nicer, dark jeans, and a simple, white halterneck that complements her slightly tanned skin. Lindsey has her blonde hair down, thrown over one shoulder. She knows what she's doing. This is a wink to me, because of what I said the other...
As I was looking into Lindsey's grey-blue eyes telling her another one of my goofy jokes she loves, I noticed the old man looking at me from the table behind her. There's something about him, I'm not sure. I must have stopped my joke in midsentence because she still has that geeky smile I like, waiting in anticipation for the punchline. Then she asks me what's wrong, but the old man holds my gaze. I don't know what it is. Now, Lindsey is looking at him, transfixed.
He is very old. Completely bald on the top of his head, with incredibly smooth skin, he has long silver hair to his shoulders. He smiles. Both of us, I believe, start feeling very happy at this. With that, the man stands. He's tall, about 6'4" and lanky. He deftly grabs one of the chairs at his table and, with a sweep of his long arm and a quick stride, is seated at our table in moments. He greets us, I'm sure. He speaks mostly to Linds, and I hear him & I understand, but I don't know his words. The speech is harmonic. From what I can tell, it conveys more through tone and movement and expression than through words.
I begin to admire the man's features, and I notice something peculiar. It's his ears. They're large, of course. But, ever so slightly, and just subtly enough that most passers-by wouldn't care to notice, the ears are pointed. In fact, the longer I stare, the more distinctive they become. But then he's looking at me, smiling. He knows me. We haven't met before, but there is warmth between us, like two friends, brothers even, who survive a calamity. Maybe one brother saved the other. Just as quickly as he met us, the man is back to his own table. Strange.
I look to Lindsey who acts like the Cheshire cat. I ask her what he said and I sense something different about her in the response. She is speaking harmonically, also, but her words come through, like hearing something new for the first time in your all-time favorite song. You know the lyrics but the melody is just somehow different. Linds tells me that the musician we came to see is called Thomas Reynard and that we're in for a real treat. There's more that she isn't telling me. Something about me, it must be. She beams at me when she thinks I'm not looking. Something good, at least. Can't do me any harm to just let it be, so that's what I do.
As I'm back to admiring her, I notice that her skin is getting more tan, but then I look up to see the lights dimming. The show is starting. The whole place quiets. The whole place is dark. I hear one of the doors open at the front of the place, opposite our end. Footsteps now, I can barely make them out, but I hear footsteps. Lindsey puts her hand on mine to tell me to turn so I can see him. He is coming down the walkway closest to us. I am amazed.
Reynard is tiny. Maybe 5'5" if he combs his long, brown hair right, he has complete command of the room despite that. As he approaches the stage, I notice something peculiar. He is barefoot, walking heel to toe naturally. His features are remarkably pronounced. Reynard's small body is adorned with long arms and hands of spindly fingers. His face seems older than his years, wrinkled under the eyes from concentration & exhaustion and around the mouth from excessive smiling & laughter. His nose is long, but not oversized like his ears. His eyes are huge and greenish-brown, the kind that change in the light.
My experience now tells me to observe Reynard like a hawk. I don't hear him introduced or the spirited applause he receives until Lindsey takes her hand from mine to clap, herself. With his guitar in his left hand, Thomas waves to the audience with his right. As he sits down, he nods to the old man who responds in kind, bowing his head in respect. Reynard plays.
No song has lyrics. The emotions from them are stronger. Thomas plays in a way that makes you feel as if you're only seeing one small portion of a greater masterpiece. The feeling is palpable that certain rhythms and melodies are flying over us just as others are being received. The only audience participation is the assumption that jaws are on the floor. Each element, arrangement even, amidst a song causes various reactions. They are all joyful. Lindsey and I are amazed, together. She now has a firm grip on my hand, and mine back to hers. At different points during the performance one of us gives a squeeze. It is pure excitement.
This is downright otherworldly. I could swear as I look back toward the bar that those bar stools are swaying in time to the music. But that is nothing. The murals on the walls have come to life. Several shape notes, painted into the red brick in bright colors, dance across the ether above us and trade places between the two walls. On one wall is the mascot of the establishment: an elephant on a trampoline. As sure as Lindsey is beautiful, that elephant is doing backflips and dance moves on that trampoline. And last, behind Thomas Reynard, the grand mural of the stage has become three-dimensional. It looks almost like he is literally playing on a televised beach performance.
A feeling like this is nearly impossible to describe, but Reynard onstage is the icing on the cake. It is as if the music moves through him and down his arms and into his fingers and onto the strings and out from the guitar. He dances as a vessel possessed by its cargo, moving in time from a straight-up posture to that of a deep bow forward and back again. Each time, he leans back and stretches far, throwing his head back with his lips pursed and his eyes closed. The eyes, though, are rolled back in a dreamlike state. I picture him simply envisioning the notes and causing his fingers to respond instantly. It is a sight to behold.
Finally, Reynard closes the show and then plays his encore, bringing the audience to his true height. At the very end, out of the corner of my eye, I see that old man get up and dance around his own table faster than I've ever seen a person move. Show over, lights up, and Reynard staying to speak with audience members, Linds and I just look at each other. I think this date is a hit.
Gradually, after the shock and amazement of the incredible show begins to wear off, the specifics fade into our memories, and we regain our conversation. The old man is over with Reynard, saying goodbye, as I can tell. The man leaves, leaving us with a simple wink of his warm eyes. Soon after, Reynard walks by smiling genuinely, and looks us both in the eye. We can only smile. As he brushes his hair back, I notice it: a long, pointed ear.
As we get ready to leave, I ask Lindsey, "So, what did the old man say about me?"
She looks at me like she has good news.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Once Music is mystical
Music seems to be very mystical. I'm always astounded by the way it can fill an otherwise still room with the most vivid, nearly tangible emotions. Depending on which emotion it is, the style of music can transport us to another place, it can cause us to change shape, or even disappear. At its best, it can take the musicians creating it and transform them into one organism.
If we reduce music down to its elements, those being (for our purposes) sound, rhythm, melody and harmony, we can see how it relates right down to the very basics of our humanity. We need life, first and foremost, which is kept thriving by the cycles in nature and governed by the order of the universe. Most every entity is greater than the sum of its parts. This is especially true for human beings. A human being, soulful and alive, is all those processes physical, mental, & emotional working in concert. The pieces are useless alone, and yet something is still missing within the mechanism of the pieces together. Music is still just a theory in this stage. It takes something more transcendent to bring music out of the void.
Creativity.
Something spiritual is necessary here. It is a giving and receiving. Just as I pointed out how music transforms a group of musicians into an entity, they must first create and nourish this thing before it gives back to them. The essence is out there, always. We give it form.
I saw Once for the second time this morning and can certainly say it is another favorite, a new favorite, of mine. It will be hard for any film to top Into the Wild for its depth of meaning as it relates to my life. But Once comes as close to that meaning as I can expect. I love, love, love how John Carney juxtaposes the down-and-out natures of the lives of both Guy & Girl with the purity and heights reached by the music they make together. This is an example of sublimation at its finest. Girl, while incredibly well-adjusted, is the picture of functional destitution. She is very poor but makes enough to feed her daughter & mother. Guy, while quite secure financially, is bereft of all social graces and romanticism. He has everything he needs, save for a crucial kick in the pants that is now necessary after losing his lover. Together in music, the Girl and the Guy live out their ideal selves in their ideal lives.
If we reduce music down to its elements, those being (for our purposes) sound, rhythm, melody and harmony, we can see how it relates right down to the very basics of our humanity. We need life, first and foremost, which is kept thriving by the cycles in nature and governed by the order of the universe. Most every entity is greater than the sum of its parts. This is especially true for human beings. A human being, soulful and alive, is all those processes physical, mental, & emotional working in concert. The pieces are useless alone, and yet something is still missing within the mechanism of the pieces together. Music is still just a theory in this stage. It takes something more transcendent to bring music out of the void.
Creativity.
Something spiritual is necessary here. It is a giving and receiving. Just as I pointed out how music transforms a group of musicians into an entity, they must first create and nourish this thing before it gives back to them. The essence is out there, always. We give it form.
I saw Once for the second time this morning and can certainly say it is another favorite, a new favorite, of mine. It will be hard for any film to top Into the Wild for its depth of meaning as it relates to my life. But Once comes as close to that meaning as I can expect. I love, love, love how John Carney juxtaposes the down-and-out natures of the lives of both Guy & Girl with the purity and heights reached by the music they make together. This is an example of sublimation at its finest. Girl, while incredibly well-adjusted, is the picture of functional destitution. She is very poor but makes enough to feed her daughter & mother. Guy, while quite secure financially, is bereft of all social graces and romanticism. He has everything he needs, save for a crucial kick in the pants that is now necessary after losing his lover. Together in music, the Girl and the Guy live out their ideal selves in their ideal lives.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Ireland Forever
A quick entry today, in commemoration of St. Patrick's Day 2008. It has always made me uneasy to think of myself as being defined by the geographical location of my ancestors' birth. At the same time, however, I cannot deny having a particular affinity for all things Irish. I have always felt that one of the greatest mistakes an American can make is to not realize they are an American. I love who I am and I wouldn't have it any other way. While it may be literally true in this case, I don't think the grass is greener on the other side, figuratively speaking.
However, when I hear those familiar melodies of traditional Irish folk music, I feel a deep connection inside to all those people and all those events that contributed to putting me where I am. I cannot deny that the Irish fiddle & flute and the Uilleann pipes strike a chord within me. I envision some kind of cinematic flyover across the ocean as the mist and clouds give way to lush, green fields appearing right before my eyes. Admittedly, it's a grand, romanticized vision, but it's mine nonetheless. Perhaps certain traditions from certain cultures do that for all of us.
Whatever it is, it is a blessing to be a part of, and as I learn more and more, the connections between the me of today and my ancestors of the past become eerie. After all, my family name means: "sea warrior".
All best.
EDITOR'S NOTE: Soon, I'll be doing a full write-up of my impressions of the film, INTO THE WILD, which I give my highest recommendation. See it in the very near future, if you can. I don't want to spoil anything for those who are looking forward to it.
However, when I hear those familiar melodies of traditional Irish folk music, I feel a deep connection inside to all those people and all those events that contributed to putting me where I am. I cannot deny that the Irish fiddle & flute and the Uilleann pipes strike a chord within me. I envision some kind of cinematic flyover across the ocean as the mist and clouds give way to lush, green fields appearing right before my eyes. Admittedly, it's a grand, romanticized vision, but it's mine nonetheless. Perhaps certain traditions from certain cultures do that for all of us.
Whatever it is, it is a blessing to be a part of, and as I learn more and more, the connections between the me of today and my ancestors of the past become eerie. After all, my family name means: "sea warrior".
All best.
EDITOR'S NOTE: Soon, I'll be doing a full write-up of my impressions of the film, INTO THE WILD, which I give my highest recommendation. See it in the very near future, if you can. I don't want to spoil anything for those who are looking forward to it.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Strength, perception & reality
Just by reading this blog, someone may find it odd that I write this: perception is very important. It has a major effect on all of us in many of the things we do. Expectations are closely related with perception. Psychologically, our expectations of certain results have quite an impact on whether or not they will occur. Of course I believe that getting caught up in how other people might judge me is a bad idea. But, I also know that the best probability I have of projecting a certain image of myself is to perceive myself that way first. If I do that, and if I expect that of myself, chances are I will go beyond perception and actually be that way. Funny how that works.
A common problem for many PWDs (i.e. people with disabilities) occurs socially within dating. Often, these people have issues with getting others to acknowledge them as sexual beings. Quads and paraplegics have to convince others that their bodies still work, albeit differently. A woman must overcome the external impression that she is being taken advantage of. Surprisingly, these issues are often self-imposed as these PWDs are simply worried that the able-bodied individuals they meet are thinking this way when, in reality, many of them are not. It can be very difficult to figure out how to project a date-able image to others.
The first step in this specific problem is for those affected to make an internal adjustment on their impressions of themselves. I went through this exact thing, myself, and it is frustrating. I remember fighting the urge to tell a woman I had just met that, well, you know. The uncertainty and the patience required are difficult to get used to, and it is difficult. Most social situations do not make it easy to get your point across without acting inappropriately. I had to understand that I could only control what I could control. To project myself as a sexual being, I had to perceive it that way, and then leave the outside perceptions up to everyone else.
Eventually, I made my adjustment and I learned the same patience for that scenario as I did for any other. The major roadblock for anyone in that situation is body acceptance. For as long as I can remember, I had a major phobia of a tracheostomy. I can honestly say that I would get emotional just thinking about the potential of me having one. I had the strength to overcome every other change in my appearance, but it took me years and years to accept what that might bring should I ever decide to get one. I did it, though, and the strength it took made the rest pale in comparison.
This has been a good thing for me, as I realize I will need someone extra extra special. So that means I'll get to meet someone extra extra special. My approach to this stuff is essentially my approach to everything else. I think we all need to be strong at some point in our lives. In order to do that, however, we must be able to feel strong. It's kind of an obvious "2+2" thing, but how can we ever have strength when we need it if we don't think we can feel strong?
I've always had powers of observation, and I've been able to maximize my understanding of a thing through a limited amount of experience with it. I have looked down the barrel enough times to realize that I am a very strong person. When I go through things now, or think about potential experiences, I am able to tell myself in good faith that I know I will be able to face it. But there's no substitute for the real thing, and my faith in myself is strongest after I survive literally. It doesn't matter what I survive, just that I survive.
I believe that my adventures are a prime example of how perception and reality depend on one another. To really find myself in an optimal position, I cannot allow myself to be ruled only by the way things are, at the moment. However, in order to remain grounded, I must be vigilant as to how much stock I put into perception, from within and without. On the flip side, my goals will be achieved only when I have the courage to first perceive, and then to be, the thing that I want to be.
A common problem for many PWDs (i.e. people with disabilities) occurs socially within dating. Often, these people have issues with getting others to acknowledge them as sexual beings. Quads and paraplegics have to convince others that their bodies still work, albeit differently. A woman must overcome the external impression that she is being taken advantage of. Surprisingly, these issues are often self-imposed as these PWDs are simply worried that the able-bodied individuals they meet are thinking this way when, in reality, many of them are not. It can be very difficult to figure out how to project a date-able image to others.
The first step in this specific problem is for those affected to make an internal adjustment on their impressions of themselves. I went through this exact thing, myself, and it is frustrating. I remember fighting the urge to tell a woman I had just met that, well, you know. The uncertainty and the patience required are difficult to get used to, and it is difficult. Most social situations do not make it easy to get your point across without acting inappropriately. I had to understand that I could only control what I could control. To project myself as a sexual being, I had to perceive it that way, and then leave the outside perceptions up to everyone else.
Eventually, I made my adjustment and I learned the same patience for that scenario as I did for any other. The major roadblock for anyone in that situation is body acceptance. For as long as I can remember, I had a major phobia of a tracheostomy. I can honestly say that I would get emotional just thinking about the potential of me having one. I had the strength to overcome every other change in my appearance, but it took me years and years to accept what that might bring should I ever decide to get one. I did it, though, and the strength it took made the rest pale in comparison.
This has been a good thing for me, as I realize I will need someone extra extra special. So that means I'll get to meet someone extra extra special. My approach to this stuff is essentially my approach to everything else. I think we all need to be strong at some point in our lives. In order to do that, however, we must be able to feel strong. It's kind of an obvious "2+2" thing, but how can we ever have strength when we need it if we don't think we can feel strong?
I've always had powers of observation, and I've been able to maximize my understanding of a thing through a limited amount of experience with it. I have looked down the barrel enough times to realize that I am a very strong person. When I go through things now, or think about potential experiences, I am able to tell myself in good faith that I know I will be able to face it. But there's no substitute for the real thing, and my faith in myself is strongest after I survive literally. It doesn't matter what I survive, just that I survive.
I believe that my adventures are a prime example of how perception and reality depend on one another. To really find myself in an optimal position, I cannot allow myself to be ruled only by the way things are, at the moment. However, in order to remain grounded, I must be vigilant as to how much stock I put into perception, from within and without. On the flip side, my goals will be achieved only when I have the courage to first perceive, and then to be, the thing that I want to be.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Travel
Most people enjoy a good trip. In some way or another, travel holds appeal for almost everyone. Some people are all about the destination, so they just want to get wherever they're going. Others actually enjoy the journey and include it as a part of the experience. That debate is for another time. Both approaches are encompassed by the concept of travel.
People travel for many reasons, viz.: meditation, vacation, to settle or relocate, for political reasons, to visit others, or just for fun. Trips vary in length and scope, from sailing around the world right down to a day-trip in a car. When I think about my desire to travel, my thoughts always center on one important question.
Am I traveling to escape my world or to expand my world?
In my mind, it is a critical distinction. Any of the aforementioned reasons can be an expansion or an escape. I always think about spiritual retreats, which can either be very good for my daily life, or very bad. Remembering past retreats that I've taken, my most vivid memory is the silence, the peaceful silence. I can't help but refocus my mind almost the instant I step into an environment like that. I make observations about myself, and resolve to change some things while strengthening others.
A good meditation like that does not only learn lessons, but formulates a plan for applying those lessons to daily action. However, sometimes things don't work out as planned, and the retreat simply becomes an escape. I return to the noise of the everyday world and revert back to my everyday self. Sometimes the lessons learned actually make the negative things even worse. They become louder because I was only escaping them.
So it is with travel. It seems patently obvious, but I think sometimes we forget that we are, in fact, bringing ourselves along on the trip. There's no escaping that. I believe that there is an implicit assumption that if we go out into worlds undiscovered, so too will we discover new parts to ourselves, or maybe even a whole new self! Fortunately (in my view), there is no other self waiting for us on the other side of the world.
In fact, those parts of ourselves that we're wishing so dearly for are always there, no matter how deeply buried, regardless of what landmark or mountain range or body of water we're looking at in that moment. Personally, I would much rather find my true self at home and then take that self out to see the wonders of the world, for when I return, I can bring it all back with me. This is the beauty of using travel to expand my world.
When I go forth with all the baggage that makes me who I am -- with the realization that, while I am changed by every experience, no one experience will define me -- I also get to come back with all the new things I learned, memories made, and places made known. The fog of war lifts, and these experiences become a part of the world for me. This makes it easy to channel my lessons into application.
And that is the most important part of the travel. It is ridiculously easy for me to come upon new thoughts about life and say that I believe certain things or that I will do certain actions in a given situation. What is much harder, and much more important, is standing by those beliefs and having the fortitude to do those actions when the situation arises.
Nothing gets left behind.
People travel for many reasons, viz.: meditation, vacation, to settle or relocate, for political reasons, to visit others, or just for fun. Trips vary in length and scope, from sailing around the world right down to a day-trip in a car. When I think about my desire to travel, my thoughts always center on one important question.
Am I traveling to escape my world or to expand my world?
In my mind, it is a critical distinction. Any of the aforementioned reasons can be an expansion or an escape. I always think about spiritual retreats, which can either be very good for my daily life, or very bad. Remembering past retreats that I've taken, my most vivid memory is the silence, the peaceful silence. I can't help but refocus my mind almost the instant I step into an environment like that. I make observations about myself, and resolve to change some things while strengthening others.
A good meditation like that does not only learn lessons, but formulates a plan for applying those lessons to daily action. However, sometimes things don't work out as planned, and the retreat simply becomes an escape. I return to the noise of the everyday world and revert back to my everyday self. Sometimes the lessons learned actually make the negative things even worse. They become louder because I was only escaping them.
So it is with travel. It seems patently obvious, but I think sometimes we forget that we are, in fact, bringing ourselves along on the trip. There's no escaping that. I believe that there is an implicit assumption that if we go out into worlds undiscovered, so too will we discover new parts to ourselves, or maybe even a whole new self! Fortunately (in my view), there is no other self waiting for us on the other side of the world.
In fact, those parts of ourselves that we're wishing so dearly for are always there, no matter how deeply buried, regardless of what landmark or mountain range or body of water we're looking at in that moment. Personally, I would much rather find my true self at home and then take that self out to see the wonders of the world, for when I return, I can bring it all back with me. This is the beauty of using travel to expand my world.
When I go forth with all the baggage that makes me who I am -- with the realization that, while I am changed by every experience, no one experience will define me -- I also get to come back with all the new things I learned, memories made, and places made known. The fog of war lifts, and these experiences become a part of the world for me. This makes it easy to channel my lessons into application.
And that is the most important part of the travel. It is ridiculously easy for me to come upon new thoughts about life and say that I believe certain things or that I will do certain actions in a given situation. What is much harder, and much more important, is standing by those beliefs and having the fortitude to do those actions when the situation arises.
Nothing gets left behind.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Blinded -- Part 2
The salt air was pungently refreshing, almost to the point of distraction. He had been blind for a while now, but he needed to focus on listening. Every "click-click" of his walking stick told him that he could continue in a straight line. Any sort of a muffled thud meant he was veering off the concrete and onto the sand. Eventually, he hoped his ears would become sensitive enough to allow him free rein of the entire beach. Now, however, he had to concentrate.
He waved the walking stick side to side in wide strokes as he walked swiftly. A slow gait made the stick useless, he learned, especially if dumb luck could get you there faster. So he became a roving, human radar, walking parallel to the shore but several hundred yards back. The man heard only the movement of the surf in between the clicks of his metronome. Finally, there was a sharp "thwack!" He had reached the first leg of the first wooden bench along the walk. At this point, he turned and faced straight out toward the water.
As usual, they arranged to meet 20 strides from that bench. The man noticed that he was starting to make those strides longer on the days he knew she would be there. However, that wasn't the biggest thing he noticed about himself on that day.
For the first time in a long time, he smiled for no reason. Then he heard the laugh. It was good-natured. The woman's laugh had a tone in it that was genuine, never demeaning. Her laugh was friendly. It was warm, and sweet. The man continued forward a couple of steps and he could feel the sand sink down under his feet differently than it had before. It moved more cohesively, sort of as one unit. He realized he was standing on her blanket.
"It's good to see you smiling," she said. "Come, sit you down."
As he proceeded to sit down, the man said, "Sun's setting."
"Perceptive..." She giggled, again good-naturedly, but with an implicit question.
"The pick-up in the wind is obvious, even to you," he responded, "but there's also a swell in the noise of the birds and the warmth of the sun strikes us differently, lower on our cheeks."
"You know you're right," she said, "I can hear the birds and feel the sun."
"Hard to believe it, but I enjoy the beach more, now that I'm blind, than I used to."
"I knew you would."
"You get up right by the shore break, and you can smell that smell and feel that mist on your face, and then the water slides under your toes and you can feel the sand all around them and squish them into it."
"Just wait 'til we get you swimming!"
"One thing at a time, my dear," he said with a smile. "I'm smiling for no reason and enjoying the pleasure of nature for its own sake... take your victory."
"Oh, twist my arm."
"I'll bet this is some sunset."
"It's going to be beautiful."
"I can just see that orangey-yellow sun, clear as day."
"How wonderful it is, now, knowing what a sunset at the beach means."
Sometime later, with the ocean a deep shade of blue and light sprinkling off of it, pink clouds breaking up the vivid sky, the sun began its final descent. The woman described every bit of it to the man, just as he asked. They laid together on their beach blanket, with his arm over her shoulder and her head on his chest. The waves crashed and the wind swirled. The salt continued to fill the air and the birds continued to sing. Both of them kept their faces pointed toward the sun, to feel its warmth and anticipate the last images of its setting.
Finally, the sun did set while they continued to enjoy the peaceful feeling.
He asked, "Do you think I'll ever be glad this happened?"
"We'll get there," she said. "Remember, it's one victory at a time."
He waved the walking stick side to side in wide strokes as he walked swiftly. A slow gait made the stick useless, he learned, especially if dumb luck could get you there faster. So he became a roving, human radar, walking parallel to the shore but several hundred yards back. The man heard only the movement of the surf in between the clicks of his metronome. Finally, there was a sharp "thwack!" He had reached the first leg of the first wooden bench along the walk. At this point, he turned and faced straight out toward the water.
As usual, they arranged to meet 20 strides from that bench. The man noticed that he was starting to make those strides longer on the days he knew she would be there. However, that wasn't the biggest thing he noticed about himself on that day.
For the first time in a long time, he smiled for no reason. Then he heard the laugh. It was good-natured. The woman's laugh had a tone in it that was genuine, never demeaning. Her laugh was friendly. It was warm, and sweet. The man continued forward a couple of steps and he could feel the sand sink down under his feet differently than it had before. It moved more cohesively, sort of as one unit. He realized he was standing on her blanket.
"It's good to see you smiling," she said. "Come, sit you down."
As he proceeded to sit down, the man said, "Sun's setting."
"Perceptive..." She giggled, again good-naturedly, but with an implicit question.
"The pick-up in the wind is obvious, even to you," he responded, "but there's also a swell in the noise of the birds and the warmth of the sun strikes us differently, lower on our cheeks."
"You know you're right," she said, "I can hear the birds and feel the sun."
"Hard to believe it, but I enjoy the beach more, now that I'm blind, than I used to."
"I knew you would."
"You get up right by the shore break, and you can smell that smell and feel that mist on your face, and then the water slides under your toes and you can feel the sand all around them and squish them into it."
"Just wait 'til we get you swimming!"
"One thing at a time, my dear," he said with a smile. "I'm smiling for no reason and enjoying the pleasure of nature for its own sake... take your victory."
"Oh, twist my arm."
"I'll bet this is some sunset."
"It's going to be beautiful."
"I can just see that orangey-yellow sun, clear as day."
"How wonderful it is, now, knowing what a sunset at the beach means."
Sometime later, with the ocean a deep shade of blue and light sprinkling off of it, pink clouds breaking up the vivid sky, the sun began its final descent. The woman described every bit of it to the man, just as he asked. They laid together on their beach blanket, with his arm over her shoulder and her head on his chest. The waves crashed and the wind swirled. The salt continued to fill the air and the birds continued to sing. Both of them kept their faces pointed toward the sun, to feel its warmth and anticipate the last images of its setting.
Finally, the sun did set while they continued to enjoy the peaceful feeling.
He asked, "Do you think I'll ever be glad this happened?"
"We'll get there," she said. "Remember, it's one victory at a time."
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Blinded -- Part 1
This man drove a certain long and winding road often. It was the quicker route between work and home. He pushed through it as fast as possible whenever he took it. His eyes would dart from windshield to rearview mirror, checking every car on the road, and he frequently reminded himself to look to the lane of oncoming cars so he had as many opportunities as possible to use it to pass anything slowing him down. He used his eyes to change the radio station. He used them to check his cell phone. He never used them to look at the surrounding countryside, or the beach at the far end of the largest bend in the highway.
The man knew this road would take him where he wanted to go, but he never knew where he was when he took it. He never bothered to learn his way. For all practical purposes, he was lost, but he figured GPS and his cell and his auto club membership would get him out of any snags. That was until he totaled his car. It happened at the beginning of the largest bend, with the sun just beginning to set. The light affected his eyes, but not his accelerator. The man had come from a bad day at work, the other drivers were too slow, and he'd had enough. The bright, orangey-yellow sun was the last thing he ever saw. He never saw the oncoming pickup truck. It was head-on. The survival of both drivers was, in a word, miraculous. However, the man's windshield shattered.
His eyes were peppered with tiny shards of broken glass. They were beyond the help of medicine. From then on, he would be called the blind man wherever he went. The darkness that consumed his sight was an easy metaphor for the way his life turned. In typical fashion, the calamity caused a man who had everything to lose everything. He drank to cope with his blindness and it cost him his job. He drank more. Financial and alcohol issues put a strain on his marriage. His despair broke it. He drank more.
Finally, when the man was evicted from his apartment, his friends and family had a reason to step in. He quickly drove them away. It was fortunate, for his sake, that they started him on therapy even quicker. Oh, he had no use for the free clinic shrink, for sure, but it was one of those right place, right time experiences.
The woman was a little too New Age and extroverted for his liking, but it was a good thing because women like that couldn't care less. If people were bothered by this woman being apt to make the first move, she certainly wasn't bothered by them. He felt her sit down in the seat immediately next to his.
"I hate it when people assume," she started, "so... are you blind?"
His smile was dripping sarcasm before he spoke. "What gave it away? Maybe it was these sunglasses, or possibly this giant candy cane I'm holding."
"Actually, it was your feet," she said. "They're pointed toward the exit. I'm guessing you wouldn't be caught dead here unless you were waiting to go into an appointment."
"I'm not really into all this psychiatric... stuff." With that, he pointed his feet in the other direction.
"The worst part is anticipation. We're subconsciously drawn to look toward the thing we need to be ready for, and then we point our feet."
"So you know this stuff pretty well. You're a doctor then?"
"Nope," the woman said, "the only ones who know about anticipation are the patients."
"You're a patient."
"Aren't I well-adjusted?"
"Very," he said. "Why do you have to keep coming here?"
"Because I'm honest," she said. "I used to hallucinate. I don't any more, but I talk freely about spirituality and it makes them nervous."
"You don't want to convert me, do you?"
She grinned brightly and asked, "To what?"
"I don't know."
"I'm able to... see things, y'know, in people."
"But I thought," he paused, shifted in his seat, and continued, "I thought you said you don't hallucinate any more."
"Maybe I should say, 'feel things.' But you speak to my point... these doctors here don't see the difference between delusion and belief."
"Is there a difference?"
"Of course there is." The woman said this with a sweet sincerity that made things not quite so serious for the man.
"I'd say you're pretty optimistic," the man responded.
"I am!"
The man knew this road would take him where he wanted to go, but he never knew where he was when he took it. He never bothered to learn his way. For all practical purposes, he was lost, but he figured GPS and his cell and his auto club membership would get him out of any snags. That was until he totaled his car. It happened at the beginning of the largest bend, with the sun just beginning to set. The light affected his eyes, but not his accelerator. The man had come from a bad day at work, the other drivers were too slow, and he'd had enough. The bright, orangey-yellow sun was the last thing he ever saw. He never saw the oncoming pickup truck. It was head-on. The survival of both drivers was, in a word, miraculous. However, the man's windshield shattered.
His eyes were peppered with tiny shards of broken glass. They were beyond the help of medicine. From then on, he would be called the blind man wherever he went. The darkness that consumed his sight was an easy metaphor for the way his life turned. In typical fashion, the calamity caused a man who had everything to lose everything. He drank to cope with his blindness and it cost him his job. He drank more. Financial and alcohol issues put a strain on his marriage. His despair broke it. He drank more.
Finally, when the man was evicted from his apartment, his friends and family had a reason to step in. He quickly drove them away. It was fortunate, for his sake, that they started him on therapy even quicker. Oh, he had no use for the free clinic shrink, for sure, but it was one of those right place, right time experiences.
The woman was a little too New Age and extroverted for his liking, but it was a good thing because women like that couldn't care less. If people were bothered by this woman being apt to make the first move, she certainly wasn't bothered by them. He felt her sit down in the seat immediately next to his.
"I hate it when people assume," she started, "so... are you blind?"
His smile was dripping sarcasm before he spoke. "What gave it away? Maybe it was these sunglasses, or possibly this giant candy cane I'm holding."
"Actually, it was your feet," she said. "They're pointed toward the exit. I'm guessing you wouldn't be caught dead here unless you were waiting to go into an appointment."
"I'm not really into all this psychiatric... stuff." With that, he pointed his feet in the other direction.
"The worst part is anticipation. We're subconsciously drawn to look toward the thing we need to be ready for, and then we point our feet."
"So you know this stuff pretty well. You're a doctor then?"
"Nope," the woman said, "the only ones who know about anticipation are the patients."
"You're a patient."
"Aren't I well-adjusted?"
"Very," he said. "Why do you have to keep coming here?"
"Because I'm honest," she said. "I used to hallucinate. I don't any more, but I talk freely about spirituality and it makes them nervous."
"You don't want to convert me, do you?"
She grinned brightly and asked, "To what?"
"I don't know."
"I'm able to... see things, y'know, in people."
"But I thought," he paused, shifted in his seat, and continued, "I thought you said you don't hallucinate any more."
"Maybe I should say, 'feel things.' But you speak to my point... these doctors here don't see the difference between delusion and belief."
"Is there a difference?"
"Of course there is." The woman said this with a sweet sincerity that made things not quite so serious for the man.
"I'd say you're pretty optimistic," the man responded.
"I am!"
Friday, January 18, 2008
Confidence and a positive attitude
I was asked recently if I thought that the terms "confidence" and "positive attitude" were synonymous. My answer to that is, yes, but that the definition of confidence needs to be clear. In general, confidence implies a belief in a measure of certainty with regard to a particular outcome. Confidence means assurance. When we have confidence in ourselves, we are sure of who we are in a certain sense.
Confidence doesn't really carry one connotation or another, it has a neutral definition. In reality, however, any negative idea about confidence changes its definition. Overconfidence is governed by hubris and arrogance. Hubris implies a deluded and inflated self-pride. This leads to arrogance, which occurs when we are too certain of our pending achievements. It is extreme faith in some outcome without any sound reasons on which to base that extreme faith. While it seems, at first glance, that overconfidence is simply being ultra-sure of ourselves and our desired outcomes, we actually have no idea what is going on because we have obscured our senses in this regard.
In the moment, hubris and arrogance would make us believe very strongly but later, looking back, we would realize we knew nothing at all. Indifference is the inverse of overconfidence. This occurs when we have an exaggerated lack of faith in ourselves because we don't care about achieving any outcome, whether that refers to an event or a quality of personal character. Confidence can't work with a negative attitude. It doesn't matter whether people believe in themselves and wish to succeed in life or not. If they do, and yet they look at the rest of the world pessimistically, they're going to end up with a certain level of overconfidence. If people have an entirely cynical outlook all the way around, then indifference is inevitable.
True confidence, or at least my definition, is definitely synonymous with a positive attitude. This is a healthy level of assurance in ourselves and our achievements which comes from, or leads to, an optimistic outlook. I know in my life that my positive attitude and some of my best qualities set up a kind of reinforcing cycle that is kept in motion by confidence. As I have gotten older and really grown in my ability to analyze myself, I have taken notice and then accepted my abilities, my character strengths, all the things I'm good at, and all my good parts. I am really at peace with myself. It comes from seeing the world positively, but it also helps me to continue and sustain that attitude. And then, like a cycle, each thing reinforces the other. The more I maintain my optimism, the more confidence I have, and that allows me to discover new qualities about myself or strengthen old ones, which makes me even more positive which increases my confidence, ad infinitum.
Happiness, for me, stems from a positive attitude. Being positive is about how I choose to see the world, and the choice is very important. Often times, I feel like I can choose to be happy as well. Other times, I'm not able to choose how I feel, but even in negative emotions there can be a positive outlook. I can remember that there is good in expressing sadness or anger at times and also remind myself that there is always another sunrise coming.
One other important thing is a form of surrender that exists within the positive attitude. This is willful, so it is not the same as indifference. The idea here is to surrender myself to that which I cannot control. There is no point in stressing over those things, so why not be happy and enjoy the ride? If I can give up worrying about the matters in which I have no choice and devote all my time and energy toward the choices I can make, then I have maximized my ability to control my own happiness. That is a major step in having a positive attitude and gives me a sound reason for self-confidence.
Confidence doesn't really carry one connotation or another, it has a neutral definition. In reality, however, any negative idea about confidence changes its definition. Overconfidence is governed by hubris and arrogance. Hubris implies a deluded and inflated self-pride. This leads to arrogance, which occurs when we are too certain of our pending achievements. It is extreme faith in some outcome without any sound reasons on which to base that extreme faith. While it seems, at first glance, that overconfidence is simply being ultra-sure of ourselves and our desired outcomes, we actually have no idea what is going on because we have obscured our senses in this regard.
In the moment, hubris and arrogance would make us believe very strongly but later, looking back, we would realize we knew nothing at all. Indifference is the inverse of overconfidence. This occurs when we have an exaggerated lack of faith in ourselves because we don't care about achieving any outcome, whether that refers to an event or a quality of personal character. Confidence can't work with a negative attitude. It doesn't matter whether people believe in themselves and wish to succeed in life or not. If they do, and yet they look at the rest of the world pessimistically, they're going to end up with a certain level of overconfidence. If people have an entirely cynical outlook all the way around, then indifference is inevitable.
True confidence, or at least my definition, is definitely synonymous with a positive attitude. This is a healthy level of assurance in ourselves and our achievements which comes from, or leads to, an optimistic outlook. I know in my life that my positive attitude and some of my best qualities set up a kind of reinforcing cycle that is kept in motion by confidence. As I have gotten older and really grown in my ability to analyze myself, I have taken notice and then accepted my abilities, my character strengths, all the things I'm good at, and all my good parts. I am really at peace with myself. It comes from seeing the world positively, but it also helps me to continue and sustain that attitude. And then, like a cycle, each thing reinforces the other. The more I maintain my optimism, the more confidence I have, and that allows me to discover new qualities about myself or strengthen old ones, which makes me even more positive which increases my confidence, ad infinitum.
Happiness, for me, stems from a positive attitude. Being positive is about how I choose to see the world, and the choice is very important. Often times, I feel like I can choose to be happy as well. Other times, I'm not able to choose how I feel, but even in negative emotions there can be a positive outlook. I can remember that there is good in expressing sadness or anger at times and also remind myself that there is always another sunrise coming.
One other important thing is a form of surrender that exists within the positive attitude. This is willful, so it is not the same as indifference. The idea here is to surrender myself to that which I cannot control. There is no point in stressing over those things, so why not be happy and enjoy the ride? If I can give up worrying about the matters in which I have no choice and devote all my time and energy toward the choices I can make, then I have maximized my ability to control my own happiness. That is a major step in having a positive attitude and gives me a sound reason for self-confidence.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
The Vigorous Pursuit
Today is the anniversary of my lung reinflation procedure. In almost every respect, that procedure put me in a completely different place today as compared to a little over a year ago. It's probably typical that I believe most of the changes are positive ones. However, I'm still left with some negative feelings and certainly some emotional hangups.
I feel vulnerable, and I can't get around it. Obviously, I've always been vulnerable, but the collapse really made it tangible for me. Whether or not my vulnerability was tangible to others is really beside the point. It's not exaggerating to say that until I underwent the procedure, I truly was not aware of my vulnerability. I already knew how precious life was and I had a very healthy, and unusual for this society, view of death. But I finally got an in-your-face example of how fragile the human body really is. It is an emotional realization. Not only are there untold forces outside of my control, but those forces can hurt me and the ones I love. A pessimist could have a field day with that statement. However, I actually took a lot of good from it. I feel more alive now that I've had that realization.
I have always believed in enjoying life and being happy. What changed in me is that I have accepted wanting to feel good. I embrace my desire. That thing about suffering being caused by desire can be confusing. I realize now that it is not a teaching that shows me how to remove suffering from my life. Rather, it is a statement about the human condition. For all the pain and fragility we endure in our bodies, simply being alive also affords us so much pleasure. I choose, now, to indulge in it happily and without remorse. More of us should do that, I think.
My choice to accept the desire to feel good has made me even more optimistic and given me a ton of self-confidence. Granted, none of this happened overnight and my ideas here have been tested many times. It did take the whole year. Since the year has passed, I have grown in my self-acceptance and I don't find too many situations in which I feel uncomfortable.
When it comes down to it, the emotional vulnerability caused by the collapse can only be cured by me. For better or worse, the memories of the procedure itself will always be with me. The fear of it happening again will only go away with time. The emotions are also connected to me physically by all the parts of my body involved in fixing the lung collapse. My skin, my chest, my muscle tissue there, and that part of my lung, those things also physically feel vulnerable. It is difficult to describe and primarily psychological, but it is there. Every once in a while, little pains come back, just like memory flashes of the procedure.
Some of my emotional vulnerability cannot, or better yet should not, be cured. When time begins to move us away from a major event in our lives, whether it is a trauma or some special occasion, it is inevitable that we revert to an everyday routine style of living. In that regard, I almost feel like I am more alive during my crises than most other times. My emotions were very close to the surface around the time of the collapse. Now, it makes me glad to experience strong emotion. For instance, I actually feel good after some song or film moves me to tears. I certainly don't want to cure that. My emotions are my connection to the times in my life in which I feel most alive.
I have grown in my fondness for the people I love. Appreciating them is something I have always done, but I feel like I am now more consciously aware of the delight I take in my relationships with them. I know what it is to enjoy their enjoyment, to feel achievement in their achievements, and to be happy because of their happiness. In most of the aspects of my life, quantity is something I hardly experience. It's all about quality. I don't have an enormity of close friends I would call brother, or sister, or lover. I don't get to see them terribly often. So, I make up for it by maximizing every moment we spend together which allows those relationships to be enriched in a truly special way. I see my family more often, but I put the same spiritual energy into the maximizing and the enriching.
One thing that has not changed over this year is my love of writing. It has increased, increased, increased exponentially. I think the crux of this thought and all of the thoughts I have had about my anniversary is that I feel affirmed. My way of life, my beliefs, my current place, my direction, my character, all of these things have been affirmed in me. After much thought this year, I have discovered that writing is my vocation. It was simply something I was good at until 2004. That year it became an interest and an intense hobby. In 2005, I changed it to my major in college and in the fall of that year my fate was sealed when I took Intro to Creative Writing. Writing had become my occupation by the fall of 2006. And now, I can feel deep down that I am called to write.
I wrote before that a pessimist could have a field day with the idea that we can be hurt by so many uncontrollable forces, and that includes other human beings. I can understand why that looks negative at face value. Digging deeper, however, look at all the good. It is completely useless for me to worry about those things I cannot control. Imagine how liberating it is, then, to accept that there are all those forces out there and stop stressing about them. Imagine all the time and energy saved that can now be used for better things. The preciousness of life, the realization that, in a split second, everything could end or change makes it so easy to live in the moment. I'm all for giving up on guilt and instead focusing on how special it is to get to see this universe. The wonder it offers us is amazing and it should be enjoyed with exuberance.
The best thing we can do is to acknowledge it all because all of it is necessary. Know that bad things threaten us, realize our precarious position, and appreciate the good that makes it worth while. I really mean it when I write: it's all good. We need one thing to understand the other. Be glad that this world is so fragile, for it gives us the passion to delight in its pleasure.
Life is the vigorous pursuit.
I feel vulnerable, and I can't get around it. Obviously, I've always been vulnerable, but the collapse really made it tangible for me. Whether or not my vulnerability was tangible to others is really beside the point. It's not exaggerating to say that until I underwent the procedure, I truly was not aware of my vulnerability. I already knew how precious life was and I had a very healthy, and unusual for this society, view of death. But I finally got an in-your-face example of how fragile the human body really is. It is an emotional realization. Not only are there untold forces outside of my control, but those forces can hurt me and the ones I love. A pessimist could have a field day with that statement. However, I actually took a lot of good from it. I feel more alive now that I've had that realization.
I have always believed in enjoying life and being happy. What changed in me is that I have accepted wanting to feel good. I embrace my desire. That thing about suffering being caused by desire can be confusing. I realize now that it is not a teaching that shows me how to remove suffering from my life. Rather, it is a statement about the human condition. For all the pain and fragility we endure in our bodies, simply being alive also affords us so much pleasure. I choose, now, to indulge in it happily and without remorse. More of us should do that, I think.
My choice to accept the desire to feel good has made me even more optimistic and given me a ton of self-confidence. Granted, none of this happened overnight and my ideas here have been tested many times. It did take the whole year. Since the year has passed, I have grown in my self-acceptance and I don't find too many situations in which I feel uncomfortable.
When it comes down to it, the emotional vulnerability caused by the collapse can only be cured by me. For better or worse, the memories of the procedure itself will always be with me. The fear of it happening again will only go away with time. The emotions are also connected to me physically by all the parts of my body involved in fixing the lung collapse. My skin, my chest, my muscle tissue there, and that part of my lung, those things also physically feel vulnerable. It is difficult to describe and primarily psychological, but it is there. Every once in a while, little pains come back, just like memory flashes of the procedure.
Some of my emotional vulnerability cannot, or better yet should not, be cured. When time begins to move us away from a major event in our lives, whether it is a trauma or some special occasion, it is inevitable that we revert to an everyday routine style of living. In that regard, I almost feel like I am more alive during my crises than most other times. My emotions were very close to the surface around the time of the collapse. Now, it makes me glad to experience strong emotion. For instance, I actually feel good after some song or film moves me to tears. I certainly don't want to cure that. My emotions are my connection to the times in my life in which I feel most alive.
I have grown in my fondness for the people I love. Appreciating them is something I have always done, but I feel like I am now more consciously aware of the delight I take in my relationships with them. I know what it is to enjoy their enjoyment, to feel achievement in their achievements, and to be happy because of their happiness. In most of the aspects of my life, quantity is something I hardly experience. It's all about quality. I don't have an enormity of close friends I would call brother, or sister, or lover. I don't get to see them terribly often. So, I make up for it by maximizing every moment we spend together which allows those relationships to be enriched in a truly special way. I see my family more often, but I put the same spiritual energy into the maximizing and the enriching.
One thing that has not changed over this year is my love of writing. It has increased, increased, increased exponentially. I think the crux of this thought and all of the thoughts I have had about my anniversary is that I feel affirmed. My way of life, my beliefs, my current place, my direction, my character, all of these things have been affirmed in me. After much thought this year, I have discovered that writing is my vocation. It was simply something I was good at until 2004. That year it became an interest and an intense hobby. In 2005, I changed it to my major in college and in the fall of that year my fate was sealed when I took Intro to Creative Writing. Writing had become my occupation by the fall of 2006. And now, I can feel deep down that I am called to write.
I wrote before that a pessimist could have a field day with the idea that we can be hurt by so many uncontrollable forces, and that includes other human beings. I can understand why that looks negative at face value. Digging deeper, however, look at all the good. It is completely useless for me to worry about those things I cannot control. Imagine how liberating it is, then, to accept that there are all those forces out there and stop stressing about them. Imagine all the time and energy saved that can now be used for better things. The preciousness of life, the realization that, in a split second, everything could end or change makes it so easy to live in the moment. I'm all for giving up on guilt and instead focusing on how special it is to get to see this universe. The wonder it offers us is amazing and it should be enjoyed with exuberance.
The best thing we can do is to acknowledge it all because all of it is necessary. Know that bad things threaten us, realize our precarious position, and appreciate the good that makes it worth while. I really mean it when I write: it's all good. We need one thing to understand the other. Be glad that this world is so fragile, for it gives us the passion to delight in its pleasure.
Life is the vigorous pursuit.
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