On Aristotle by Billy Collins
This is the beginning
Almost anything can happen
This is where you find
the creation of light, a fish wriggling onto land,
the first word of Paradise Lost on an empty page,
Think of an egg, or the letter 'A;
a woman ironing on a bare stage
as the heavy curtain rises
This is the very beginning
The first person narrator introduces himself,
tells us about his lineage.
The mezzo-soprano stands in the wings
Here the climbers are studying a map
or pulling on their long woolen socks
This is early ion, years before the Ark, dawn,
The profile of an animal is being smeared
on the all of a cave,
and you have not yet learned to crawl,
This is the opening, the gambit,
a pawn moving forward an inch.
This is your first night with her,
your first night without her,
This is the first part
where the wheels begin to turn,
where the elevator begins its ascent,
before the doors lurch apart.
This is the middle.
Things have had time to get complicated
messy, really. Nothing is simple anymore.
Cities have sprouted up along the rivers
teaming with people at cross purposes
a million schemes, a million wild looks.
Disappointment unshoulders his knapsack
here and pitches his ragged tent.
This is the sticky part where the plot congeals
where the actions suddenly reverses
or swerves off in an outrageous direction
Here the narrator devotes a long paragraph
to why Miriam does not want Edwards child
Someone hides a letter under a pillow
Here the aria arises to a pitch
a song of betrayal salted with revenge
and the climbing party is stuck on a ledge
halfway up the mountain
This is the bridge, the painful modulations
this is the thick of things
so much is crowded into the middle
the guitars of Spain, piles of ripe avocados
Russian uniforms, noisy parties
lakeside kisses, arguments heard through walls
too much to name too much to think about
And this is the end
the car running out of road
the river losing its name in an ocean
the long nose of the photographed horse
touching the white electric line
this is the colophon, the last elephant in the parade,
the empty wheelchair
and pigeons floating down in the evening
and the stage is littered with bodies,
the narrator leads the characters to their cells,
and the climbers are in their graves.
It is me hitting the period
and you closing the book,
It is Sylvia Plath in the kitchen
and St. Clement with an anchor around his neck,
This is the final bit
thinning away to nothing.
This is the end, according to Aristotle,
what we have all been waiting for,
what everything comes down to,
the destination we cannot help imagining
a streak of light in the sky
a hat on a peg, and outside the cabin, falling leaves
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
This is the beginning: On Aristotle
Language habits
"The fact of the matter is that the 'real world' is to a large extent built up on the language habits of the group."
--Edward Sapir (1949)
Language habits do not define, nor create, culture, being, life or anything. They are like ruts in a dirt road, ruts of thought, but not true creativity nor true relating.
I agree with this quote, that what most people think of as the real world is co-created by language habits but I don't agree with the practice. All humans must get past thought habits, push through to clear, original and authenticate-for-each-individual thinking.
I've been thinking, in last few days, of the Vipassana concept of sankaras. If I understand sankaras in the context of Vipassana, sankaras are thought ruts. For example, when we allow ourselves to keep thinking about something, especially things that are not sources of happiness for us, such as dwelling on unhappiness, we carve sankaras deeper and deeper into our beings. Sankaras limit us, keep us focussed on unhappy things.
When I catch myself, these days, reverting to old thought habits that do not serve me, that remind me of unhappy or unsatisfying times in the past, I meditate. I do my best to get out of my thoughts and focus, as Vipassana teaches, on what my body is feeling.
Sankaras can cut into our beings like running water slowly cuts into rocks. I stop carving ruts of thought that do not serve me when I catch myself thinking thoughts that do not serve me and meditate.
I have noticed a lot of mindfulness teachers calling for brief periods of meditation. I can, and have, benefited from quick meditations. A few days ago, a doctor kept me waiting a long time in the exam room. I meditated. In terms of a good practice, I like the Vipassana practice of meditationg two separate hours a day. If that seems like more time than many too-busy people can imagine carving out of their days, I say that if a wrong perspective. The more I meditate, the more happy I am.
May all beings be happy. Maybe all language habits be good ones, rooted in clear thinking and free of rutted thought.
Monday, May 11, 2015
a gender ideal world would have . . .
In an ideal world, "masculinity" would mean PARTNERSHIP, just as "matriarchy" does. In other words, there would be no need for the terms: masculinity, femininity, matriarchy, patriarchy. There would simply be people collaborating equally for a healthy, thriving world.
I think this quote is from an article on HuffPost but I never look at Huffpost. I like it.
high heeled shoes & revealing male packages
Feminism will only be a convincing, emergent energy in this world when no women wears high heels.
What is it with high heels? High heels in the back of human feet is goofy. It's stupid. And it throws the whole body out of alignment. And it hurts feet.
I understand that high heels can appear sexy. I know that many women are acculturated to endure high heels so they look more sexually appealing and that such woman have been, essentially, brainwashed to believe they 'have' to wear high heels to appear attractive. This is not true. I know plenty of plain chicks, including myself, women who don't wear fuck me shoes or eye make up can attract love, hot monkey love. Women who don't dress in a sexual way also attract good, attractive men.
The day men start wearing clothing that accentuates their 'package', or their penis and testicles, is the day I'll support cleavage baring, tight, sexy clothing for women.
Can anyone imagine all males walking around with their sexual package carefully protruded but covered with cloth, the way many women display their breasts, and also their asses.
Any time I mention my admittedly disingenuous proposal that all men wear tights with clinging lycra pockets in which to stuff their package. Men, should such a fashion ever become pervasive, could wear a cotton lycra blend so their testicles and penis are more comfortable. And, as some women do, they could wear padded package display clothing to give the impression their package is larger than it is.
When such male clothing becomes ordinary, then I'll support women in high heels, sexually revealing clothing and make up.
Of course, men will also wear make up when they reveal their packages, protruded from their pelvis.
Women's bosoms and, sometimes, rearends, are displayed in clingy cloth. Why not men's private parts?!
What is it with high heels? High heels in the back of human feet is goofy. It's stupid. And it throws the whole body out of alignment. And it hurts feet.
I understand that high heels can appear sexy. I know that many women are acculturated to endure high heels so they look more sexually appealing and that such woman have been, essentially, brainwashed to believe they 'have' to wear high heels to appear attractive. This is not true. I know plenty of plain chicks, including myself, women who don't wear fuck me shoes or eye make up can attract love, hot monkey love. Women who don't dress in a sexual way also attract good, attractive men.
The day men start wearing clothing that accentuates their 'package', or their penis and testicles, is the day I'll support cleavage baring, tight, sexy clothing for women.
Can anyone imagine all males walking around with their sexual package carefully protruded but covered with cloth, the way many women display their breasts, and also their asses.
Any time I mention my admittedly disingenuous proposal that all men wear tights with clinging lycra pockets in which to stuff their package. Men, should such a fashion ever become pervasive, could wear a cotton lycra blend so their testicles and penis are more comfortable. And, as some women do, they could wear padded package display clothing to give the impression their package is larger than it is.
When such male clothing becomes ordinary, then I'll support women in high heels, sexually revealing clothing and make up.
Of course, men will also wear make up when they reveal their packages, protruded from their pelvis.
Women's bosoms and, sometimes, rearends, are displayed in clingy cloth. Why not men's private parts?!
Sunday, May 10, 2015
tolerance requires complete freedom
Tolerance
To be tolerant means in the sense of Spiritual Science something quite different from what one understands usually about it. It means also to respect the freedom of thought in others. To push others away from their place is an insult, but if one does the same thing in thought nobody would say this is an injustice. We talk a lot about “regard for the other’s opinion,” but are not really willing to apply this principle ourselves.The “Word” today has almost no meaning, one hears it and one has heard nothing. One has to learn to listen with one’s soul, to get hold of the most intimate things with our soul. What later manifests itself in physical life is always present in the spirit first. So we must suppress our opinion and really listen completely to the other, not only listen to the word but even to the feeling. Even then, if in us a feeling will stir that it is wrong what the other one says, it is much more powerful to be able to listen as long as the other one talks than to jump into their speech. This listening creates a completely different understanding — you feel as if the soul of the other starts to warm you through, to shine through you, if you confront “her” in this manner with absolute tolerance.We shall not only grant the freedom of person but complete freedom. We shall even treasure the freedom of the other’s opinion. This stands only as an example for many things. If one cuts off someone’s speech one does something similar to kicking the other from the point of view of the spiritual world. If one brings oneself as far as to understand that it is much more destructive to cut somebody off than to give them a kick, only then one comes as far as to understand mutual help or community right into one’s soul. Then it becomes a reality.-- Rudolf Steiner – GA 54 – Brotherhood and the Fight for Survival – Berlin, November 23, 1905
the pitchforks are coming
the-pitchforks-are-coming-for-us-plutocrats
This billionaire says trickle-down gets things all wrong. It is not the wealthy elite that expands the economy, it is a middle class paid living wages who spend those wages that expands the economy.
He alludes to Henry Ford's insight that if he paid his autoworkers a fair, middle class wage, they could all afford to buy his cards. And buying cars grew the economy.
This billionaire also says that if the billionaires don't let loose their chokehold on our economic life, the pitchforks will come. He says the very wealthy won't know they are coming, it will happen suddenly.
The pitchforks will come and all will suffer, he says. He suggests that we address economic inequality before the pitchforks come.
This billionaire says trickle-down gets things all wrong. It is not the wealthy elite that expands the economy, it is a middle class paid living wages who spend those wages that expands the economy.
He alludes to Henry Ford's insight that if he paid his autoworkers a fair, middle class wage, they could all afford to buy his cards. And buying cars grew the economy.
This billionaire also says that if the billionaires don't let loose their chokehold on our economic life, the pitchforks will come. He says the very wealthy won't know they are coming, it will happen suddenly.
The pitchforks will come and all will suffer, he says. He suggests that we address economic inequality before the pitchforks come.
my star finds me
The wishes of the soul are springing
The deeds of the will wax and grow
The fruits of life are ripening
I feel my fate
My fate finds me
I feel my star
My star finds me
I feel my goals
My goals find me.
My soul and the World are one
Life will be brighter around me
Life will be heavier within me
Will be abundant for me.
--Rudolf Steiner
The purpose of life: R.W.Emerson
“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”I am not sure I agree with Ralph. Surely being useful, honorable, and compassionate will yield happiness. While being happy may not be the purpose of life, it is surely an outcome of a life well lived.
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Sunday, May 03, 2015
You, Darkness: Rilke
You, darkness, that I come from
I love you more than all the fires
that fence in the world,
for the fire makes a circle of light for everyone
and then no one outside learns of you.
But the darkness pulls in everything -
shapes and fires, animals and myself,
how easily it gathers them! -
powers and people -
and it is possible a great presence is moving near me.
I have faith in nights.
-- Rainer Maria Rilke
on darkness
To go in the dark with a light is to know the light
To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,
and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings
-- Wendell Berry
wisdom embedded in darkness
"Often when we hear the word depression, we have a pathological view of it, do we not? It's something to fear, to avoid, to run from, to hope like heck it never happens to me. And yet depression is a worthy and essential (emphasis added) part of life that builds the capacity for depth. What enables you to carve out these deeper and deeper spaces through your own suffering is the capacity to embody more of the spiritual. In this way the nervous system is the most spiritual part of the body because it is empty. There's nothing in there; it's dark.
-- William Bento, PhD, p. 208, The Counselor as if soul and spirit matter, (Anthroposophic Press,April 2015)
-- William Bento, PhD, p. 208, The Counselor as if soul and spirit matter, (Anthroposophic Press,April 2015)
a glimpse of heaven
I am sad
flailing
unable to accept a loss
To have had a glimpse of heaven
then be denied access
I wish I had never had the glimpse.
flailing
unable to accept a loss
To have had a glimpse of heaven
then be denied access
I wish I had never had the glimpse.
Saturday, May 02, 2015
a horse in striped pajamas: Muir Woods story
Today, I visited Muir Woods for the first time. It was hella crowded. A spring Saturday is not the optimal time to enjoy the cathedral of a redwood forest but I had a rental car and I was in Marin today. I'm glad I went, of course. I've seen redwood trees before, but Muir Woods is special.
Remember the scene in the Wizard of Oz where some apple trees throw apples at Dorothy and her gang? Trees in movies talk back. And I felt like those redwood trees, some of the oldest anything on this planet, had a lot to say. To me, to all of us.
So the visit was joyful reverence for the holy forest. My visit was intermittently an experience of grief. I felt all the many groves of ancient forest clear cut for greed. I thought "well, people used wood for fuel and home building". Then I thought "If we had been mindfully reverent regarding every choice ever made to use the earth's bounty, we might not be overtaxing the earth."
Maybe humans could have made all kinds of other choices. They could have said "Nature is our home, our sacred land, we must protect it. Let's build stucco homes from mud and straw and save as many trees as possible." You know, a fairy tale. Human civilization could have lived in harmony with fairy tale wisdom, lived in harmony with the supersensible realm.
if you are asking yourself 'what is the supersensible realm', go to the oldest forest you can, on a day when few others are in the woods and feel the earth, the trees, the plants, the creatures of the day and night. Listen to an old growth forest, if you are lucky enough to be near one. An old growth forest, and all the beings and plants and mushrooms, which are not plant or animal, will talk to you. Not in words. Redwood sorrel talks like redwood sorrel. Turkey tail mushrooms growing on a fallen, dead piece of redwood speak a language of their own. It is our responsibility to listen.
This is what indigenous cultures have done for millenia. In spite of the capitalist, dominator rapacious encroachment, indigenous cultures have hung on to some of their wisdom. And they possess the wisdom to restore culture and nature if capitalists would stop dominating.
Whatever. I'm running out of gas with the grief I felt for nature today, and for human civilization. We've fucked up.
I thought, in Muir Woods, of an old tv show broadcast in Chicago when I was a preschooler and my mom let her kids watch it because it was educational. My mom was pretty strict about exposing her kids to tv but she bought the marketing that "Captain Kangaroo" was education. Once Sesame Street came along, and the actor who played the Captain got very old, Captain Kangaroo was gone. Sesame Street was not around for my childhood and that's not a great loss, imo. TV is never good for kids. IMO.
I did like some bits of Captain Kangaroo. I actually thought the show boring. The captain talked down to kids, perhaps dumbing down with the belief that being less than brilliant would attract a larger audience. Who knows? I do recall being bored by the captain but I watched him whenever mom let me because it was rre to watc tv in our house.
One of the captain's regular characteres on the show was Mr. Greenjeans. I loved Mr. Greenjeans. He grew food and taught kids about gardening and farming. And Mr. Greenjeans we much more animated than the Captain.
And the Captain occasionally talked to a regular on the show, maybe it was Greenjeans, maybe not, who would sing a song about zebras being horses in striped bananas.
Today in Muir Woods, I read that the small plants that thrived all over the ground in that redwood forrest look like large shamrocks. What I thought were shamrocks are called redwood sorrel.
And I thought, "I know a horse in striped pajamas when I see one and I know shamrocks when I see them." I also thought of my Celtic heritage and I thought 'shamrocks are part of the supersensible realm. They are likely magic. I know a shamerock when I see it. And I know a horse in striped pajamas when I see one.
another ramble.
Remember the scene in the Wizard of Oz where some apple trees throw apples at Dorothy and her gang? Trees in movies talk back. And I felt like those redwood trees, some of the oldest anything on this planet, had a lot to say. To me, to all of us.
So the visit was joyful reverence for the holy forest. My visit was intermittently an experience of grief. I felt all the many groves of ancient forest clear cut for greed. I thought "well, people used wood for fuel and home building". Then I thought "If we had been mindfully reverent regarding every choice ever made to use the earth's bounty, we might not be overtaxing the earth."
Maybe humans could have made all kinds of other choices. They could have said "Nature is our home, our sacred land, we must protect it. Let's build stucco homes from mud and straw and save as many trees as possible." You know, a fairy tale. Human civilization could have lived in harmony with fairy tale wisdom, lived in harmony with the supersensible realm.
if you are asking yourself 'what is the supersensible realm', go to the oldest forest you can, on a day when few others are in the woods and feel the earth, the trees, the plants, the creatures of the day and night. Listen to an old growth forest, if you are lucky enough to be near one. An old growth forest, and all the beings and plants and mushrooms, which are not plant or animal, will talk to you. Not in words. Redwood sorrel talks like redwood sorrel. Turkey tail mushrooms growing on a fallen, dead piece of redwood speak a language of their own. It is our responsibility to listen.
This is what indigenous cultures have done for millenia. In spite of the capitalist, dominator rapacious encroachment, indigenous cultures have hung on to some of their wisdom. And they possess the wisdom to restore culture and nature if capitalists would stop dominating.
Whatever. I'm running out of gas with the grief I felt for nature today, and for human civilization. We've fucked up.
I thought, in Muir Woods, of an old tv show broadcast in Chicago when I was a preschooler and my mom let her kids watch it because it was educational. My mom was pretty strict about exposing her kids to tv but she bought the marketing that "Captain Kangaroo" was education. Once Sesame Street came along, and the actor who played the Captain got very old, Captain Kangaroo was gone. Sesame Street was not around for my childhood and that's not a great loss, imo. TV is never good for kids. IMO.
I did like some bits of Captain Kangaroo. I actually thought the show boring. The captain talked down to kids, perhaps dumbing down with the belief that being less than brilliant would attract a larger audience. Who knows? I do recall being bored by the captain but I watched him whenever mom let me because it was rre to watc tv in our house.
One of the captain's regular characteres on the show was Mr. Greenjeans. I loved Mr. Greenjeans. He grew food and taught kids about gardening and farming. And Mr. Greenjeans we much more animated than the Captain.
And the Captain occasionally talked to a regular on the show, maybe it was Greenjeans, maybe not, who would sing a song about zebras being horses in striped bananas.
Today in Muir Woods, I read that the small plants that thrived all over the ground in that redwood forrest look like large shamrocks. What I thought were shamrocks are called redwood sorrel.
And I thought, "I know a horse in striped pajamas when I see one and I know shamrocks when I see them." I also thought of my Celtic heritage and I thought 'shamrocks are part of the supersensible realm. They are likely magic. I know a shamerock when I see it. And I know a horse in striped pajamas when I see one.
another ramble.
Friday, May 01, 2015
can I really stop explaining myself? even to me?
 | |
| I think these two quotes hold, jointly, a lesson I keep getting to work on. I know in my head that I need to let go of what no longer serves me, like I let go of practicing law, but I haven't learned it fully because the lesson keeps coming up. Yesterday I had a brief interaction with a male friend. It might have been an argument; it certainly was a brief exchange full of conflict and misunderstanding. When I realized this man was telling me he was very angry, then demanding I 'learn' what he insisted I needed to learn, yes, I had a fleeting impulse to defend myself, to explain he was angry because of his misinterpretation of what I had said. But then I decided, "Nah, we've danced this dance a few times. I'd say the same things I've said before, then he will, so I said "I'm out". He was particularly angry because I had said that he was blaming me for how he felt. He vehemently denied that he was blaming me even tho in his denial, he reiterated how I had been wrong and 'made' him feel very angry. It felt great to decide we had danced the same futile steps enough times, to disengage, not argue. I just let go of him. When I told him that was what I was going to do, he kinda huffed/pouted and said "Don't expect me to come after you, to ask you to work this out." I felt no need to respond to that. Let him go, I thought. I like this man. I love this man. He is, as the quote below suggests, not at my level of perception. He could be an ascended master and me at a low level of enlightenment. I don't care. I get to be me and I am perfectly good just as I am. And, I'll be honest, I am certain he is not up to my level of perception, that he has lots more personal work to do to get up here with me. |
love is only currency needed
Yesterday I gifted a 'like-new' but originally very inexpensive bike to a neighbor. She had mentioned, at a community event in the building, that she was hoping to save up to buy a bike. I instantly had the impulse to give her the bike I finally gave her yesterday. I only paid $20 for it. The sellers wanted $40 but money had fallen out of my packback as I walked over to their place to buy it. At first, the guy said he'd walk with me to a bank machine but then he said he'd just take $20 because, moving to Europe in two more days, he and his wife were busy and just wanted the bike gone.
I guess I wrote about my gifting of the bike, in one of my verbose, unedited rambles.
Today, the gift bike recipient emailed me to tell me my gift inspired her. She had been planning to sell her son's child bike, for he is now quite tall and has an "adult" sized bike but, inspired by my gift, she is going to give her son's old, now-too-small but still perfectly-good to another kid in our building.
She wrote "I am going to pay your generosity forward."
That's what I'm talking about. We can live in a gift economy now.
Love is the only energy we need to get all needs met. Reverence is good too.
Love isn't love until you give it away.
I guess I wrote about my gifting of the bike, in one of my verbose, unedited rambles.
Today, the gift bike recipient emailed me to tell me my gift inspired her. She had been planning to sell her son's child bike, for he is now quite tall and has an "adult" sized bike but, inspired by my gift, she is going to give her son's old, now-too-small but still perfectly-good to another kid in our building.
She wrote "I am going to pay your generosity forward."
That's what I'm talking about. We can live in a gift economy now.
Love is the only energy we need to get all needs met. Reverence is good too.
Love isn't love until you give it away.
thought pictures
I have owned a book of some of Rudolf Steiner's drawings. He usually sketched on blackboards when he gave lectures. His followers put black paper on the blackboards so his drawings would not be lost. Here is a brief article about Steiner's drawings. It mentions that Steiner believed color was very significant in understanding the cosmos, and in thought pictures. His drawings were thought pictures, communication outside of language. Communication in images.
http://irenebrination.typepad.com/irenebrination_notes_on_a/2013/08/rudolf-steiner-blackboard-drawings.html
I've known about Steiner's blackboard illustrations that accompanied his many, many lectures for 25 years. It is only today that I see a connection between Steiner's work and the, now, common practice of 'graphic faclitation', when people with drawing skills capture conversations in visual images quickly done as the conversation unfolds.
Steiner is so cool. "Was" so cool? He's still cool, imo.
http://irenebrination.typepad.com/irenebrination_notes_on_a/2013/08/rudolf-steiner-blackboard-drawings.html
I've known about Steiner's blackboard illustrations that accompanied his many, many lectures for 25 years. It is only today that I see a connection between Steiner's work and the, now, common practice of 'graphic faclitation', when people with drawing skills capture conversations in visual images quickly done as the conversation unfolds.
Steiner is so cool. "Was" so cool? He's still cool, imo.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
my deep catch and release program
I am systematically going through all the stuff in my apartment, placing things I have not used in the past year into my Versacart to haul one cartload after another to Out of the Closet, for donation. Ultimately, I believe I'll be able to fill it with stuff to release several times.
Today I gave away a bike to a neighbor who had mentioned, at a community meeting in our building, that she wanted a bike. Over a year ago, I bought a cheap but brand new Target in-house-brand bike for $20 from a Mexican woman whose husband, a German, got a job in Germany right after she paid $100 for the bike. They were asking $40 and I was going to pay $40 but when I got there, I realized some cash had fallen from my backpack. At first the guy said he'd walk to a bank with me and then he said "F- it, just give us $20. We're moving to Germany in 36 hours. I just want the bike gone." Right after that, my neighbor said "I want a bike but I never manage to save up the money, my son needs things." She is Ethiopian, fyi. I immediately decided to gift her my $20 brand new bike right after I bought it but I p-r-o-c-r-a-s-t-i-n-a-t-e-d, with the bike in the way of my 510 square feet one bedroom. I do not have an overly large living space. And I have let stuff pile up that I never use.
She was cute when I finally got it together to offer her a free bike. She wanted to pay for it. I told her I needed to gift it. Then she brings her son over to check out the bike because 'he knows a lot about bikes'. I had to suppress my strong impulses to say "what's to know about a new, free bike?" Out loud I say, "your son is welcome to check out my bike."
Whew! I made the sale. They took my free, new bike.
Why did I really give it away? Because I am a bike snob. I'd rather have no bike than a cheaply made bike. It looks great. A high quality bike is, as bicyclists know, much easier to ride, especially uphill.
Everywhere I look in my apartment, I see stuff that does not fit in my cupboards or two small closets. I have just let stuff pile up. I am going through everything.
I attended a Unity church for a few years in late eighties. Our church, and, I believe, some other Unity churches, would have Circulation Day. Church members were asked to donate anything they had not used in the past year, to put it back in circulation. And then on Circulation Day, held in a large public h.s. gymnasium as part of the suburb's festival days (so we could use the gym for free), anyone could come and take whatever they wanted. A few people used Circulation Day just to get ride of junk but, for the most part, all the stuff was good.
I spent all day every day for the week leading up to Circulation Day directing my volunteers. It is a ton of work to set up hundreds of clothing donations, hundreds of kitchen and houseware donations, etc. My kid was about five or six the year I organized Circulation Day so she was stuck, for it was summer vacation time (otherwise we couldn't use the gym, eh?!). She spotted the Big Wheel as soon as it was rolled into the gym. She rode that baby all day every day. Big Wheels, in case folks don't remember, have a clacking device on one of the rear wheels. One of my volunteers insisted on cutting off Rosie's clacker. He said he was happy to see her having fun riding that thing all over, in and out of the school halls and gym and outdoor sidewalks but he couldn't stand the noise.
When I was going through my 'stuff' to find things to donate, I took our minister's advice dead seriously. He said to release anything we had not used within the past year.
At the time, I was sharing a home with a single mom who owned the house and her things furnished the kitchen. My daughter and I had our furniture in our suite of rooms but we never used my microwave. So I had not used my microwave in over a year. I remember feeling torn about releasing the microwave. Then I caught myself fearfully thinking "I am not going to live with Mary Ellen much longer and when Rosie and I have our own place again, I will need a microwave." Then I caught myself, affirmed that if and when I needed a microwave, I'd have one. I ended up donating my microwave to the church itself, for our church kitchen had no microwave. And the one I had, selected by my ex, was gigantic. I had not wanted to own one. He gave it to me for Mother's Day the first Mother's Day after our daughter was born. I resented receiving a kitchen appliance as a gift for me. I insisted I did not want a microwave. He insisted we have one. So okay, I argued back, but he ignored me and gave me a fucking jumbo microwave for my first mother's day. I pleaded for him to give me some flowers and just buy the microwave for the household, the family, but he overruled me, ignored my feelings.
And I'm rambling.
I have remembered those old Circulation days because when I pulled the microwave out of storage, I found a tea pot inside the microwave. The teapot was a very cheap one that had come with a Mother's Day bouquet my mom sent me when I was a new single mom with a toddler too young to do anything for Mother's Day. It was a nice gesture from my mom. As soon as I saw that teapot, I decided to give it to Circulation Day. I had a strong instinct, however, to look inside the tea pot.
I resisted the instinct. I had never used the tea pot. Why look inside it? But my inner voice screamed her demand that I look inside. I found eight crisp $100 bills in the tea pot. My mom must have made some kind of arrangement with the florist. Or else fairies put that money in that tea pot. As a single mom, nearly always underemployed and nearly always skint, there's no way I put that $800 in a tea pot and forgot about it. $800 in the late eighties was a fortune. To me.
Yesterday, doing my private version of circulating stuff I don't actually use, I went through a bit of clutter on the surface of a small accessory table in my living room. As I cleared away what was on that surface, and it was mostly junk mail, something shiny fell to the carpet.
I have a pair of simple, single tear drop, crystal earrings. I have owned them since the eighties. I remember buying them. A year or more ago, I lost one. I have looked again and again to find the second one. I felt sure it would turn up. I didn't give up, I guess, for if I had given up, I would have let go of the remaining earring. And I carefully checked on the remaining earring from time to time, almost as if to reassure the earring that its mate would be found.
I am amazed I found it.
And this is a little woo woo, but this is the second time I thought I had permanently lost one of these inexpensive earrings that I love. When I have both of them available, they are the only earrings I choose to wear. Once when I lived in Mountain View, I had lunch with a friend and a realtor she was interviewing to help her find a house down there. Suddenly she noticed one of my earrings was missing. I stood up in the cafe, shook all my clothing, had my friend look all over my body. We all checked the floor, table top, dishes. No earrings. A year or so later, that earrings turned up in my apartment. How did it get to my apartment if it had left my ear at that cafe downtown? I actually showed the found earring, and its twin, to my swim friend Kay (the one hiring a realtor) and she was disbelieving that I had found it.
I love these simple earrings more and more. I think I paid $20 for them, a lot for the simple earrings that they are. $20 around 1985 was a lot for such simple earrings. They are quality crystal but just one tear drop for each ear and a loop to dangle off my earlobe. They are Swarovski (sp?) crystal, so nice tear drops but very simple.
Anyway, once again I have both earrings available to wear. I missed them.
I am positive my current, private circulation drive will not yield $800. Gosh, I wish. I have need three grand for dental work that I don't have.
I am quite surprised by the deep shame I feel. I have felt very little shame in my whole life. I am ashamed, deeply deeply ashamed, that I am missing two adjacent molars, that I can't chew properly -- not at all. I think the shame I am feeling is related to money shame. I don't mind being poor. I don't mind not being able to buy new clothes, books, go to the theater or opera, etc. I feel humiliated that I can't afford dental care.
Woe is me.
rambling. as i do.
Today I gave away a bike to a neighbor who had mentioned, at a community meeting in our building, that she wanted a bike. Over a year ago, I bought a cheap but brand new Target in-house-brand bike for $20 from a Mexican woman whose husband, a German, got a job in Germany right after she paid $100 for the bike. They were asking $40 and I was going to pay $40 but when I got there, I realized some cash had fallen from my backpack. At first the guy said he'd walk to a bank with me and then he said "F- it, just give us $20. We're moving to Germany in 36 hours. I just want the bike gone." Right after that, my neighbor said "I want a bike but I never manage to save up the money, my son needs things." She is Ethiopian, fyi. I immediately decided to gift her my $20 brand new bike right after I bought it but I p-r-o-c-r-a-s-t-i-n-a-t-e-d, with the bike in the way of my 510 square feet one bedroom. I do not have an overly large living space. And I have let stuff pile up that I never use.
She was cute when I finally got it together to offer her a free bike. She wanted to pay for it. I told her I needed to gift it. Then she brings her son over to check out the bike because 'he knows a lot about bikes'. I had to suppress my strong impulses to say "what's to know about a new, free bike?" Out loud I say, "your son is welcome to check out my bike."
Whew! I made the sale. They took my free, new bike.
Why did I really give it away? Because I am a bike snob. I'd rather have no bike than a cheaply made bike. It looks great. A high quality bike is, as bicyclists know, much easier to ride, especially uphill.
Everywhere I look in my apartment, I see stuff that does not fit in my cupboards or two small closets. I have just let stuff pile up. I am going through everything.
I attended a Unity church for a few years in late eighties. Our church, and, I believe, some other Unity churches, would have Circulation Day. Church members were asked to donate anything they had not used in the past year, to put it back in circulation. And then on Circulation Day, held in a large public h.s. gymnasium as part of the suburb's festival days (so we could use the gym for free), anyone could come and take whatever they wanted. A few people used Circulation Day just to get ride of junk but, for the most part, all the stuff was good.
I spent all day every day for the week leading up to Circulation Day directing my volunteers. It is a ton of work to set up hundreds of clothing donations, hundreds of kitchen and houseware donations, etc. My kid was about five or six the year I organized Circulation Day so she was stuck, for it was summer vacation time (otherwise we couldn't use the gym, eh?!). She spotted the Big Wheel as soon as it was rolled into the gym. She rode that baby all day every day. Big Wheels, in case folks don't remember, have a clacking device on one of the rear wheels. One of my volunteers insisted on cutting off Rosie's clacker. He said he was happy to see her having fun riding that thing all over, in and out of the school halls and gym and outdoor sidewalks but he couldn't stand the noise.
When I was going through my 'stuff' to find things to donate, I took our minister's advice dead seriously. He said to release anything we had not used within the past year.
At the time, I was sharing a home with a single mom who owned the house and her things furnished the kitchen. My daughter and I had our furniture in our suite of rooms but we never used my microwave. So I had not used my microwave in over a year. I remember feeling torn about releasing the microwave. Then I caught myself fearfully thinking "I am not going to live with Mary Ellen much longer and when Rosie and I have our own place again, I will need a microwave." Then I caught myself, affirmed that if and when I needed a microwave, I'd have one. I ended up donating my microwave to the church itself, for our church kitchen had no microwave. And the one I had, selected by my ex, was gigantic. I had not wanted to own one. He gave it to me for Mother's Day the first Mother's Day after our daughter was born. I resented receiving a kitchen appliance as a gift for me. I insisted I did not want a microwave. He insisted we have one. So okay, I argued back, but he ignored me and gave me a fucking jumbo microwave for my first mother's day. I pleaded for him to give me some flowers and just buy the microwave for the household, the family, but he overruled me, ignored my feelings.
And I'm rambling.
I have remembered those old Circulation days because when I pulled the microwave out of storage, I found a tea pot inside the microwave. The teapot was a very cheap one that had come with a Mother's Day bouquet my mom sent me when I was a new single mom with a toddler too young to do anything for Mother's Day. It was a nice gesture from my mom. As soon as I saw that teapot, I decided to give it to Circulation Day. I had a strong instinct, however, to look inside the tea pot.
I resisted the instinct. I had never used the tea pot. Why look inside it? But my inner voice screamed her demand that I look inside. I found eight crisp $100 bills in the tea pot. My mom must have made some kind of arrangement with the florist. Or else fairies put that money in that tea pot. As a single mom, nearly always underemployed and nearly always skint, there's no way I put that $800 in a tea pot and forgot about it. $800 in the late eighties was a fortune. To me.
Yesterday, doing my private version of circulating stuff I don't actually use, I went through a bit of clutter on the surface of a small accessory table in my living room. As I cleared away what was on that surface, and it was mostly junk mail, something shiny fell to the carpet.
I have a pair of simple, single tear drop, crystal earrings. I have owned them since the eighties. I remember buying them. A year or more ago, I lost one. I have looked again and again to find the second one. I felt sure it would turn up. I didn't give up, I guess, for if I had given up, I would have let go of the remaining earring. And I carefully checked on the remaining earring from time to time, almost as if to reassure the earring that its mate would be found.
I am amazed I found it.
And this is a little woo woo, but this is the second time I thought I had permanently lost one of these inexpensive earrings that I love. When I have both of them available, they are the only earrings I choose to wear. Once when I lived in Mountain View, I had lunch with a friend and a realtor she was interviewing to help her find a house down there. Suddenly she noticed one of my earrings was missing. I stood up in the cafe, shook all my clothing, had my friend look all over my body. We all checked the floor, table top, dishes. No earrings. A year or so later, that earrings turned up in my apartment. How did it get to my apartment if it had left my ear at that cafe downtown? I actually showed the found earring, and its twin, to my swim friend Kay (the one hiring a realtor) and she was disbelieving that I had found it.
I love these simple earrings more and more. I think I paid $20 for them, a lot for the simple earrings that they are. $20 around 1985 was a lot for such simple earrings. They are quality crystal but just one tear drop for each ear and a loop to dangle off my earlobe. They are Swarovski (sp?) crystal, so nice tear drops but very simple.
Anyway, once again I have both earrings available to wear. I missed them.
I am positive my current, private circulation drive will not yield $800. Gosh, I wish. I have need three grand for dental work that I don't have.
I am quite surprised by the deep shame I feel. I have felt very little shame in my whole life. I am ashamed, deeply deeply ashamed, that I am missing two adjacent molars, that I can't chew properly -- not at all. I think the shame I am feeling is related to money shame. I don't mind being poor. I don't mind not being able to buy new clothes, books, go to the theater or opera, etc. I feel humiliated that I can't afford dental care.
Woe is me.
rambling. as i do.
Presence/Love
Presence/Love is the practice of giving the gift
of ones awareness, attention, understanding,
mindfulness, and compassion to one's Self, others,
and the whole.
To be present (to love) is to hear, see, and love
oneself; as well as to hear, see, and love
others and the whole.
Presence/Love is the intention, invitation, and
willingness to be available for the experience
of interconnected relationship. And it demands
that we be aware of and responsive to both
ourselves and to others.
Presence/Love establishes a sense of interconnectedness
of Self, others and the whole that expresses itself
as a capacity to trust, the courage to act, and a
willingness to commit.
Presence/Love is an alignment that brings one
into clarity and harmony with what one perceives as
the higher aspirations, expectations, and needs of
Self, others, and the whole.
Presence/Love is accomplished by: reflecting on ones
own views, intentions, communications, behaviors,
and impacts on others and the whole; discerning
and rectifying the gap between one's intentions
and one's impacts; paying attention to the verbal
and non-verbal communication signals and behaviors
of others and the whole; inquiring into the gap
between the intentions and impacts of others and
the whole — on one Self, others, and the whole;
and the aspiration to achieve clarity and
equanimity throughout the network of interrelationships.
In Open Space Technology, the aspiration to achieve this
clarity and equanimity is accomplished from trust,
patience, silence, and embodying and continually
demonstrating "The Law" — taking responsibility for
what has heart and meaning for you — and holding
others accountable to do the same.
In my life, I have felt most loved when I have
experienced others as being fully “Present” to
me — unconditionally giving me
their awareness, attention, understanding,
mindfulness, and compassion. And I have felt
most loving when I have chosen to give my awareness, attention, understanding,
mindfulness, and compassion to others.
When I am most present, I am most loving.
When you are most present to me, I feel most
loved by you.
Living in Open Space provides a constant
opportunity for me to cultivate presence
as an authentic expression of my love for you.
Presence invokes the opening of space regardless
of the forms and structures of the interactions — be
they OST, AI, mediated, moderated, “talking heads”,
pillow talk, Noble Silence . . .
For me, presence is the practice of Open Space, and
it is a practice of peace — collective unconditional love
and understanding and interconnection.
“Open Space Technology can be a practice for cultivating love (presence) if we choose to embody it.
. . . if we choose to embody it . . .
