Sometimes I have moments during which I have the distinct feeling that I could love the entire world. I’m not talking about a hippie kind of we’re-all-connected-I-have-love-in-my-heart-for-everybody thing (although I mean that, too). I mean that I think I could fall in love with every single person I meet. How to explain this?
I know it’s probably sounding like a drug-induced sort of feeling, but it’s not. It’s actually usually a music-induced thing…live music in particular. I remember watching all the listeners and dancers at the Salsa stage during the jazz festival a few weeks ago and thinking to myself that this was the most beautiful group of individuals that had ever been gathered in one place. The thing is that it’s the most beautiful group of people EVERY SINGLE TIME, no matter who the people are, what kind of music it is, or where it’s all taking place. So, that said, I think it must have to do with the joy to be found in watching people let go and allow themselves the pleasure of abandon (“Let your mind go and your body will follow”).
I was trying to describe the feeling to my friend while we watched the salsa dancers. It’s like the music and the dancing reaches a sort of fevered frenzy, and when I look around it seems that every movement, every smile, the little beads of sweat forming on the surface of somebody’s sun-browned arm – it’s all frozen in time – little snapshots of euphoria, and there’s me standing or dancing nearby, trying to soak it all in and remember every single detail for future reference.
It’s at those moments when all I can see are awe-inspiring scenes everywhere, in every direction I turn: ‘that man has eyes a color that strikes me to my very soul.’ ‘the way that woman moves in her hip-hugging skirt and midriff top makes me feel like, if I touched her (even just accidentally brushed against her briefly), I would melt at her feet.’ Thoughts like these go through my head, and I find myself wishing against all hope that the music would never end and that there were, indeed, time enough in one person’s life to love everybody up close. I want to hear all their stories. I want to know them all and touch them all and be invited to their families’ houses for Thanksgiving. I want to read their diaries and look at their bookshelves and ask them all about their third grade teachers. I want to know what they’re most afraid of, and if it’s something of this world I want to go out and conquer it with them. “Sky diving? Let’s go next Saturday…we’ll have ‘em drop us somewhere over the Salinas Valley and we’ll see the amazing hills that Steinbeck spoke of, only as birds do, instead of humans.”
I think this all sounds kind of selfish…me here, wanting it all. But it’s just that there is so much to love out there, and what seems like an unfair amount of time in which to love it. If the universal waitress asked me what I was having, I'd answer that I wanted seven courses of life and an extra side of childhood (for good measure), plus a glass full of water from the Fountain of Youth to drink.
Somehow, though, I know I'd still be hungry.
Saturday, August 24, 2002
Tuesday, August 20, 2002
What is with these overcast mornings? I feel like I'm living in L.A. again. And that's a bad, bad feeling.
Not really. I actually feel pretty good, which I think is partially due to the fact that I returned to old stomping grounds last night...Cafecito's Open Mic...the grooviest place to be on a Monday or Thursday night. For anybody who doesn't live in San Jose or hasn't been to this place, I'll break it down. There are two different house bands that play at these open mics (both jazzy/funky), and they play in-between hearing from various musicians and poets (and sometimes freestyle hip-hop artists), all of whom are very talented. It used to be free, but most of the people there are students and I think they weren't buying any coffee or something because now it costs two dollars, but it is well worth the money. Going there is definitely a natural high (and necessarily, too...they don't sell alcohol, which is beautiful, because you get to see how amazing and expressive people can be all by themselves - without anything helping them reach another state of consciousness but their own talents). The performers are all very socially conscious and have so much positive energy to share that it always contagious. I'd been away from there all summer (obviously), but I also didn't make it all last semester because in my mind I was too busy. But that's bullshit. I could have made it if I would have just made the effort. And I pledge to this semester, because I think that if I don't allow myself that sort of outlet, I'm gonna go crazy. I just mapped out my schedule like a high school freshman because, between six classes and seven 1 1/2 hour sections of tutoring in the school's writing center (my new job), I know I'm gonna have a hard time remembering where I'm supposed to be at any given time.
I feel it...I can actually feel the freedom dripping out of me :) Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......................................
Not really. I actually feel pretty good, which I think is partially due to the fact that I returned to old stomping grounds last night...Cafecito's Open Mic...the grooviest place to be on a Monday or Thursday night. For anybody who doesn't live in San Jose or hasn't been to this place, I'll break it down. There are two different house bands that play at these open mics (both jazzy/funky), and they play in-between hearing from various musicians and poets (and sometimes freestyle hip-hop artists), all of whom are very talented. It used to be free, but most of the people there are students and I think they weren't buying any coffee or something because now it costs two dollars, but it is well worth the money. Going there is definitely a natural high (and necessarily, too...they don't sell alcohol, which is beautiful, because you get to see how amazing and expressive people can be all by themselves - without anything helping them reach another state of consciousness but their own talents). The performers are all very socially conscious and have so much positive energy to share that it always contagious. I'd been away from there all summer (obviously), but I also didn't make it all last semester because in my mind I was too busy. But that's bullshit. I could have made it if I would have just made the effort. And I pledge to this semester, because I think that if I don't allow myself that sort of outlet, I'm gonna go crazy. I just mapped out my schedule like a high school freshman because, between six classes and seven 1 1/2 hour sections of tutoring in the school's writing center (my new job), I know I'm gonna have a hard time remembering where I'm supposed to be at any given time.
I feel it...I can actually feel the freedom dripping out of me :) Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......................................
Monday, August 19, 2002
Okay, so the last time I started doing this I experienced one of those horrible computer-crashing-out-of-nowhere things and lost it all (again!), but I'm trying my luck now because I wore a summery dress today in order to make the sun come out from behind ugly grey clouds out and it worked, so I figure I'm magic today and magic people don't have computer crashes (do they?).
It's been roughly a week and a half since I returned to San Jose and I'm oh so happy to be back! I realized I missed ALL of it...all of the lovely, as well as the yucky (including, but not limited to: endless passing of cars all night right outside my window, many of them with thumping bass, pigeons (which I don't think exist in Colorado) and the ridiculousness of signs reading things like "Historic House Moving" as a euphemism for the mayor's heartless uprooting of really old houses with long-time residents in order to make room for the new city hall which will ensure his legacy). Yes, the city is a beautiful thing - as was the Jazz Festival (Salsa Stage, most especially), and the GREAT show I saw the other night at Plant 51 - an Ozomatli-esque group of fine, talented young men who call themselves the B-Side Players.
But there was business to take care of, too. I got a job in the writing center at school, which sounds like it will be challenging, and challenging is good. However, beyond the job, three weeks worth of laundry to contend with today, and the business of hanging out lazily in coffee shops catching up with friends, I've been exquisitely, thankfully, and pleasantly idle.
One can never be quite so idle without feeling a slight bit of guilt (if the "one" is me, anyway), so I decided I had to get some good reading in before school starts and I have to read what THEY tell me to read.
I decided to start with Camus' "The Stranger," which had shamefully sat unnoticed on my bookshelf for who knows how long. You know how you grow up your whole life hearing about books and movies that are supposed to be the Be All End All of books or movies....and then you finally get the chance to watch, say "Gone with the Wind" and you're all, "Wha?" "What the hell is so great about THIS movie, book, etc.?!" You know what that's like?
Well, "The Stranger" is nothing like that.
This is a book that has earned its place on the imaginery list of must-read books that might not necessarily be in THE CANON, per se, but everyone knows that you're supposed to have read them (The Canon, what a bunch of phony-balonieness that is, by the way). For any of you who haven't read it, this book is said to epitomize existential philosophy and all that jazz. I would normally be opposed to a work of fiction that attempts to present such a huge philosophical or spiritual idea ("The Celestine Prophecy" drove me nuts for that reason!) because if it's something as important as a philosophy about life, I'd prefer for authors to just come out and say what they mean, you dig? But this is the exception, and I'm not sure why, maybe just because it's so well-written.
Check this out: (the speaker is getting used to his new life of incarceration after having committed a murder) "Afterwards my only thoughts were those of a prisoner. I waited for the daily walk, which I took in the courtyard, or for a visit from my lawyer. The rest of the time I managed pretty well. At the time, I often thought that if I had had to live in the trunk of a dead tree, with nothing to do but look up at the sky flowering overhead, little by little I would have gotten used to it. I would have waited for birds to fly by or clouds to mingle, just as here I waited to see my lawyer's ties [the lawyer wears ugly neckties] and just as, in another world, I used to wait patiently until Saturday to hold Marie's body in my arms."
I love that passage. Anyway, what's interesting about the story is that the plight of poor Meursault (the story's main character) is presented in such a way that you can hardly blame him for his actions (for which he is ultimately sentenced to death), and you find yourself thinking like an existentialist (sympathizer, at the very least). In reading, I could see how society was constantly trying to impose a morality on the character based on the (unproven) idea that there is a god and that life holds some kind of deep meaning (if only in-reference to an afterlife). It's interesting, really. Meursault was only being honest, and yet nobody would believe that he put his mother in a nursing home or was able to kick up an affair with a woman the day after his mother's death, simply because he felt they no longer had anything to say to each other (he and his mother) and that he was ready to move on in his life. Only evil people behave with such utter absence of humanity, so they said.
I would like to think that I would have given young Meursault the benefit of the doubt, if I had known him in real life. But I knew a man just like that once, only he was named George, and really, I just thought George was an asshole. I would like to have the chance to know George now, though, because I would like to think that I could let him live his life and think in his way and not internalize everthing (which is usually what the problem is - internalizing - when people can't just let others live and have their opinions without taking issue with everything). And not that I advocate rampant murder or anything, but there are degrees of personal freedom, free of judgement, that I think humans should be entitled to.
Yeah, so, reading. That's been good. I've since nuzzled up with Kerouac's "Big Sur" for the second time around...if only for the pure pleasure of reading frenzied words put together in the strangest and yet most satisfying of ways.
One more week until school starts...I'm trying to soak it all in and slowly savor it...lick, instead of bite my way to the center of the Tootsie Roll Pop.
It's been roughly a week and a half since I returned to San Jose and I'm oh so happy to be back! I realized I missed ALL of it...all of the lovely, as well as the yucky (including, but not limited to: endless passing of cars all night right outside my window, many of them with thumping bass, pigeons (which I don't think exist in Colorado) and the ridiculousness of signs reading things like "Historic House Moving" as a euphemism for the mayor's heartless uprooting of really old houses with long-time residents in order to make room for the new city hall which will ensure his legacy). Yes, the city is a beautiful thing - as was the Jazz Festival (Salsa Stage, most especially), and the GREAT show I saw the other night at Plant 51 - an Ozomatli-esque group of fine, talented young men who call themselves the B-Side Players.
But there was business to take care of, too. I got a job in the writing center at school, which sounds like it will be challenging, and challenging is good. However, beyond the job, three weeks worth of laundry to contend with today, and the business of hanging out lazily in coffee shops catching up with friends, I've been exquisitely, thankfully, and pleasantly idle.
One can never be quite so idle without feeling a slight bit of guilt (if the "one" is me, anyway), so I decided I had to get some good reading in before school starts and I have to read what THEY tell me to read.
I decided to start with Camus' "The Stranger," which had shamefully sat unnoticed on my bookshelf for who knows how long. You know how you grow up your whole life hearing about books and movies that are supposed to be the Be All End All of books or movies....and then you finally get the chance to watch, say "Gone with the Wind" and you're all, "Wha?" "What the hell is so great about THIS movie, book, etc.?!" You know what that's like?
Well, "The Stranger" is nothing like that.
This is a book that has earned its place on the imaginery list of must-read books that might not necessarily be in THE CANON, per se, but everyone knows that you're supposed to have read them (The Canon, what a bunch of phony-balonieness that is, by the way). For any of you who haven't read it, this book is said to epitomize existential philosophy and all that jazz. I would normally be opposed to a work of fiction that attempts to present such a huge philosophical or spiritual idea ("The Celestine Prophecy" drove me nuts for that reason!) because if it's something as important as a philosophy about life, I'd prefer for authors to just come out and say what they mean, you dig? But this is the exception, and I'm not sure why, maybe just because it's so well-written.
Check this out: (the speaker is getting used to his new life of incarceration after having committed a murder) "Afterwards my only thoughts were those of a prisoner. I waited for the daily walk, which I took in the courtyard, or for a visit from my lawyer. The rest of the time I managed pretty well. At the time, I often thought that if I had had to live in the trunk of a dead tree, with nothing to do but look up at the sky flowering overhead, little by little I would have gotten used to it. I would have waited for birds to fly by or clouds to mingle, just as here I waited to see my lawyer's ties [the lawyer wears ugly neckties] and just as, in another world, I used to wait patiently until Saturday to hold Marie's body in my arms."
I love that passage. Anyway, what's interesting about the story is that the plight of poor Meursault (the story's main character) is presented in such a way that you can hardly blame him for his actions (for which he is ultimately sentenced to death), and you find yourself thinking like an existentialist (sympathizer, at the very least). In reading, I could see how society was constantly trying to impose a morality on the character based on the (unproven) idea that there is a god and that life holds some kind of deep meaning (if only in-reference to an afterlife). It's interesting, really. Meursault was only being honest, and yet nobody would believe that he put his mother in a nursing home or was able to kick up an affair with a woman the day after his mother's death, simply because he felt they no longer had anything to say to each other (he and his mother) and that he was ready to move on in his life. Only evil people behave with such utter absence of humanity, so they said.
I would like to think that I would have given young Meursault the benefit of the doubt, if I had known him in real life. But I knew a man just like that once, only he was named George, and really, I just thought George was an asshole. I would like to have the chance to know George now, though, because I would like to think that I could let him live his life and think in his way and not internalize everthing (which is usually what the problem is - internalizing - when people can't just let others live and have their opinions without taking issue with everything). And not that I advocate rampant murder or anything, but there are degrees of personal freedom, free of judgement, that I think humans should be entitled to.
Yeah, so, reading. That's been good. I've since nuzzled up with Kerouac's "Big Sur" for the second time around...if only for the pure pleasure of reading frenzied words put together in the strangest and yet most satisfying of ways.
One more week until school starts...I'm trying to soak it all in and slowly savor it...lick, instead of bite my way to the center of the Tootsie Roll Pop.
Tuesday, August 06, 2002
Sunday, August 04, 2002
Apparently I'm not the only one exploring the world of Buddhist thought...and I'm glad to hear it. My intelligent friend and neighbor Paul has reminded me that, along with compassion and a basic belief in inherent good, Buddhist idealogy emphasizes patience. I hope he won't mind if I include his own words..."I think more than just compassion though we also need patience (another tenet of Buddhist thought). We are all in such a hurry to change the world that we sometimes forget that it takes time for others to grasp the meaning of what were talking about or even allow them to explain why they are the way they are. Rather than be patient and allow people to adjust over time we become frustrated and immediately
discount their abilities to change. What then happens is these people feel misunderstood, frustrated themselves, and then angry which is then projected onto those that have tried to help. Having the best intentions, however lacking the necessary patience, those who wish to help end up causing more strife."
It's a thoughtful, important and interesting point. I was thinking about what he said about letting others have the chance to explain themselves. It occurred to me that - so often - when we ask questions of people who we know think and act really differently from ourselves, we aren't truly interested in the answers. We ask loaded questions and, beyond even anticipating the responses, we go as far as to be thinking ahead to OUR responses to their responses. Headway will never be made in this fashion. For a spirit of change to really take hold, we need to ask questions and then be open to hearing the responses...really HEARING them, listening to them. That is my challenge for myself.
My radiant and articulate friend Laurie also had some thoughts on the subject (with the Psych degree to back them up)...."Their [the Buddhist school's] take on Western Psychology (actually, through my cross-cultural studies, I’ve found that 99% of all psychology is STILL Western, actually, mostly AMERICAN WESTERN, and change is happening, but quite slow) is right on the mark, which is why most people don’t like going to see a “shrink,” since we look to them to control and fix us, as opposed to sitting next to us and guiding us." Guides...isn't that what we all want? Spiritual guides and human mentors...I mean, we ALL have something left to learn (some of us have lots and lots and LOTS to learn, starting with myself, of course).
Soooo much more yet to be figured out...never stop wondering, never stop learning.
I learned something about myself the other day - a very important something. I went out to breakfast with a few co-workers the other morning, after work. This was a goodbye sort of breakfast as it was one of my last nights at work and the friends that were there wouldn't be working on my actual last night. So, as I was pulling away from the parking lot, after a few hugs and the exchange of some "ahh, I like you, I'm gonna miss you" sentiments(only in Spanish), I found that I was crying. Like, I really WAS gonna miss these people. I know it's only been two months, but you can make some nice connections in two months...there are many, many warm and amazing people out there. And here's what I learned about myself: I'm tired of moving on. I used to feel like I had turned my heart off. I was so used to moving around the country and starting and quitting jobs and stuff, that I became de-sensitized to loss. I didn't miss people. I mean, I did from time to time, and there are people that I've chosen to keep in touch with over the years, but I didn't let the emotion really take hold in me, didn't feel the pain of it.
I think that's horrible. I think it shows a lack of understanding of human value and the importance of meaningful relationships (friendships and otherwise). I'm not like that anymore. The older I get, the more it hurts...just planting little seeds, sending down little baby roots, and then ripping everything up and moving on. I'm ready to settle in some more, which is partly why I can't wait to get back to San Jose. I've finally let myself call a place home, and been there long enough to where I can run into people I know walking down the street downtown. While I do want to come out to Colorado for graduate school eventually, I know it's gonna be really hard to leave San Jose (I can hear the snickers of all you people who have wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of Dodge, but I've been a lot of places, and I can say that, for me, San Jose holds a unique kind of charm, despite its urban sprawl and techie MADNESS). No more uprooting all the time. At some point, moving on is nothing more than just empty searching (for me at least). In the past, I've prided myself on not being afraid of change. But is being afraid of NOT changing any better? I feel like the proverbial bachelor...afraid to commit. I'm not talking about relationships here, but that thing I mentioned before - fear of sticking with something and seeing where it can take me, which includes just STAYING PUT for a little while!!!!
We'll see where this road leads....
discount their abilities to change. What then happens is these people feel misunderstood, frustrated themselves, and then angry which is then projected onto those that have tried to help. Having the best intentions, however lacking the necessary patience, those who wish to help end up causing more strife."
It's a thoughtful, important and interesting point. I was thinking about what he said about letting others have the chance to explain themselves. It occurred to me that - so often - when we ask questions of people who we know think and act really differently from ourselves, we aren't truly interested in the answers. We ask loaded questions and, beyond even anticipating the responses, we go as far as to be thinking ahead to OUR responses to their responses. Headway will never be made in this fashion. For a spirit of change to really take hold, we need to ask questions and then be open to hearing the responses...really HEARING them, listening to them. That is my challenge for myself.
My radiant and articulate friend Laurie also had some thoughts on the subject (with the Psych degree to back them up)...."Their [the Buddhist school's] take on Western Psychology (actually, through my cross-cultural studies, I’ve found that 99% of all psychology is STILL Western, actually, mostly AMERICAN WESTERN, and change is happening, but quite slow) is right on the mark, which is why most people don’t like going to see a “shrink,” since we look to them to control and fix us, as opposed to sitting next to us and guiding us." Guides...isn't that what we all want? Spiritual guides and human mentors...I mean, we ALL have something left to learn (some of us have lots and lots and LOTS to learn, starting with myself, of course).
Soooo much more yet to be figured out...never stop wondering, never stop learning.
I learned something about myself the other day - a very important something. I went out to breakfast with a few co-workers the other morning, after work. This was a goodbye sort of breakfast as it was one of my last nights at work and the friends that were there wouldn't be working on my actual last night. So, as I was pulling away from the parking lot, after a few hugs and the exchange of some "ahh, I like you, I'm gonna miss you" sentiments(only in Spanish), I found that I was crying. Like, I really WAS gonna miss these people. I know it's only been two months, but you can make some nice connections in two months...there are many, many warm and amazing people out there. And here's what I learned about myself: I'm tired of moving on. I used to feel like I had turned my heart off. I was so used to moving around the country and starting and quitting jobs and stuff, that I became de-sensitized to loss. I didn't miss people. I mean, I did from time to time, and there are people that I've chosen to keep in touch with over the years, but I didn't let the emotion really take hold in me, didn't feel the pain of it.
I think that's horrible. I think it shows a lack of understanding of human value and the importance of meaningful relationships (friendships and otherwise). I'm not like that anymore. The older I get, the more it hurts...just planting little seeds, sending down little baby roots, and then ripping everything up and moving on. I'm ready to settle in some more, which is partly why I can't wait to get back to San Jose. I've finally let myself call a place home, and been there long enough to where I can run into people I know walking down the street downtown. While I do want to come out to Colorado for graduate school eventually, I know it's gonna be really hard to leave San Jose (I can hear the snickers of all you people who have wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of Dodge, but I've been a lot of places, and I can say that, for me, San Jose holds a unique kind of charm, despite its urban sprawl and techie MADNESS). No more uprooting all the time. At some point, moving on is nothing more than just empty searching (for me at least). In the past, I've prided myself on not being afraid of change. But is being afraid of NOT changing any better? I feel like the proverbial bachelor...afraid to commit. I'm not talking about relationships here, but that thing I mentioned before - fear of sticking with something and seeing where it can take me, which includes just STAYING PUT for a little while!!!!
We'll see where this road leads....
Friday, August 02, 2002
Ahem. I saw something interesting tonight. I was waiting at a red light when I witnessed four grown men standing on the street corner, holding signs that said "Stop Immigration!!!!" One of the signs said "Help us take back OUR country" on the bottom, and another of the signs said "Non-whites are RUINING our land!!!!!!!!" Okay, I know I don't even really need to go into this any further....all the thoughts that ran through my head, all the questions I had for them, of all the ridiculous things!!!! But I found something interesting in my reaction to these men. I was baffled, a bit speechless (imagine that) and awestruck, but the one thing I didn't feel was anger. I felt it just briefly, but it didn't stay with me like it would have in the past. In the past I would have let the incident eat away at me until it reached the very core of my soul and maybe I'd get sick to my stomach or something. Tonight, I just thought "huh."
I wonder what Malcolm X would have to say about that. I know that anger was the driving force behind a lot of important social change that has transpired over the past couple of centuries (or millenia). Anger has served its purpose to an extent, and it will continue to, I just don't know if I want to live with it, personally.
I've been reading a lot over the past couple of days about a graduate program in psychology that has sparked my interest and that came to mind while I was gauging my reaction to these men. The program is called Contemplative Psychotherapy, and it is offered at a Buddhist school here in Boulder. All the programs at this (1,000 student) school are rooted in Buddhist idealogy (including their writing program, which was founded by Allen Ginsberg and is called the "Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics"), and meditation is a part of graduate studies every single semester. What interests me about this program is that it lends a spiritual hand to otherwise cold and clinical western psychology, and its participants are encouraged to find peace and presence in the moment in their own lives, as a way to understand people and the world around them. There is so much to it that it's hard to describe it all right now, but there were a few things that I was reading about in some of the program's literature that I thought were interesting, and which are giving me a different perspective on people and their (sometimes unfathomable) behavior.
One Buddhist monk (Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche) is describing his first experiences with the western world (in England) and how he reconciled them with his eastern background. He writes, "Buddhist psychology is based on the notion that human beings are fundamentally good. Their most basic qualities are positive ones: openness, intelligence, and warmth....Coming from a tradition that stresses human goodness, it was something of a shock for me to encounter the Western tradition of Original Sin. When I was at Oxford University, I studied Western religions and philoshical traditions with interest, and found the notion of original sin quite pervasive." In this particular case, the Rinpoche was talking about how the idea applies to western psychology, which sets up the hierarchical arrangement of sick patient and healthy doctor. The sick patient has done something wrong and the doctor is trying to "fix" the problem. The Buddhist idea is that people are fundamentally healthy by nature, and that through various forms of meditation, etc. people can find their way back to health, having temporarily departed from it (the reasons for this departure are not considered unimportant, but regression therapy and things like this would never be the focal point in this kind of therapy).
I know it seems I've gotten off the subject, and I probably have, but please indulge me. I often think about how we are products (to an extent) of our environment. Sometimes I look at guests of, say, the Jerry Springer Show and think how I shouldn't judge them because their experience could easily have been mine, had I been born where they were born, into families, financial, social, or educational situations like theirs. Even saying that sounds like a sort of judgement to me. It's hard to think of different without considering words like "better" or "preferrable," you know what I mean? Anyway, the Buddhist idea of inherent goodness, rather than guilt as a result of the actions of Adam and Eve and those that crucified Jesus, fits well with my outlook on things. These men on the street corner...they are not evil (is there really such a thing?). They just feel cheated out of the things they really wanted in their lives, and they are looking for something to blame their disappointments on.
Another central tenet of Buddhist theology is compassion. I like that. I think we can accomplish a lot more in the world by using compassion, than anger and war. I know there are MILLIONS of people out there that would disagree with me (they would say that Osama bin Laden is evil, Hitler, Rush Limbaugh, etc. and that they should be destroyed), but I just can't let go of the idea that peace is possible, when people look at the world with loving eyes. We spend so much time blaming. So much time feeling guilty, judging and being judged....looking around at other people and wondering why, damnit, they couldn't just be and act more like US!!!!! What a waste of time. What a lonely and depressing way to pass a lifetime. I mean, those men could have been spending a nice, quiet evening at home with their families playing Scrabble or something. Instead they're standing on a street corner feeling livid and inciting anger in others. And think about all the anger. They riled up the people that agree with them, and pissed off those that don't. One thing I can say for them....they made people think, and I've decided once and for all that thinking is a good thing :)
Ahhh. Breathe deep. On a lighter note...I got a great little bit of trivia from my friend JD the other day. It seems that there is a Walt Whitman Mall (yes, I said Mall) in Long Island!!!!!!!!!!!! I have to quote him here..."In Long Island there is a WALT WHITMAN MALL!!!! If that don't beat all huh?? I can just see that planning meeting.... "What can we think of that will make people want to buy stuff?? I know... Walt Whitman hated materialism so why not name the epitome of materialism after him!!! And we will call it Walt Whitman Mall!!" (picture the guy moving his hand in an arch with that far-off look in his eye)"
Awesome. Here's a site:
http://www.shopsimon.com/smt/servlet/SMTMall?mid=106&pn=ENTRY&rs=0
:)
Peace and love and joy to you all.
I wonder what Malcolm X would have to say about that. I know that anger was the driving force behind a lot of important social change that has transpired over the past couple of centuries (or millenia). Anger has served its purpose to an extent, and it will continue to, I just don't know if I want to live with it, personally.
I've been reading a lot over the past couple of days about a graduate program in psychology that has sparked my interest and that came to mind while I was gauging my reaction to these men. The program is called Contemplative Psychotherapy, and it is offered at a Buddhist school here in Boulder. All the programs at this (1,000 student) school are rooted in Buddhist idealogy (including their writing program, which was founded by Allen Ginsberg and is called the "Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics"), and meditation is a part of graduate studies every single semester. What interests me about this program is that it lends a spiritual hand to otherwise cold and clinical western psychology, and its participants are encouraged to find peace and presence in the moment in their own lives, as a way to understand people and the world around them. There is so much to it that it's hard to describe it all right now, but there were a few things that I was reading about in some of the program's literature that I thought were interesting, and which are giving me a different perspective on people and their (sometimes unfathomable) behavior.
One Buddhist monk (Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche) is describing his first experiences with the western world (in England) and how he reconciled them with his eastern background. He writes, "Buddhist psychology is based on the notion that human beings are fundamentally good. Their most basic qualities are positive ones: openness, intelligence, and warmth....Coming from a tradition that stresses human goodness, it was something of a shock for me to encounter the Western tradition of Original Sin. When I was at Oxford University, I studied Western religions and philoshical traditions with interest, and found the notion of original sin quite pervasive." In this particular case, the Rinpoche was talking about how the idea applies to western psychology, which sets up the hierarchical arrangement of sick patient and healthy doctor. The sick patient has done something wrong and the doctor is trying to "fix" the problem. The Buddhist idea is that people are fundamentally healthy by nature, and that through various forms of meditation, etc. people can find their way back to health, having temporarily departed from it (the reasons for this departure are not considered unimportant, but regression therapy and things like this would never be the focal point in this kind of therapy).
I know it seems I've gotten off the subject, and I probably have, but please indulge me. I often think about how we are products (to an extent) of our environment. Sometimes I look at guests of, say, the Jerry Springer Show and think how I shouldn't judge them because their experience could easily have been mine, had I been born where they were born, into families, financial, social, or educational situations like theirs. Even saying that sounds like a sort of judgement to me. It's hard to think of different without considering words like "better" or "preferrable," you know what I mean? Anyway, the Buddhist idea of inherent goodness, rather than guilt as a result of the actions of Adam and Eve and those that crucified Jesus, fits well with my outlook on things. These men on the street corner...they are not evil (is there really such a thing?). They just feel cheated out of the things they really wanted in their lives, and they are looking for something to blame their disappointments on.
Another central tenet of Buddhist theology is compassion. I like that. I think we can accomplish a lot more in the world by using compassion, than anger and war. I know there are MILLIONS of people out there that would disagree with me (they would say that Osama bin Laden is evil, Hitler, Rush Limbaugh, etc. and that they should be destroyed), but I just can't let go of the idea that peace is possible, when people look at the world with loving eyes. We spend so much time blaming. So much time feeling guilty, judging and being judged....looking around at other people and wondering why, damnit, they couldn't just be and act more like US!!!!! What a waste of time. What a lonely and depressing way to pass a lifetime. I mean, those men could have been spending a nice, quiet evening at home with their families playing Scrabble or something. Instead they're standing on a street corner feeling livid and inciting anger in others. And think about all the anger. They riled up the people that agree with them, and pissed off those that don't. One thing I can say for them....they made people think, and I've decided once and for all that thinking is a good thing :)
Ahhh. Breathe deep. On a lighter note...I got a great little bit of trivia from my friend JD the other day. It seems that there is a Walt Whitman Mall (yes, I said Mall) in Long Island!!!!!!!!!!!! I have to quote him here..."In Long Island there is a WALT WHITMAN MALL!!!! If that don't beat all huh?? I can just see that planning meeting.... "What can we think of that will make people want to buy stuff?? I know... Walt Whitman hated materialism so why not name the epitome of materialism after him!!! And we will call it Walt Whitman Mall!!" (picture the guy moving his hand in an arch with that far-off look in his eye)"
Awesome. Here's a site:
http://www.shopsimon.com/smt/servlet/SMTMall?mid=106&pn=ENTRY&rs=0
:)
Peace and love and joy to you all.
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