As I was driving the long way to work one day, I found myself noticing places where traffic seemed to flow to, but where I had never ventured. I wondered and still wonder where those roads go.
It then occurred to me that 21st century technology has taken something away from us--we are no longer "browsers". I can remember the days when all I had in the car was a Hagstrom road map, and I would just drive around investigating various places. If I was lost, I could just turn to my map. I learned a lot about the state that I live in from doing this. Similarly, within a library or bookstore, I like to poke around and see what's available under a particular topic. There's no particular idea or destination, we're "just looking", and in that browse without a purpose, we sometimes achieve something called "serendipity". We discover places and things that we may not have if we were trying to get to a definite place, or were looking for a specific item.
Of course, one can still benefit from serendipity while browsing, even if someone has a purpose in mind. While looking for one particular book, we may find it and notice others nearby that also look good. Sometimes we find something better. I'm amazed at how many people don't realize that libraries are arranged by subject. The numbers assigned by the library and neatly typed on a spine label all refer to a specific subject. Public library users are better browsers than academic library users. But academic library users usually are on a mission, researching a specific topic, finding materials for a paper. They could still benefit from browsing.
But most people don't browse anymore. They get from point A to point B via GPS. Newsbiscuit (a UK satire paper) had an article: "32% rely on smartphone to cross a road." It's a joke article, but like all satire, there's a grain of truth there. One still finds browsing in libraries and bookstores, but many have abandoned such searches in favor of online resources or e-books. The trend is towards going to a specific place, and looking for a specific thing. There must be an "end point".
I suspect that a lot of this may be due to information overload. I remember the term "information superhighway" that was big in the 1990s, and though the Internet was hardly all that back then, it certainly is more than that now. It's impossible to keep up, impossible to weed through vast amounts of information. So, we hide in the few RSS feeds that we like to read, and when searching elsewhere we don't poke around beyond the second page of a Google search or an Ebsco database search. We grab the first thing that looks good.
I had a reading with psychic Jane Doherty the other day. We were talking about publishing, and she told me she'd been disheartened to learn from an agent that most people don't read past the first three chapters of a book. In the past, one could publish a work based on merit and expertise. Today, it's all "bottom line", whether or not the author already has a following that will buy the book, and how attractive the cover is to readers. What's on the actual pages means very little. I suspect that this is also part of the fallout from the great information glut.
Years ago in the MLS program I was in, we had a course called "Knowledge Representation for Information Retrieval". (It was as exciting as it sounds.) One concept I recall clearly from that class was the idea of "appropriateness of interface". Put simply, certain interfaces are better for certain tasks. Electronic interfaces are better when you are looking for specific information, and trying to track down a certain item--for instance, a doctor searching a diagnostic manual for a particular illness or symptom. Book interfaces are better for content that is actually to be "read" and not merely "referenced". Of course, this particular conception of appropriateness existed at a time before eReaders, which have become more ubiquitous since then. But even still--most eReaders have features that let you search within the text to find a specific thing. I'm not denying the usefulness of this, but it's not browsing, or the same kind of browsing.
Library catalogs have shifted focus as well. The default search used to be Browse--by author, title, or subject. For at least the last 15 years, the default search is general keyword, which one might argue gives more results than browse, but it also requires you to look through more garbage. (Refer back to the idea that no one likes to look through more than 2 pages of results.) One might argue that catalog "browse" was hardly browsing at all, because you had to know a specific author, title, or pre-determined subject. But one CAN start with a keyword search and use modern browse to do some real catalog browsing. The trouble is that no one really knows how to do that anymore (including many librarians), and it's no longer taught in library education, or at least not emphasized.
Bookstores might be one of the few browsing places left, but these are getting more scarce. When I sit in a Barnes & Noble with a coffee, I watch people who come in to the store. While assuredly there are some browsers, for the most part I see people charge straight up to the information desk and ask for a specific thing. I see more and more inquiries about eReaders.
None of this is "bad"--in a culture where we are always pressed for time, we are always looking for the most efficient ways to do things. But I do think there is a loss in being so pressed for time, and I wonder why we are so pressed for time. Often times we are just in a hurry to go nowhere, if we really think about it. When life runs along such straight lines, with a destination always in mind, one falls into the cliched trap of "not seeing the forest for the trees". A fear of information overload makes us avoid looking at the bigger picture. And high gas prices probably keep us from doing more meandering in our cars.
The world has changed, maybe for the better, maybe not, but I do wonder what will happen to our lives if we lose the inclination to "browse" entirely. It seems to me that this denies us the experience of everything life has to offer. I can't help but feel that we are becoming overly "rationalized", to the point that everything we do must be functional somehow, and that makes us machines, not humans.
Sunday, March 04, 2012
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Stories
There is a great satisfaction in revising stories, and finally being able to leave them in a place you're comfortable with. I am almost done revising a batch of stories I've been working on for some time, and already have ideas for another set. But old business needs to be tidied up before starting new business.
In the meantime, I have been spending my leisure time enjoying the short stories of others. I find I am not quite ready to get drawn into a novel, so I go back to old favorites, and re-read collections, realizing how many good stories I'd forgotten about.
My friend Phil recently sent me a copy of "Lovecraft's Library", which is a bibliographic reconstruction of books that were owned by H.P. Lovecraft. S.T. Joshi, the famous Lovecraft scholar who created the compilation, notes the difficulties in creating the list, as his library was disseminated after his death, and the woman who was asked by Lovecraft's aunt to make a bibliography of everything there really didn't understand what she was looking at. In short--among other types of works in the collection, Lovecraft had one of the greatest collections of weird fiction from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Hence, this bibliography has done a lot to fill me in on what I've missed. I've probably read every Victorian ghost story anthology on the popular market dozens of times, so this has been helpful in letting me see what I've missed--and hopefully to acquire it.
Among my own collections, I can make a few recommendations of anthologies worth owning, if you like short stories that deal with the weird, the macabre, or the supernatural--or just plain well-written.
1. M.R. James--"Casting the Runes and Other Stories". This is an Oxford University Press paperback edition. There are many collections of James's works out there, and out of all of them, I find this one to hold the cream of the crop. James's specters are usually demonic in nature, or are apparitions that solely exist based on fear. All of them give you a flavor of European and English villages around the turn of the century, as many of his scholarly protagonists make their studies of old churches, crumbling ruins, and archaeological sites.
"The Scrapbook of Canon Alberic", "The Stalls at Barchester Cathedral", and "An Episode of Cathedral History" are favorites of mine, along with "The Malice of Inanimate Objects", which I often refer to on those days when I feel like I'm being attacked by the furniture, appliances, and crockery in my house. All the stories are interesting and worth reading.
2. "Haunted America", selected by Marvin Kaye (Doubleday, 1990). This anthology has a wide variety of spooky stories, many available in other anthologies. However, this is the only anthology where I've seen Manly Wade Wellman's story, "Nobody Ever Goes There", which provides an unexpected creepiness for some reason. The classic Mary Wilkins Freeman story, "The Vacant Lot" is also in this collection, along with stories by H.P. Lovecraft, Edith Wharton, Henry James, and Washington Irving.
3. "The Haunted Looking Glass", selected by Edward Gorey. (various editions). This is one of my all-time favorites. I first saw this book at an aunt's house, when I was a teenager bored of adult conversation, and wandered into her front library room. As you know I'm a big fan of Edward Gorey's own books and illustrations, so this caught my attention for that right off. It is an exceptional anthology, featuring Algernon Blackwood's, "The Empty House" (one of my favorite Blackwood stories), E. Nesbit's creepy "Man Sized in Marble", as well as classics from Charles Dickens ("The Signalman", the only one of his ghost stories that really keeps my attention), R.L. Stevenson, and Wilkie Collins.
4. Ray Bradbury--"The October Country." I got myself a copy of the original British hardback publication of this, as I prefer the artwork in that edition to that of more contemporary editions. However, regardless of which format you choose, the stories themselves are very creepy, and very original. "The Dwarf", "Skeleton", "The Next in Line", "The Small Assassin", and "The Scythe" are all disturbing favorites of mine.
5. H.P. Lovecraft--"The Best of H.P. Lovecraft--Bloodcurdling Tales of Horror and the Macabre" (Ballantine Books paperback ed., introduced by Robert Bloch). There are many Lovecraft collections out there, but many of them incorporate stories from his imitators. Some of the imitators are reasonably good (Robert Bloch), others not so good (August Derleth), and overall, when I want to read Lovecraft, I want to read the originals. If I want to read the Lovecraft-esque material, I'd rather peruse that separately. Lovecraft does not create a battle between good and evil--his monsters are the blind, indifferent forces of the universe. His successors tend towards the former rather than the latter. In any event--this collection has "Pickman's Model", by far one of Lovecraft's most spine-chilling stories, as well as "The Call of Cthulhu", "The Dreams in the Witch House", "The Shadow Out of Time" and "The Dunwich Horror", along with all his other classics.
6. Washington Irving--"The Sketchbook of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent." This is a great collection of American folklore, including the famous "Legend of Sleepy Hollow" and "Rip Van Winkle," and also includes essays and stories from his travels abroad. There are writings on Westminster Abbey and Stratford-Upon-Avon, as well as observations on English country life in the late 19th century. Another famous Irving ghost story, "The Spectre Bridegroom", is also in this work.
7. Umberto Eco--"Misreadings". (Harcourt Brace, translated 1993). Eco is widely known for his novels and works in semiotics, but it's rare to see a short story collection. I found this one at an antiquarian book fair some years ago. The stories have a sense of humor unique to Eco--if you've read his novels, his literary satire makes perfect sense. Among those in this collection is "Granita", a take on "Lolita" featuring an old woman in a nursing home as the object of affection rather than a 14-year-old girl, "The News from Heaven", which purports to be just that from a disgruntled soul, and "The Phenomenology of Mike Bongiorno", about a wealthy celebrity who is not very smart, and is a "living and triumphant example of the value of mediocrity". A brilliant read.
8. Ambrose Bierce--"The Collected Writings of Ambrose Bierce." (Citadel Press, 1947). Bierce is one of my favorite American satire authors, next to Mark Twain. (I am more fond of Twain's essays than I am of his fiction--with Bierce, I am fond of both.) This anthology divides Bierce's work into that dealing with his military/Civil war themes ("An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge" being one of the most famous), the full text of "The Devil's Dictionary" (Comfort: a state of mind produced by contemplation of a neighbor's uneasiness. Brute: see "Husband"), and his collection of supernatural stories, including "The Damned Thing" (similar to M.R. James's "Oh Whistle and I'll Come to You My Lad") and "An Inhabitant of Carcosa."
There are many more good anthologies, but these are the favorites at the moment. Gogo Manley and Sean Lewis have edited many fine Gorey-illustrated anthologies, and Dover, Oxford, and Running Press have produced many more.
Now back to revisions for me...and some more reading...
In the meantime, I have been spending my leisure time enjoying the short stories of others. I find I am not quite ready to get drawn into a novel, so I go back to old favorites, and re-read collections, realizing how many good stories I'd forgotten about.
My friend Phil recently sent me a copy of "Lovecraft's Library", which is a bibliographic reconstruction of books that were owned by H.P. Lovecraft. S.T. Joshi, the famous Lovecraft scholar who created the compilation, notes the difficulties in creating the list, as his library was disseminated after his death, and the woman who was asked by Lovecraft's aunt to make a bibliography of everything there really didn't understand what she was looking at. In short--among other types of works in the collection, Lovecraft had one of the greatest collections of weird fiction from the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Hence, this bibliography has done a lot to fill me in on what I've missed. I've probably read every Victorian ghost story anthology on the popular market dozens of times, so this has been helpful in letting me see what I've missed--and hopefully to acquire it.
Among my own collections, I can make a few recommendations of anthologies worth owning, if you like short stories that deal with the weird, the macabre, or the supernatural--or just plain well-written.
1. M.R. James--"Casting the Runes and Other Stories". This is an Oxford University Press paperback edition. There are many collections of James's works out there, and out of all of them, I find this one to hold the cream of the crop. James's specters are usually demonic in nature, or are apparitions that solely exist based on fear. All of them give you a flavor of European and English villages around the turn of the century, as many of his scholarly protagonists make their studies of old churches, crumbling ruins, and archaeological sites.
"The Scrapbook of Canon Alberic", "The Stalls at Barchester Cathedral", and "An Episode of Cathedral History" are favorites of mine, along with "The Malice of Inanimate Objects", which I often refer to on those days when I feel like I'm being attacked by the furniture, appliances, and crockery in my house. All the stories are interesting and worth reading.
2. "Haunted America", selected by Marvin Kaye (Doubleday, 1990). This anthology has a wide variety of spooky stories, many available in other anthologies. However, this is the only anthology where I've seen Manly Wade Wellman's story, "Nobody Ever Goes There", which provides an unexpected creepiness for some reason. The classic Mary Wilkins Freeman story, "The Vacant Lot" is also in this collection, along with stories by H.P. Lovecraft, Edith Wharton, Henry James, and Washington Irving.
3. "The Haunted Looking Glass", selected by Edward Gorey. (various editions). This is one of my all-time favorites. I first saw this book at an aunt's house, when I was a teenager bored of adult conversation, and wandered into her front library room. As you know I'm a big fan of Edward Gorey's own books and illustrations, so this caught my attention for that right off. It is an exceptional anthology, featuring Algernon Blackwood's, "The Empty House" (one of my favorite Blackwood stories), E. Nesbit's creepy "Man Sized in Marble", as well as classics from Charles Dickens ("The Signalman", the only one of his ghost stories that really keeps my attention), R.L. Stevenson, and Wilkie Collins.
4. Ray Bradbury--"The October Country." I got myself a copy of the original British hardback publication of this, as I prefer the artwork in that edition to that of more contemporary editions. However, regardless of which format you choose, the stories themselves are very creepy, and very original. "The Dwarf", "Skeleton", "The Next in Line", "The Small Assassin", and "The Scythe" are all disturbing favorites of mine.
5. H.P. Lovecraft--"The Best of H.P. Lovecraft--Bloodcurdling Tales of Horror and the Macabre" (Ballantine Books paperback ed., introduced by Robert Bloch). There are many Lovecraft collections out there, but many of them incorporate stories from his imitators. Some of the imitators are reasonably good (Robert Bloch), others not so good (August Derleth), and overall, when I want to read Lovecraft, I want to read the originals. If I want to read the Lovecraft-esque material, I'd rather peruse that separately. Lovecraft does not create a battle between good and evil--his monsters are the blind, indifferent forces of the universe. His successors tend towards the former rather than the latter. In any event--this collection has "Pickman's Model", by far one of Lovecraft's most spine-chilling stories, as well as "The Call of Cthulhu", "The Dreams in the Witch House", "The Shadow Out of Time" and "The Dunwich Horror", along with all his other classics.
6. Washington Irving--"The Sketchbook of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent." This is a great collection of American folklore, including the famous "Legend of Sleepy Hollow" and "Rip Van Winkle," and also includes essays and stories from his travels abroad. There are writings on Westminster Abbey and Stratford-Upon-Avon, as well as observations on English country life in the late 19th century. Another famous Irving ghost story, "The Spectre Bridegroom", is also in this work.
7. Umberto Eco--"Misreadings". (Harcourt Brace, translated 1993). Eco is widely known for his novels and works in semiotics, but it's rare to see a short story collection. I found this one at an antiquarian book fair some years ago. The stories have a sense of humor unique to Eco--if you've read his novels, his literary satire makes perfect sense. Among those in this collection is "Granita", a take on "Lolita" featuring an old woman in a nursing home as the object of affection rather than a 14-year-old girl, "The News from Heaven", which purports to be just that from a disgruntled soul, and "The Phenomenology of Mike Bongiorno", about a wealthy celebrity who is not very smart, and is a "living and triumphant example of the value of mediocrity". A brilliant read.
8. Ambrose Bierce--"The Collected Writings of Ambrose Bierce." (Citadel Press, 1947). Bierce is one of my favorite American satire authors, next to Mark Twain. (I am more fond of Twain's essays than I am of his fiction--with Bierce, I am fond of both.) This anthology divides Bierce's work into that dealing with his military/Civil war themes ("An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge" being one of the most famous), the full text of "The Devil's Dictionary" (Comfort: a state of mind produced by contemplation of a neighbor's uneasiness. Brute: see "Husband"), and his collection of supernatural stories, including "The Damned Thing" (similar to M.R. James's "Oh Whistle and I'll Come to You My Lad") and "An Inhabitant of Carcosa."
There are many more good anthologies, but these are the favorites at the moment. Gogo Manley and Sean Lewis have edited many fine Gorey-illustrated anthologies, and Dover, Oxford, and Running Press have produced many more.
Now back to revisions for me...and some more reading...
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Birth Control (A Rant)
Just when I thought the United States right-wing couldn't get any crazier, they once again proved me wrong. Now, with the inexplicable surge in popularity of Republican Presidential candidate Rick Santorum, (just add an "a" and an "i" in there strategically, and he could be a lunatic asylum), there are discussions about abortion, birth control, and a sudden passage of state bills (all unconstitutional) that grant "personhood" to a zygote.
I have avoided this discussion in the past, but really now. As a female American citizen I am under the (apparent) delusion that I am free, and that I can pursue life, liberty, and happiness in my own way. Whereas Rick Santorum and those who have jumped on his bandwagon for the moment, feel I can pursue those things, as long as it follows a religious dogma that says I am nothing more than cattle, and just a container for babies. And naturally, as a woman, this is my only purpose in life.
First, let's identify the mythology here. There is this notion of Woman as Mother--even the esteemed Joseph Campbell talked about the fully developed Woman realizing her personal mystery as Mother. Perhaps that was the case in the past, but for many of us, our "motherly" instincts are reserved for other things--like our cats. Never mind that men have "motherly" instincts too--all humans, regardless of sex, have all archetypes within them.
In any event--Women are supposed to want Marriage and Family and to nurture Children. Again, in previous centuries, this may have made some sense. When populations were dying out, there was a need to create more people. Now, in a world where there are 7 billion people, I'm not sure why these people wouldn't think that Nature/God/Whatever wouldn't put the thoughts into our head, "enough is enough"? Our natural resources are stretched thin. I'm not against people having children who want them, but no woman should be made to feel it is her role and responsibility. In the past, women had lots of kids, because half of them usually died. That's not the case in this day and age.
Politically, the center of this debate has been President Obama saying that part of the National Healthcare Law says that Catholic charities and hospitals must provide birth control. They cried foul, so he reached a compromise--the insurers must provide the birth control, the organization does not have to, and doesn't have to pay for it. A very nice concession, considering that Catholic charities have 62% of their budget from government sources, and all that tax exempt. I'd say the government has the right to dictate how that money is used. In fact--I know ministers (non-Catholic) who provide women's health services and don't accept federal money because of the restrictions they face. And while others might be struggling, I am sure the Roman Catholic Church has plenty of money. Which is why I question why they take money from a secular government they don't agree with on such matters, and why they expect parishioners to pay for the "indiscretions" of pedophiliac priests. But that is a digression.
We live in a secular country, which, as I've noted before, gives preference to NO belief, and inhibits none, inasmuch as it follows the law. Obama's compromise is the ideal secular compromise--it doesn't make organizations do something outside of their religion, while still guaranteeing the rights of an American citizen to those who work for them.
I will tell you something about birth control. It is used for its obvious purpose, but also for other things. Birth control pills are frequently used as a treatment for ovarian cysts--which get to be big and painful, and sometimes debilitating to the point of hospitalization and surgery. Taking birth control can suppress these cysts, because birth control is largely made up of hormones. It can also ease the pain and suffering associated with menstruation--both psychological and physical.
There is the urban legend about the woman who sent a letter to a "Mr. Thatcher", a manager for Proctor and Gamble, when the slogan "Have a Happy Period" appeared on Always feminine hygiene products. Here is a relevant excerpt:
What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness — actual smiling, laughing happiness — is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything "happy" about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlúa and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreens armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man. If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like "Put Down the Hammer" or "Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong"? Or are you just picking on us?
You may laugh at this, but before I started taking birth control pills, this was an accurate description of me at the time of my "monthly cycle". Besides the near-murderous rage you can experience for no good reason at all, there is the pain and suffering that comes from 8 straight days of bleeding, and feeling like you are being stabbed in the gut every 7 minutes or so. It makes the Biblical plagues of Egypt, including the rivers of blood, look like a forecast of "30% chance of showers". Inevitably this would mean a day of work missed each month. (I had a relative with a similar situation in the 1950s--she was in so much pain she had to call out from work. As a result she was fired for being "unreliable".) On the pill--yeah, I'm a little sensitive just beforehand, and I have some pain, but not anywhere near what I have without the pill. And I lose hardly any blood, as those hormones keep me within a moderate and sensible three-days of "menstruation". (Sorry to get so personal, but if you don't like it--blame our idiot Congress, who has the nerve to even raise the personal question.) And I don't miss work on its account.
My point is that a lot of this is about curtailing the rights of women--it really has nothing to do with "protecting" me, or protecting some "thing" that couldn't live on its own, and grows inside my body like a parasite. You may think that sounds harsh, but that's how a pregnant woman who doesn't want children feels about a pregnancy. Pregnancy is hard on a woman's body--and I'm not putting my body through that unless I want it. The government has no business telling me who and who not to sleep with, and under what circumstances. In Santorum's world, if a woman is raped and gets an abortion, she would be treated like a murderer. In fact, Utah had a law (don't know if it passed or was overturned) that suggested that even miscarriage should be investigated as manslaughter. Any of these people ever read "The Handmaid's Tale"? And does it even occur to them that this is where they're going?
Let's get something straight here. All this pro-life BS is just that--these are the same people that would fire a woman who got pregnant if they could get around family leave laws. Even with family leave, the woman doesn't get paid for some of that time--she's just allowed to return to her job. But even besides that--there are not laws in place that protect the child. Lawmakers wanted to deny mandatory health insurance to children, do not support education initiatives--and many of these so called "pro-lifers" support the death penalty and war. (The Catholic Church has a document on the doctrine of "just war".) So, don't tell me it's because you value human life so much. Clearly some lives are more important than others. And clearly you don't care beyond the woman actually giving birth, potentially ruining her health, and the rest of her life. (I'm not talking about the Church as a whole here--I'm talking about the politicians. Some Catholics care very much about all these things, as do people of other faiths or non-faith).
In a secular society, the government has no business whatsoever making laws that turn women into containers for fetuses, and giving fetuses more rights than the mother. And shame on the Catholic bishops for making this an issue--your religion has so much more to offer, and you focus on issues that will render your whole organization anti-human, (even more) hypocritical, and irrelevant.
I will end with Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, and Saturday Night Live on this issue. It is fitting that comedians comment on something that is such a joke.
I have avoided this discussion in the past, but really now. As a female American citizen I am under the (apparent) delusion that I am free, and that I can pursue life, liberty, and happiness in my own way. Whereas Rick Santorum and those who have jumped on his bandwagon for the moment, feel I can pursue those things, as long as it follows a religious dogma that says I am nothing more than cattle, and just a container for babies. And naturally, as a woman, this is my only purpose in life.
First, let's identify the mythology here. There is this notion of Woman as Mother--even the esteemed Joseph Campbell talked about the fully developed Woman realizing her personal mystery as Mother. Perhaps that was the case in the past, but for many of us, our "motherly" instincts are reserved for other things--like our cats. Never mind that men have "motherly" instincts too--all humans, regardless of sex, have all archetypes within them.
In any event--Women are supposed to want Marriage and Family and to nurture Children. Again, in previous centuries, this may have made some sense. When populations were dying out, there was a need to create more people. Now, in a world where there are 7 billion people, I'm not sure why these people wouldn't think that Nature/God/Whatever wouldn't put the thoughts into our head, "enough is enough"? Our natural resources are stretched thin. I'm not against people having children who want them, but no woman should be made to feel it is her role and responsibility. In the past, women had lots of kids, because half of them usually died. That's not the case in this day and age.
Politically, the center of this debate has been President Obama saying that part of the National Healthcare Law says that Catholic charities and hospitals must provide birth control. They cried foul, so he reached a compromise--the insurers must provide the birth control, the organization does not have to, and doesn't have to pay for it. A very nice concession, considering that Catholic charities have 62% of their budget from government sources, and all that tax exempt. I'd say the government has the right to dictate how that money is used. In fact--I know ministers (non-Catholic) who provide women's health services and don't accept federal money because of the restrictions they face. And while others might be struggling, I am sure the Roman Catholic Church has plenty of money. Which is why I question why they take money from a secular government they don't agree with on such matters, and why they expect parishioners to pay for the "indiscretions" of pedophiliac priests. But that is a digression.
We live in a secular country, which, as I've noted before, gives preference to NO belief, and inhibits none, inasmuch as it follows the law. Obama's compromise is the ideal secular compromise--it doesn't make organizations do something outside of their religion, while still guaranteeing the rights of an American citizen to those who work for them.
I will tell you something about birth control. It is used for its obvious purpose, but also for other things. Birth control pills are frequently used as a treatment for ovarian cysts--which get to be big and painful, and sometimes debilitating to the point of hospitalization and surgery. Taking birth control can suppress these cysts, because birth control is largely made up of hormones. It can also ease the pain and suffering associated with menstruation--both psychological and physical.
There is the urban legend about the woman who sent a letter to a "Mr. Thatcher", a manager for Proctor and Gamble, when the slogan "Have a Happy Period" appeared on Always feminine hygiene products. Here is a relevant excerpt:
What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness — actual smiling, laughing happiness — is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything "happy" about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlúa and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreens armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man. If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like "Put Down the Hammer" or "Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong"? Or are you just picking on us?
You may laugh at this, but before I started taking birth control pills, this was an accurate description of me at the time of my "monthly cycle". Besides the near-murderous rage you can experience for no good reason at all, there is the pain and suffering that comes from 8 straight days of bleeding, and feeling like you are being stabbed in the gut every 7 minutes or so. It makes the Biblical plagues of Egypt, including the rivers of blood, look like a forecast of "30% chance of showers". Inevitably this would mean a day of work missed each month. (I had a relative with a similar situation in the 1950s--she was in so much pain she had to call out from work. As a result she was fired for being "unreliable".) On the pill--yeah, I'm a little sensitive just beforehand, and I have some pain, but not anywhere near what I have without the pill. And I lose hardly any blood, as those hormones keep me within a moderate and sensible three-days of "menstruation". (Sorry to get so personal, but if you don't like it--blame our idiot Congress, who has the nerve to even raise the personal question.) And I don't miss work on its account.
My point is that a lot of this is about curtailing the rights of women--it really has nothing to do with "protecting" me, or protecting some "thing" that couldn't live on its own, and grows inside my body like a parasite. You may think that sounds harsh, but that's how a pregnant woman who doesn't want children feels about a pregnancy. Pregnancy is hard on a woman's body--and I'm not putting my body through that unless I want it. The government has no business telling me who and who not to sleep with, and under what circumstances. In Santorum's world, if a woman is raped and gets an abortion, she would be treated like a murderer. In fact, Utah had a law (don't know if it passed or was overturned) that suggested that even miscarriage should be investigated as manslaughter. Any of these people ever read "The Handmaid's Tale"? And does it even occur to them that this is where they're going?
Let's get something straight here. All this pro-life BS is just that--these are the same people that would fire a woman who got pregnant if they could get around family leave laws. Even with family leave, the woman doesn't get paid for some of that time--she's just allowed to return to her job. But even besides that--there are not laws in place that protect the child. Lawmakers wanted to deny mandatory health insurance to children, do not support education initiatives--and many of these so called "pro-lifers" support the death penalty and war. (The Catholic Church has a document on the doctrine of "just war".) So, don't tell me it's because you value human life so much. Clearly some lives are more important than others. And clearly you don't care beyond the woman actually giving birth, potentially ruining her health, and the rest of her life. (I'm not talking about the Church as a whole here--I'm talking about the politicians. Some Catholics care very much about all these things, as do people of other faiths or non-faith).
In a secular society, the government has no business whatsoever making laws that turn women into containers for fetuses, and giving fetuses more rights than the mother. And shame on the Catholic bishops for making this an issue--your religion has so much more to offer, and you focus on issues that will render your whole organization anti-human, (even more) hypocritical, and irrelevant.
I will end with Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, and Saturday Night Live on this issue. It is fitting that comedians comment on something that is such a joke.
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| The Vagina Ideologues | ||||
| ||||
| The Colbert Report | Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c | |||
| Contraception Crusade | ||||
| ||||
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Bad Religion, Bad Science
For whatever reason, the “religion vs. science” debate has been the center of attention lately, in social media and in general media. The most recent example was a piece in the Guardian about Richard Dawkins on a radio show, making broad generalizations about how many “Christians” are secular (and therefore in his opinion not “Christian”), and how many couldn’t name the first book of the Bible. The host then said that surely Dawkins could give him the full title of Darwin’s “Origins of the Species”, and after saying “of course”, he couldn’t do it. In the estimation of the writer, this was a stab at the arrogance of Dawkins.
I have always found Dawkins to be arrogant, and his tone makes it hard for me to take his arguments, which may or may not have some legitimacy, very seriously. Still, the Rabbi writing the column mixes up “secularism” and “atheism” in the same way that Dawkins does, ironically enough. One need not be an atheist to be a secularist. Secularism prefers no viewpoint on religion, rather than “no religion”. By preferring no viewpoint, you should (ideally) allow people in society to espouse whatever belief they choose, with special preference for none.
This is all introduction to the point I want to make in this post—“religious” believers of all stripes have more in common with “atheists” and others who might fall into a rational, skeptical, and/or scientific worldview than they realize.
First, like a good scholar and social scientist, I think it’s important to define terminology; the consequences of not doing so can be demonstrated in the article mentioned above. The key definition we need here is for the term “religion”. As any student taking an intro course on the study of religion will know, this is not as easy to do as it first looks. When I am in Britain and tell people that I teach religion, they automatically assume that I am some sort of Christian theologian. My teaching has nothing to do with theology, but that is the first association. Certainly in terms of “atheist” vs. “believer in religion”, there is an assumption that a being is involved, generally described as a deity or “god” (capital and lowercase). Again, not true. There are religions that are, strictly speaking, “atheistic”. They don’t have a belief in a personal “God”. As Joseph Campbell said (and I will quote him often), “God is the ultimate human metaphor.”
No, religion is not (necessarily) about “God”. Atheists do not believe in any god or religious system, and yet by definition (of religion) they do have something in common with the religious, as I will explain.
“Religion” comes from “religere” the Latin word that means “to link back” or “to tie back”. One of the most universal symbols of mankind in some form or another is the circle, or mandala. You see it in all cultures, and it is metaphorical of some kind of unity. If you look at world myths about origins, many of them talk about a unity that is broken. In Genesis, Yahweh separates “the light from the dark”. There is further separation in the myth of Adam and Eve—they are metaphorically one with “God” in the Garden of Eden, then through the woman, they enter a world of suffering and difference (knowledge of “good and evil”). This again is a metaphor for life—we are born through woman (unless you’re a seahorse) into a world where we see difference and separation. “This” is distinct from “that”.
So—“religion” is about getting back to the “unified” state, hence its association with “union with God” and other such metaphors. Alan Watts had a wonderful phrase for it—“dismemberment and rememberment”. This is a very Eastern conception. In the West, the dominant Christian myth says that man is “sinful” and must be “redeemed” through Christ to have union with God (and God and man are of separate substances). In the East, everyone and everything is already “divine”—we have just forgotten, and the job of the guru or spiritual teacher is to “wake you up” and make you remember. Hence—“dismemberment and rememberment”. Obviously there are other religions and variations, but they all point to the notion that we are separate, and need to be One.
What does that mean? If you don’t believe in God in a literal or metaphorical sense, then it has more to do with what it takes to get along with everyone in our global society. The notion is that you view everyone “as a god” (again, metaphorically speaking), and you respect everyone equally. There should not be divisions based on race, nationality, religion, gender, or anything else. These are false divisions, “pseudospeciations” (to use Erikson’s term). So—for the atheist, it is also ultimately about harmony between peoples—they just don’t use religious mythology or metaphor to seek that harmony.
Religion and myth, according to Campbell, have 4 functions—to negotiate the unknown, to provide a cosmology, to provide a social structure, and to provide individual guidance. In a secular world (and not necessarily atheistic), science tends to provide these things rather than what we think of as “religion”. So, I have always seen religion and science as performing the same function—they provide us with tools for negotiating our world, and negotiating the unknown. Causation is not an absolute fact, but we are as reassured by it as the religious believer may be assured that his or her deity is looking after them. We look for “reasons” why things are the way they are. The difference is that science examines the visible world, and religion tackles the unseen world. It is difficult, if not impossible, to use the methods of science to prove anything about an “unseen” world. The closest we get to that is analytical psychology.
One of the big bones of contention for atheists is how many cruel things are done in the world in the name of religion, how many restrictive laws are put into place for something that is a matter of belief, and one not shared by society as a whole. This is certainly true, and you could point to many examples—the Inquisition, the Salem witch trials, terrorist acts of Islamic extremists, and that’s just for starters. There are even more mundane laws, like forbidding gay marriage, which has no compelling rationale in a secular society—it is a matter of codified religious dogma.
That said—there is also such a thing as bad science. Western Esoteric scholar Egil Asprem did a great blog posting recently on the subject of bad science. Results can be faked, studies can be biased, even at top universities. Can people be harmed by bad science? Absolutely. A good example is the flap over autism and vaccines. Even after it was proven that the study making that connection was faked—and that Andrew Wakefield had a financial motivation in putting out that study—many parents still steadfastly cling to the notion that vaccines may cause autism, and want to refuse to get their children vaccinated. The result? Diseases that had been wiped out by vaccinations are now making a comeback, and children are dying. All because of bad science.
Now, just because there is a lot of bad science doesn’t make science or its methods “bad” by default. Neither does the existence of “bad” religion make all religion “bad” by default. The thing that bad science and bad religion have in common is the negative side of human behavior. Religious authorities can be controlling and power-hungry (and therefore excessively dogmatic and officious), and so can non-religious authorities. Sometimes the problem is outright sloppiness or laziness, also a human trait that is not limited to one’s worldview. But it is the person or persons involved that are the problem, not the method.
My point is not to demonize religion or science and/or non-religion. Both have their place, and when used rightly, can balance each other out. In the second episode of the Power of Myth, Bill Moyers’s first question to Campbell is, “Why myth (or religion, my parentheses)? Why should I believe in any of it?” And Campbell’s response: “Well, my first inclination is to tell you go on, live your life, it’s a good life, and you don’t need this. You should never believe in anything because you feel you ought to, or it is believed to be a good thing. But I do think that with the proper introduction, you might find it grabs you.”
It might, or might not. The bottom line is that as human beings, the best parts of us are looking to live together harmoniously, to have mutual respect, and for everyone to have equal opportunity to fulfill their own potential—to be free and happy. We all are interesting in knowing, and in minimizing anxiety of the unknown, and our means of doing that will depend on our experiences. It doesn’t matter what worldview you espouse. Your preferred point of view will depend on your experience, and no one likes their personal worldview structure to be violated, no matter how well intended, hence the intensity of feeling on both sides. There will always be a tension and struggle between opposing viewpoints, and humans often behave in ways that are less than humane. But the ideal goal is still worth striving for in spite of the mythology you choose or don’t choose. And in the final analysis, for everything we know, there are a million things we don’t know or understand, and maybe never will. Whether you prefer a purely rational/material worldview or one that involves some type of “religious” view, the best thing is always an open mind.
I have always found Dawkins to be arrogant, and his tone makes it hard for me to take his arguments, which may or may not have some legitimacy, very seriously. Still, the Rabbi writing the column mixes up “secularism” and “atheism” in the same way that Dawkins does, ironically enough. One need not be an atheist to be a secularist. Secularism prefers no viewpoint on religion, rather than “no religion”. By preferring no viewpoint, you should (ideally) allow people in society to espouse whatever belief they choose, with special preference for none.
This is all introduction to the point I want to make in this post—“religious” believers of all stripes have more in common with “atheists” and others who might fall into a rational, skeptical, and/or scientific worldview than they realize.
First, like a good scholar and social scientist, I think it’s important to define terminology; the consequences of not doing so can be demonstrated in the article mentioned above. The key definition we need here is for the term “religion”. As any student taking an intro course on the study of religion will know, this is not as easy to do as it first looks. When I am in Britain and tell people that I teach religion, they automatically assume that I am some sort of Christian theologian. My teaching has nothing to do with theology, but that is the first association. Certainly in terms of “atheist” vs. “believer in religion”, there is an assumption that a being is involved, generally described as a deity or “god” (capital and lowercase). Again, not true. There are religions that are, strictly speaking, “atheistic”. They don’t have a belief in a personal “God”. As Joseph Campbell said (and I will quote him often), “God is the ultimate human metaphor.”
No, religion is not (necessarily) about “God”. Atheists do not believe in any god or religious system, and yet by definition (of religion) they do have something in common with the religious, as I will explain.
“Religion” comes from “religere” the Latin word that means “to link back” or “to tie back”. One of the most universal symbols of mankind in some form or another is the circle, or mandala. You see it in all cultures, and it is metaphorical of some kind of unity. If you look at world myths about origins, many of them talk about a unity that is broken. In Genesis, Yahweh separates “the light from the dark”. There is further separation in the myth of Adam and Eve—they are metaphorically one with “God” in the Garden of Eden, then through the woman, they enter a world of suffering and difference (knowledge of “good and evil”). This again is a metaphor for life—we are born through woman (unless you’re a seahorse) into a world where we see difference and separation. “This” is distinct from “that”.
So—“religion” is about getting back to the “unified” state, hence its association with “union with God” and other such metaphors. Alan Watts had a wonderful phrase for it—“dismemberment and rememberment”. This is a very Eastern conception. In the West, the dominant Christian myth says that man is “sinful” and must be “redeemed” through Christ to have union with God (and God and man are of separate substances). In the East, everyone and everything is already “divine”—we have just forgotten, and the job of the guru or spiritual teacher is to “wake you up” and make you remember. Hence—“dismemberment and rememberment”. Obviously there are other religions and variations, but they all point to the notion that we are separate, and need to be One.
What does that mean? If you don’t believe in God in a literal or metaphorical sense, then it has more to do with what it takes to get along with everyone in our global society. The notion is that you view everyone “as a god” (again, metaphorically speaking), and you respect everyone equally. There should not be divisions based on race, nationality, religion, gender, or anything else. These are false divisions, “pseudospeciations” (to use Erikson’s term). So—for the atheist, it is also ultimately about harmony between peoples—they just don’t use religious mythology or metaphor to seek that harmony.
Religion and myth, according to Campbell, have 4 functions—to negotiate the unknown, to provide a cosmology, to provide a social structure, and to provide individual guidance. In a secular world (and not necessarily atheistic), science tends to provide these things rather than what we think of as “religion”. So, I have always seen religion and science as performing the same function—they provide us with tools for negotiating our world, and negotiating the unknown. Causation is not an absolute fact, but we are as reassured by it as the religious believer may be assured that his or her deity is looking after them. We look for “reasons” why things are the way they are. The difference is that science examines the visible world, and religion tackles the unseen world. It is difficult, if not impossible, to use the methods of science to prove anything about an “unseen” world. The closest we get to that is analytical psychology.
One of the big bones of contention for atheists is how many cruel things are done in the world in the name of religion, how many restrictive laws are put into place for something that is a matter of belief, and one not shared by society as a whole. This is certainly true, and you could point to many examples—the Inquisition, the Salem witch trials, terrorist acts of Islamic extremists, and that’s just for starters. There are even more mundane laws, like forbidding gay marriage, which has no compelling rationale in a secular society—it is a matter of codified religious dogma.
That said—there is also such a thing as bad science. Western Esoteric scholar Egil Asprem did a great blog posting recently on the subject of bad science. Results can be faked, studies can be biased, even at top universities. Can people be harmed by bad science? Absolutely. A good example is the flap over autism and vaccines. Even after it was proven that the study making that connection was faked—and that Andrew Wakefield had a financial motivation in putting out that study—many parents still steadfastly cling to the notion that vaccines may cause autism, and want to refuse to get their children vaccinated. The result? Diseases that had been wiped out by vaccinations are now making a comeback, and children are dying. All because of bad science.
Now, just because there is a lot of bad science doesn’t make science or its methods “bad” by default. Neither does the existence of “bad” religion make all religion “bad” by default. The thing that bad science and bad religion have in common is the negative side of human behavior. Religious authorities can be controlling and power-hungry (and therefore excessively dogmatic and officious), and so can non-religious authorities. Sometimes the problem is outright sloppiness or laziness, also a human trait that is not limited to one’s worldview. But it is the person or persons involved that are the problem, not the method.
My point is not to demonize religion or science and/or non-religion. Both have their place, and when used rightly, can balance each other out. In the second episode of the Power of Myth, Bill Moyers’s first question to Campbell is, “Why myth (or religion, my parentheses)? Why should I believe in any of it?” And Campbell’s response: “Well, my first inclination is to tell you go on, live your life, it’s a good life, and you don’t need this. You should never believe in anything because you feel you ought to, or it is believed to be a good thing. But I do think that with the proper introduction, you might find it grabs you.”
It might, or might not. The bottom line is that as human beings, the best parts of us are looking to live together harmoniously, to have mutual respect, and for everyone to have equal opportunity to fulfill their own potential—to be free and happy. We all are interesting in knowing, and in minimizing anxiety of the unknown, and our means of doing that will depend on our experiences. It doesn’t matter what worldview you espouse. Your preferred point of view will depend on your experience, and no one likes their personal worldview structure to be violated, no matter how well intended, hence the intensity of feeling on both sides. There will always be a tension and struggle between opposing viewpoints, and humans often behave in ways that are less than humane. But the ideal goal is still worth striving for in spite of the mythology you choose or don’t choose. And in the final analysis, for everything we know, there are a million things we don’t know or understand, and maybe never will. Whether you prefer a purely rational/material worldview or one that involves some type of “religious” view, the best thing is always an open mind.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Possibility and Outcome
I read somewhere recently, probably in a tweet, that "those people who think anything is possible are delusional." I found the remark to be quite offensive, but after giving it some thought, decided that it once again is a matter of balancing extreme views. (That also tends to be the remark of someone whose dreams have ended up in failure, and therefore turn a cynical eye towards anyone who wants to pursue their own. A normal reaction perhaps, but overblown.)
As children, if we haven't been beaten down by the extremes of modern psychology and education, we have vivid imaginations. Imagination is one of those things that is marginally acceptable as a child, but not acceptable as an adult. We equate imagination with irrationality, and when we grow up we are expected to have full functioning frontal lobes and be practical, reasonable, and logical. Yet, without imagination, we don't make progress as a society, technologically or scientifically. Great discoveries can be made through dreams, or just metaphorical associations. As I've said before--rationality is terribly important in making good decisions. However, we tend to give it so much importance that we don't trust ourselves and our own instincts.
When it comes to possibilities, we limit ourselves to what we can do based on current information, and current practical factors. It is true that not all possibilities are open to us, but if we aren't open-minded, we may miss opportunities to get the very thing that we want. You may be "safe" by not taking those chances, but you'll never live your own life. It will undoubtedly be the life someone else decides you should have.
There is always a balance factor. As we grow up, the importance of things like college is stressed, so that you can get a good job. When I was young, my mother wanted me to go to secretarial school, and of course the assumption was that I'd get married and have children. Yes, my mother grew up in the 1940s and had that kind of mentality, but not entirely--she also stressed that one should have their own education and not be reliant on a spouse for their material needs. She had seen too much of that go wrong in her own family. Today, you hear a lot about "getting your money's worth", or ROI, for your college education. Given the kinds of jobs that are out there today--I have to wonder, how many people go to college and are happy sitting in a cubicle working 9 to 5 every day? Even if you make a lot of money (and most don't), I find it hard to believe that this is what people dream about, or aspire to be.
This is not to say that these jobs can't provide a measure of satisfaction, but often, one's satisfaction comes outside of work. You hear a lot about people waiting for the day when they can be "free of their job" and do what they want. But I find that most people really don't know what they want. Material wants only go so far, and other types of satisfaction on a deeper level may not even be a thought. I was talking with a co-worker the other day, who said she didn't care about any meaning in anything, she just wanted to be sure she was providing the best for her children. "Yes," I said, "but don't you also want a career that makes you feel fulfilled, and not just a job? Isn't that why you're getting an education?" She agreed that this was true. "So," I said to her, "your aspirations may not be what you consider 'deep', but they are about feeling fulfilled on more than just a superficial level. They don't have to be grandiose." Often, I find those bigger "dreams" involve making a difference in someone else's life.
Everyone has different needs and wants, and not everyone needs the same thing to reach their dreams. But recently, I have discovered something that I've read about and probably talked about many times, but never really understood until recently. Like the numinous experience of "everything is", it can't be understood at all until it's experienced. And that experience is the one of not caring about outcomes.
Since I've made some of the decisions mentioned in earlier blog posts this year, I've found that I am free of the desire to know how things are going to turn out. That was always a factor in decisions--I'd use both logic and intuition to try to figure out where I was going to end up. Now I no longer care where I end up. There is nothing depressing or despairing about this--it's just going from day to day, seeing what opportunities present themselves, and listening to my intuition to decide what to act on and what to avoid. It is remarkably liberating, and I've found a number of unexpected opportunities that have sprung from not being over-planned, or worried so much about the "why", or how this will help me "down the road." Some things work out, and some don't. There's no reason, and there doesn't have to be one.
A friend of mine recalled to me the Joseph Campbell "Power of Myth" series with Bill Moyers, and I decided to re-watch a couple of episodes. In one of them, Bill Moyers talks about the purpose of life. Campbell says there is no purpose--what we are looking for is an experience of being "alive". I would fully agree with that, and I would suggest that one gets there not by planning and trying, but by letting it happen, trusting that you will do the right thing, even if it seems "impractical".
Jung talks about the perfection of the psyche, and one of its attributes is that everything has an opposite. Heaven is within you, and so is Hell. Perfection requires both sides. Letting go and not striving so much for one or the other can actually lead you to a balance without even trying. A negative experience or sorrow does not have to mean I have to strive harder to be "good", or that I'm being "punished" (as we often unconsciously think in the West). It's just an experience like any other.
Back to my original thought--it is not "delusion" to believe that anything is possible, even knowing that not all opportunities are available. But the likelihood that you will end up in the best possible place for you is enhanced if you are open to all possibilities, and not attached to the outcome of any of them.
As children, if we haven't been beaten down by the extremes of modern psychology and education, we have vivid imaginations. Imagination is one of those things that is marginally acceptable as a child, but not acceptable as an adult. We equate imagination with irrationality, and when we grow up we are expected to have full functioning frontal lobes and be practical, reasonable, and logical. Yet, without imagination, we don't make progress as a society, technologically or scientifically. Great discoveries can be made through dreams, or just metaphorical associations. As I've said before--rationality is terribly important in making good decisions. However, we tend to give it so much importance that we don't trust ourselves and our own instincts.
When it comes to possibilities, we limit ourselves to what we can do based on current information, and current practical factors. It is true that not all possibilities are open to us, but if we aren't open-minded, we may miss opportunities to get the very thing that we want. You may be "safe" by not taking those chances, but you'll never live your own life. It will undoubtedly be the life someone else decides you should have.
There is always a balance factor. As we grow up, the importance of things like college is stressed, so that you can get a good job. When I was young, my mother wanted me to go to secretarial school, and of course the assumption was that I'd get married and have children. Yes, my mother grew up in the 1940s and had that kind of mentality, but not entirely--she also stressed that one should have their own education and not be reliant on a spouse for their material needs. She had seen too much of that go wrong in her own family. Today, you hear a lot about "getting your money's worth", or ROI, for your college education. Given the kinds of jobs that are out there today--I have to wonder, how many people go to college and are happy sitting in a cubicle working 9 to 5 every day? Even if you make a lot of money (and most don't), I find it hard to believe that this is what people dream about, or aspire to be.
This is not to say that these jobs can't provide a measure of satisfaction, but often, one's satisfaction comes outside of work. You hear a lot about people waiting for the day when they can be "free of their job" and do what they want. But I find that most people really don't know what they want. Material wants only go so far, and other types of satisfaction on a deeper level may not even be a thought. I was talking with a co-worker the other day, who said she didn't care about any meaning in anything, she just wanted to be sure she was providing the best for her children. "Yes," I said, "but don't you also want a career that makes you feel fulfilled, and not just a job? Isn't that why you're getting an education?" She agreed that this was true. "So," I said to her, "your aspirations may not be what you consider 'deep', but they are about feeling fulfilled on more than just a superficial level. They don't have to be grandiose." Often, I find those bigger "dreams" involve making a difference in someone else's life.
Everyone has different needs and wants, and not everyone needs the same thing to reach their dreams. But recently, I have discovered something that I've read about and probably talked about many times, but never really understood until recently. Like the numinous experience of "everything is", it can't be understood at all until it's experienced. And that experience is the one of not caring about outcomes.
Since I've made some of the decisions mentioned in earlier blog posts this year, I've found that I am free of the desire to know how things are going to turn out. That was always a factor in decisions--I'd use both logic and intuition to try to figure out where I was going to end up. Now I no longer care where I end up. There is nothing depressing or despairing about this--it's just going from day to day, seeing what opportunities present themselves, and listening to my intuition to decide what to act on and what to avoid. It is remarkably liberating, and I've found a number of unexpected opportunities that have sprung from not being over-planned, or worried so much about the "why", or how this will help me "down the road." Some things work out, and some don't. There's no reason, and there doesn't have to be one.
A friend of mine recalled to me the Joseph Campbell "Power of Myth" series with Bill Moyers, and I decided to re-watch a couple of episodes. In one of them, Bill Moyers talks about the purpose of life. Campbell says there is no purpose--what we are looking for is an experience of being "alive". I would fully agree with that, and I would suggest that one gets there not by planning and trying, but by letting it happen, trusting that you will do the right thing, even if it seems "impractical".
Jung talks about the perfection of the psyche, and one of its attributes is that everything has an opposite. Heaven is within you, and so is Hell. Perfection requires both sides. Letting go and not striving so much for one or the other can actually lead you to a balance without even trying. A negative experience or sorrow does not have to mean I have to strive harder to be "good", or that I'm being "punished" (as we often unconsciously think in the West). It's just an experience like any other.
Back to my original thought--it is not "delusion" to believe that anything is possible, even knowing that not all opportunities are available. But the likelihood that you will end up in the best possible place for you is enhanced if you are open to all possibilities, and not attached to the outcome of any of them.
Monday, February 06, 2012
Sigmund Freud and the Scratching Post
I woke up sometime in the night, maybe around midnight. The moon was full, and from the skylights there were two pillars of white light in my bedroom. The right pillar lit up a pair of slippers that my nephew gave me for Christmas. Each slipper has the head of Sigmund Freud on it, and collectively they are known as "Freudian Slippers". The left pillar lit up one of Shiva's scratching posts, strategically placed to keep him from scratching the bed, but hardly ever used. It crossed my mind that this was a scratching post with a mission--it was going to replace the large blue "tower" post that he has in my living room. I had saved the blue tower from my neighbor's garbage when I lived in Clinton--at the time, there really wasn't anything wrong with it, other than it being unattractive. Now it has been torn to shreds, and is an eyesore in the living room. Come Spring clean-up, it will go into the garbage where it now rightfully belongs, and this one will go downstairs to get some use.
Contemplating this scene and my thoughts, I looked at the layout of the room and decided that there must be something to this layout, as though the objects were strategically placed to collect moonlight, as Stonehenge is strategically laid out for the solstice. Then I decided I was full of crap, and that it was a bad idea to read Robert Anton Wilson before going to bed. Not that Wilson really has anything to do with it--he would have thought I was full of crap, too.
I always read before going to sleep. Regardless of what writing, reading, or research I've done during the day, I never read anything that makes me think too much before bedtime. While I might read Umberto Eco during the day, my nightstand will usually have a collection of Dave Barry articles, or a book of Peanuts comics. I broke with that tradition last night, and brought "Cosmic Trigger 2" to the nightstand. The book looks like a deceptively simple and straightforward read. And it is, which is what makes it so mind-blowing. Part 2 is actually the "reality" section of the book, where Wilson talks about his life. It still manages to be mind-blowing. Not that this is a bad thing, unless you want to get some sleep.
One of the things Wilson talks about, and that I've read about before, is "information doubling". I don't think he invented that idea, but he discusses it in a way that is different from what I've read before. As more and more new information pours into our civilization, the more quickly we have to "re-frame"--change our frame of reference. He talks about information doubling between the 1950s and 1960s, and imagines that information may double every nanosecond by the year 2012. (I wouldn't doubt he's right.) He notes that this leads to social breakdowns, sometimes revolutions. He's not pessimistic, though--he believes a lot of good can come out of the ensuing chaos.
Wilson also talks about "reality tunnels”, which has everything to do with our frames of reference. He mentions the "respectability" of ideas, and how a Caucasian culture of fixed ideas makes it difficult for us to re-frame. When we learn to accept that there are many "realities", not just one, we can stop fighting over who has the "right" reality. (Carlos Castaneda was getting at the same idea in his books.) To sum up in Wilson's own words:
Learning a new art or science requires what psychologists call "reframing". Abandoning a fallacious dogma and accepting new facts requires "reframing". The cure of any neuroses or compulsion requires "reframing". To grow means to reframe, or to change reality tunnels. But we cannot do this if we have a conditioned attachment to conditioned perceptions and conditioned frames or glosses. We all want "liberation" but we rarely notice how conditioned reflexes make us our own jailers.
In our modern information explosion, reframing is even more difficult than ever. The rise in religious fundamentalism and scientism is not surprising, as people are desperately clinging to some illusory rock to avoid drowning, whether they think their scripture will save us or hardcore materialism. But one can only avoid drowning by not getting caught in the undertow. Which is why I think meditation is so important. The purpose of meditation is to bring you back to your own center, where it is quiet, and you can hear your own inner guidance.
I read another piece from Jung's commentary on the Secret of the Golden Flower, where he strongly advises against Westerners getting involved in what he calls "Chinese yoga". I have written in previous blog posts about the dangers of jumping into certain forms of yoga without a proper teacher. Joseph Campbell has made similar remarks to Jung--we are Westerners, we do not have the frame of reference of the Easterner. However, neither Jung nor Campbell lived in a society as globalized as it is today. Campbell was certainly around for television and the first computers, but never experienced anything like the Internet. Marshall Mcluhan has noted that television turned us into a global community--we were no longer so isolated from everyone else. The Internet has removed many more barriers, though it has also created some new ones--while we can talk to someone on the other side of the world, we have stopped communicating with those closest to us--they send us a "text" or comment on our Facebook status, and no longer speak to us on the phone or face-to-face. It is an interesting situation, and I wonder what Jung and Campbell would have made of it.
At any rate--Campbell has also commented in his lectures about the functions of mythology. The problem is that the cosmology of Western religion does not square with modern discoveries. Most mainstream churches have accepted that their cosmology is a mythical allegory and have accepted the new one. But many more have not, as evidenced by the push to teach creationism in schools. The Eastern cosmology fits in quite nicely with the modern worldview, and hence it is more suited to this global world. People who do not wish to abandon spirituality entirely, and yet can’t find meaning in the Western traditional ideas are often interested in that “third alternative” of the Eastern world view. Their practices may not be entirely Eastern, but they become something else that doesn’t have to be an empty cant of ego aggrandizement. In short, the firm lines between East and West are blurrier in a globalized culture, and that doesn’t have to be bad.
Contemplating this scene and my thoughts, I looked at the layout of the room and decided that there must be something to this layout, as though the objects were strategically placed to collect moonlight, as Stonehenge is strategically laid out for the solstice. Then I decided I was full of crap, and that it was a bad idea to read Robert Anton Wilson before going to bed. Not that Wilson really has anything to do with it--he would have thought I was full of crap, too.
I always read before going to sleep. Regardless of what writing, reading, or research I've done during the day, I never read anything that makes me think too much before bedtime. While I might read Umberto Eco during the day, my nightstand will usually have a collection of Dave Barry articles, or a book of Peanuts comics. I broke with that tradition last night, and brought "Cosmic Trigger 2" to the nightstand. The book looks like a deceptively simple and straightforward read. And it is, which is what makes it so mind-blowing. Part 2 is actually the "reality" section of the book, where Wilson talks about his life. It still manages to be mind-blowing. Not that this is a bad thing, unless you want to get some sleep.
One of the things Wilson talks about, and that I've read about before, is "information doubling". I don't think he invented that idea, but he discusses it in a way that is different from what I've read before. As more and more new information pours into our civilization, the more quickly we have to "re-frame"--change our frame of reference. He talks about information doubling between the 1950s and 1960s, and imagines that information may double every nanosecond by the year 2012. (I wouldn't doubt he's right.) He notes that this leads to social breakdowns, sometimes revolutions. He's not pessimistic, though--he believes a lot of good can come out of the ensuing chaos.
Wilson also talks about "reality tunnels”, which has everything to do with our frames of reference. He mentions the "respectability" of ideas, and how a Caucasian culture of fixed ideas makes it difficult for us to re-frame. When we learn to accept that there are many "realities", not just one, we can stop fighting over who has the "right" reality. (Carlos Castaneda was getting at the same idea in his books.) To sum up in Wilson's own words:
Learning a new art or science requires what psychologists call "reframing". Abandoning a fallacious dogma and accepting new facts requires "reframing". The cure of any neuroses or compulsion requires "reframing". To grow means to reframe, or to change reality tunnels. But we cannot do this if we have a conditioned attachment to conditioned perceptions and conditioned frames or glosses. We all want "liberation" but we rarely notice how conditioned reflexes make us our own jailers.
In our modern information explosion, reframing is even more difficult than ever. The rise in religious fundamentalism and scientism is not surprising, as people are desperately clinging to some illusory rock to avoid drowning, whether they think their scripture will save us or hardcore materialism. But one can only avoid drowning by not getting caught in the undertow. Which is why I think meditation is so important. The purpose of meditation is to bring you back to your own center, where it is quiet, and you can hear your own inner guidance.
I read another piece from Jung's commentary on the Secret of the Golden Flower, where he strongly advises against Westerners getting involved in what he calls "Chinese yoga". I have written in previous blog posts about the dangers of jumping into certain forms of yoga without a proper teacher. Joseph Campbell has made similar remarks to Jung--we are Westerners, we do not have the frame of reference of the Easterner. However, neither Jung nor Campbell lived in a society as globalized as it is today. Campbell was certainly around for television and the first computers, but never experienced anything like the Internet. Marshall Mcluhan has noted that television turned us into a global community--we were no longer so isolated from everyone else. The Internet has removed many more barriers, though it has also created some new ones--while we can talk to someone on the other side of the world, we have stopped communicating with those closest to us--they send us a "text" or comment on our Facebook status, and no longer speak to us on the phone or face-to-face. It is an interesting situation, and I wonder what Jung and Campbell would have made of it.
At any rate--Campbell has also commented in his lectures about the functions of mythology. The problem is that the cosmology of Western religion does not square with modern discoveries. Most mainstream churches have accepted that their cosmology is a mythical allegory and have accepted the new one. But many more have not, as evidenced by the push to teach creationism in schools. The Eastern cosmology fits in quite nicely with the modern worldview, and hence it is more suited to this global world. People who do not wish to abandon spirituality entirely, and yet can’t find meaning in the Western traditional ideas are often interested in that “third alternative” of the Eastern world view. Their practices may not be entirely Eastern, but they become something else that doesn’t have to be an empty cant of ego aggrandizement. In short, the firm lines between East and West are blurrier in a globalized culture, and that doesn’t have to be bad.
Friday, February 03, 2012
Flow
I’ve written before about noticing patterns in life. While causality is not an absolute fact, observing your own patterns can be helpful. I have made a lot of big decisions this month, and also taken some risks. Regardless of what it’s about—love, money, anything else—I notice a repeated reaction to situations. If it’s a situation I’m very attached to, I’m also very interested in controlling the outcome. I have to have a plan, I have to know how it’s going to work out, and I need to know RIGHT NOW. If any kind of crisis arises, or any need to look at the future, I speculate wildly in both directions—positive and negative. And I end up feeling drained and frustrated, because I don’t “know” the answer.
The fundamental lesson here for me (and maybe for you, if you’re like this) is one of trust. I think about what Alan Watts said about growing up in society:
“Instead of being quite direct with our children, we say ‘You are here on probation, and you must understand that. Maybe when you grow up a bit you will be acceptable, but until then you should be seen and not heard. You are a mess and you have to be educated and schooled until you are human.’ These attitudes which are inculcated into us from infancy go on into old age, because the way you start out is liable to be the way you finish.” (The Tao of Philosophy, 13)
In short, there is the attitude that we cannot trust ourselves, we have to be educated and let our education system tell us how best to second-guess ourselves. I’m not suggesting that education isn’t important; heck, I sometimes think I can’t get enough of it. But we put too much emphasis on logic, facts, figures, statistics, and never actually trust our feelings. There are situations when we should rely on those things, and they are important. But the power of our instinct shouldn’t be discounted. There needs to be a balance.
Tied to the lack of trust in ourselves is the need for perfection. If we make a mistake, we beat ourselves up for it. We don’t want to take risks because we “might make a mistake”. As Jung once said, “the soul demands your folly, not your wisdom.” If you don't make mistakes you aren't living. Only machines don't make make mistakes. (Well, some do, but that usually involves a human error somewhere along the line.)
So, I am trying to learn to deal with the “flow”. The expression “go with the flow” is quite clichéd, but it’s very simple advice that we often don’t take. It involves being in the moment and not worrying about how it will come out. It means not getting annoyed when plans don’t work out. And, it means not getting upset if you’re momentary decisions don’t turn out to be the right ones. In a world that stresses “minimizing risks”, this is likely seen as immature or irresponsible. But I find that if I learn to listen to myself, I don’t make the wrong decision, even if it seems like a crazy thing to do at the time.
Life is rarely a smooth ride, and things are more likely to happen through unexpected encounters, conversations, and opportunities. And because they are unexpected, you can’t plan for them. If you worry about the unexpected rather than embracing it, you spend your whole life not living your life, because of “what might happen tomorrow.”
So, in spite of some questionable circumstances, I have gone along with my feelings and decided to be celebratory rather than living under the mantle of austerity. I’ve planned a trip to New Orleans, just because. The idea came into my head for no reason, and it felt like the right thing to do, so I did it. Similarly, I have changed my course a lot lately, planning to do one thing, but changing direction at the last minute to head down a different road instead (sometimes literally). I know I’ve made the right decisions, because they feel like right decisions. I always think, wow, if I trusted myself and trusted in the process of life, I'd make right decisions all the time.
I have a good friend who was recently having some difficulties (now sorted out, thankfully). I remember her saying to me, “You know, I should be worried right now, but I’m not. I just feel like it will all work out, even if I don’t know how.” By contrast, I was tearing my hair out about my “plans”. Joseph Campbell once said that if your life is going according to plan, it’s probably someone else’s life. Life is what happens when you drop your plans.
I still have my long-term interests and goals. But how I get there is not so important now. What matters is what is right, right now. I can’t say precisely how I feel about a lot of things, and that is how it should be, as far as I’m concerned. I wake up chock full of thoughts in my head, and as I drive to work and watch the sun rise, I realize how nice it is to be doing that on a beautiful country road. I do not worry about traffic, I don’t worry about exactly what time I will get to work. I forget about time. In the end, I get there just when I'm supposed to.
I enjoy the flow, and hope that I don’t sabotage my sense of going with it.
The fundamental lesson here for me (and maybe for you, if you’re like this) is one of trust. I think about what Alan Watts said about growing up in society:
“Instead of being quite direct with our children, we say ‘You are here on probation, and you must understand that. Maybe when you grow up a bit you will be acceptable, but until then you should be seen and not heard. You are a mess and you have to be educated and schooled until you are human.’ These attitudes which are inculcated into us from infancy go on into old age, because the way you start out is liable to be the way you finish.” (The Tao of Philosophy, 13)
In short, there is the attitude that we cannot trust ourselves, we have to be educated and let our education system tell us how best to second-guess ourselves. I’m not suggesting that education isn’t important; heck, I sometimes think I can’t get enough of it. But we put too much emphasis on logic, facts, figures, statistics, and never actually trust our feelings. There are situations when we should rely on those things, and they are important. But the power of our instinct shouldn’t be discounted. There needs to be a balance.
Tied to the lack of trust in ourselves is the need for perfection. If we make a mistake, we beat ourselves up for it. We don’t want to take risks because we “might make a mistake”. As Jung once said, “the soul demands your folly, not your wisdom.” If you don't make mistakes you aren't living. Only machines don't make make mistakes. (Well, some do, but that usually involves a human error somewhere along the line.)
So, I am trying to learn to deal with the “flow”. The expression “go with the flow” is quite clichéd, but it’s very simple advice that we often don’t take. It involves being in the moment and not worrying about how it will come out. It means not getting annoyed when plans don’t work out. And, it means not getting upset if you’re momentary decisions don’t turn out to be the right ones. In a world that stresses “minimizing risks”, this is likely seen as immature or irresponsible. But I find that if I learn to listen to myself, I don’t make the wrong decision, even if it seems like a crazy thing to do at the time.
Life is rarely a smooth ride, and things are more likely to happen through unexpected encounters, conversations, and opportunities. And because they are unexpected, you can’t plan for them. If you worry about the unexpected rather than embracing it, you spend your whole life not living your life, because of “what might happen tomorrow.”
So, in spite of some questionable circumstances, I have gone along with my feelings and decided to be celebratory rather than living under the mantle of austerity. I’ve planned a trip to New Orleans, just because. The idea came into my head for no reason, and it felt like the right thing to do, so I did it. Similarly, I have changed my course a lot lately, planning to do one thing, but changing direction at the last minute to head down a different road instead (sometimes literally). I know I’ve made the right decisions, because they feel like right decisions. I always think, wow, if I trusted myself and trusted in the process of life, I'd make right decisions all the time.
I have a good friend who was recently having some difficulties (now sorted out, thankfully). I remember her saying to me, “You know, I should be worried right now, but I’m not. I just feel like it will all work out, even if I don’t know how.” By contrast, I was tearing my hair out about my “plans”. Joseph Campbell once said that if your life is going according to plan, it’s probably someone else’s life. Life is what happens when you drop your plans.
I still have my long-term interests and goals. But how I get there is not so important now. What matters is what is right, right now. I can’t say precisely how I feel about a lot of things, and that is how it should be, as far as I’m concerned. I wake up chock full of thoughts in my head, and as I drive to work and watch the sun rise, I realize how nice it is to be doing that on a beautiful country road. I do not worry about traffic, I don’t worry about exactly what time I will get to work. I forget about time. In the end, I get there just when I'm supposed to.
I enjoy the flow, and hope that I don’t sabotage my sense of going with it.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Breakthroughs
Sometimes life just goes along, ho-hum, and then one day you have a revelation.
This is not some divine revelation. Well, maybe it is. It depends on how you define "divine". The job of the guru is to get you to "wake up" from your sleep, to realize the truth instead of wallowing in delusion. If that is "divine", then I suppose this is a divine revelation.
I don't know what brings about such sudden changes. I might point to a number of factors. One would be meditation, certainly. I have been faithful to my meditation schedule for more than a month; this usually puts me more in touch with what is often know as one's "inner voice". The Inner Voice was making me quite uneasy these days. I had a Plan. I knew exactly where I was going in the next five years. Then the voice started rumbling. Whining, in fact. The last time I really recall this happening was before my wedding to my now ex-husband. I wrote it off to transitional anxiety, jitters about "change". Boy was I wrong. Hence, I have learned not to disregard this "voice".
Calling it a voice is not exactly accurate, either. For many people, it sounds like you're crazy, like you're hearing people urging you to do things inside your head. The real "inner voice" has nothing to do with such nonsense, or with any psychosis. Having that "voice" is healthy. It's the sound of a healthy intuition. It's hard to describe, because it appears as a thought that won't go away. But it's not like someone whispering in your ear.
Another possible factor is the loss of one of my cats earlier this month. It occurs to me that I would not voluntarily give up the other ones, especially Shiva. And taking them with me would not be feasible.
In any case--I have completely tossed all of my five year plans, and have developed new ones. This has also involved stopping many things that have been ongoing for a number of years. Things that seemed mysteriously right, things that had promise. Whatever fruits may have grown from that labor, now it's time to stop. It's become a hindrance, and is leading me in the wrong direction.
Some of this involves cutting ties with certain people. This is painful, because at least one of those people I love dearly. But I know a one-sided thing when I see it. And even if there are many good and just reasons for it being one-sided, it no longer justifies the long-term effort. I am sad, because it is part of a pattern--a pattern of emotional bonding with someone already committed. Just once, I would like to see a true liaison of spirit, something that feels right and actually works. But it hasn't happened yet, and I'm thinking I should not hold out hope that it will.
Of course--if I'm wrong, the bottom line is--I'm done making the effort. It's left me broke and alone. If I'm wrong, the other party will have to make the effort. Worst case, I have deluded myself. Best case--it's still not attainable unless the other person makes an effort. I will assume that they don't want to make the effort, or can't. Therefore, I will bow out, with the words, "you know where to find me if you want to keep in touch, or make the effort."
I reiterate it because I really don't want to do it. But at this point, I know it's the right thing to do. I'm not angry, because I was never promised anything. Well, just one thing, and that was never fulfilled. No matter. The person in question could easily say, "I never asked for this." And they would be right. Another reason to bow out. I am more frustrated than angry.
On the plus side, I have also become realistic about the fact that England is not the place to work on my doctorate. The academic culture there is materialistic, and I am more "universalist", more comparative in my approach. I have been very politely told that I would have a hard time finding anyone who espouses that point of view among scholars there. So, I am looking into becoming a Jungian analyst instead. While I enjoy teaching, and have no need to give it up, I also think it would be good to work with people one on one, help them through their journey, as well as formally take my own. It takes a long time and a lot of funds to become a Jungian therapist. But--it still beats giving up my house and everything I have here for something incredibly uncertain and perhaps not even the right thing. With the state of the world economy, it's even more daunting.
There is still much unfinished business. Loads of debt to pay off, prerequisites to be met before I can enter the Jung Institute, and writing that needs to be finished. That has been my focus, which is why you have not heard from me all month. I have been restless with a mixture of elation and sadness. But the sadness will go away, like it always does.
In the meantime, and in a less serious frame--I discovered two wonderful places in New York, both from a Yahoo article (if you can imagine). One is the City Bakery, which has to-die-for hot chocolate, made from melted chocolate bars. (If you have a Whole Foods near you, they apparently sell the hot chocolate mix). Starting next week, they will be having their hot chocolate festival, and there is no way I'm not attending. Not if they're serving it with their homemade marshmallows.
The other place is called the Brandy Library. I did a post about 4 years ago called "Quiet Spaces". This place sounds like the atmosphere I'm looking for. Conversation rather than yelling. Music is soft jazz, furniture is earthy like a wealthy person's library. Dress code is casual, but anyone dressed "trashy" is turned away. And--it's small, so it's not overcrowded and stifling. The menu looks spectacular, and I can't imagine anything more wonderful than sitting at one of their tables enjoying an armagnac after dinner. Of course, it's not cheap, so I have to wait til I have some money.
I also notice that in March, the IFC in the Village is playing two Jodorowsky films. I have all of Jodorowsky's films on DVD, but it would be excellent to see them on the big screen. For those of you with an interest in esoterica who live in or near New York City, these are not to be missed if you haven't seen them.
And now, back to finishing my paper. If I can focus.
This is not some divine revelation. Well, maybe it is. It depends on how you define "divine". The job of the guru is to get you to "wake up" from your sleep, to realize the truth instead of wallowing in delusion. If that is "divine", then I suppose this is a divine revelation.
I don't know what brings about such sudden changes. I might point to a number of factors. One would be meditation, certainly. I have been faithful to my meditation schedule for more than a month; this usually puts me more in touch with what is often know as one's "inner voice". The Inner Voice was making me quite uneasy these days. I had a Plan. I knew exactly where I was going in the next five years. Then the voice started rumbling. Whining, in fact. The last time I really recall this happening was before my wedding to my now ex-husband. I wrote it off to transitional anxiety, jitters about "change". Boy was I wrong. Hence, I have learned not to disregard this "voice".
Calling it a voice is not exactly accurate, either. For many people, it sounds like you're crazy, like you're hearing people urging you to do things inside your head. The real "inner voice" has nothing to do with such nonsense, or with any psychosis. Having that "voice" is healthy. It's the sound of a healthy intuition. It's hard to describe, because it appears as a thought that won't go away. But it's not like someone whispering in your ear.
Another possible factor is the loss of one of my cats earlier this month. It occurs to me that I would not voluntarily give up the other ones, especially Shiva. And taking them with me would not be feasible.
In any case--I have completely tossed all of my five year plans, and have developed new ones. This has also involved stopping many things that have been ongoing for a number of years. Things that seemed mysteriously right, things that had promise. Whatever fruits may have grown from that labor, now it's time to stop. It's become a hindrance, and is leading me in the wrong direction.
Some of this involves cutting ties with certain people. This is painful, because at least one of those people I love dearly. But I know a one-sided thing when I see it. And even if there are many good and just reasons for it being one-sided, it no longer justifies the long-term effort. I am sad, because it is part of a pattern--a pattern of emotional bonding with someone already committed. Just once, I would like to see a true liaison of spirit, something that feels right and actually works. But it hasn't happened yet, and I'm thinking I should not hold out hope that it will.
Of course--if I'm wrong, the bottom line is--I'm done making the effort. It's left me broke and alone. If I'm wrong, the other party will have to make the effort. Worst case, I have deluded myself. Best case--it's still not attainable unless the other person makes an effort. I will assume that they don't want to make the effort, or can't. Therefore, I will bow out, with the words, "you know where to find me if you want to keep in touch, or make the effort."
I reiterate it because I really don't want to do it. But at this point, I know it's the right thing to do. I'm not angry, because I was never promised anything. Well, just one thing, and that was never fulfilled. No matter. The person in question could easily say, "I never asked for this." And they would be right. Another reason to bow out. I am more frustrated than angry.
On the plus side, I have also become realistic about the fact that England is not the place to work on my doctorate. The academic culture there is materialistic, and I am more "universalist", more comparative in my approach. I have been very politely told that I would have a hard time finding anyone who espouses that point of view among scholars there. So, I am looking into becoming a Jungian analyst instead. While I enjoy teaching, and have no need to give it up, I also think it would be good to work with people one on one, help them through their journey, as well as formally take my own. It takes a long time and a lot of funds to become a Jungian therapist. But--it still beats giving up my house and everything I have here for something incredibly uncertain and perhaps not even the right thing. With the state of the world economy, it's even more daunting.
There is still much unfinished business. Loads of debt to pay off, prerequisites to be met before I can enter the Jung Institute, and writing that needs to be finished. That has been my focus, which is why you have not heard from me all month. I have been restless with a mixture of elation and sadness. But the sadness will go away, like it always does.
In the meantime, and in a less serious frame--I discovered two wonderful places in New York, both from a Yahoo article (if you can imagine). One is the City Bakery, which has to-die-for hot chocolate, made from melted chocolate bars. (If you have a Whole Foods near you, they apparently sell the hot chocolate mix). Starting next week, they will be having their hot chocolate festival, and there is no way I'm not attending. Not if they're serving it with their homemade marshmallows.
The other place is called the Brandy Library. I did a post about 4 years ago called "Quiet Spaces". This place sounds like the atmosphere I'm looking for. Conversation rather than yelling. Music is soft jazz, furniture is earthy like a wealthy person's library. Dress code is casual, but anyone dressed "trashy" is turned away. And--it's small, so it's not overcrowded and stifling. The menu looks spectacular, and I can't imagine anything more wonderful than sitting at one of their tables enjoying an armagnac after dinner. Of course, it's not cheap, so I have to wait til I have some money.
I also notice that in March, the IFC in the Village is playing two Jodorowsky films. I have all of Jodorowsky's films on DVD, but it would be excellent to see them on the big screen. For those of you with an interest in esoterica who live in or near New York City, these are not to be missed if you haven't seen them.
And now, back to finishing my paper. If I can focus.
Saturday, January 07, 2012
January Associations
It has been a snowless January so far, but the cemetery looks frosty. In spite of it being so close, I hardly ever walk there. The pleasure of viewing the artistic and unusual headstones is usually ruined by the end of the walk. On the way out the church driveway, there is a "memorial to the unborn", reminding me that a large social and religious institution values potential life more than mine. One could say a lot about large social institutions these days, religious and political, but it gets tiring after awhile.
Several people on the street still have lights and Christmas decorations up, and I wish they would take them down. I don't think any of them celebrate Epiphany, I think they just haven't gotten around to it. They can't use cold weather as an excuse--save one or two days this week, the weather has been most reasonable.
This week I said goodbye to my cat, Whiskers. What started out as a simple eye infection ended with a cat who couldn't eat and had fluid in her lungs. I suspect, as the specialist said, that "much more was going on with this cat besides the eye". I opted to put her down rather than try to spend thousands on tests and hospital stays. In the end, it was likely they'd tell me she had incurable cancer anyway, and it would have just extended the cat's suffering. I think I was more floored that it cost more to cremate a cat at the emergency vet than it does a human being. I've dropped $3,000 in the last 6 weeks on 3 cats--a catalytic converter (apologies for the pun), Shiva cat, and Whiskers cat. They say things happen in threes, so let that be the last for awhile. Please.
The start of this year has fluctuated between being an emotional void and being sad, and besides the kitty event, I couldn't put my finger on why. I realize now that it's because a lot of things that previously satisfied or interested me have fallen flat, and I haven't found anything to take their place yet. It's interesting to view the cycle of boredom, which leads to point that is between a "death" (or just loss, if you prefer) and wanting things to go back to the way they were before. The cycle has to finish with something brand new. But there is an insecurity about the middle place, like you're stepping off a cliff into empty air, and you want to know that you can reach solid ground again, but your foot hasn't hit it yet. Of course, most of the things we attach ourselves to are temporal or unrealistic anyway, and the result is inevitable, until we stop doing that. But the question becomes--what else is there to do?
A crow is sitting very close to my front porch, and cawing into my window. Crows remind me of the Morrigan, the complex Celtic goddess who has many characteristics of the triple Moon goddess. A friend of mine mentioned a new interest in studying her the other day. I had been working on a story about the Morrigan a couple of years ago, but that stopped for a number of reasons. Perhaps these are synchronicities telling me to pick up that thread yet again. I did so much work on it, it may not be a bad idea.
I had also read somewhere, to my surprise, that in some versions of the myth, the Morrigan is the mother of the goddess Brigid. It provides an interesting metaphorical connection. My friend said to me the other day, "You know, they say you don't choose the Morrigan, she chooses you." Perhaps that is so.
Whatever happens, my January plan is to have a quiet, rather austere month. I will be presenting at the Mid-Atlantic American Academy of Religion conference in March, so my first priority is finishing my paper for that event. I also have many unfinished things at home, reminding me of the old expression, "When a fisherman can't go to sea, he repairs his nets." For all the time I've spent tying up loose ends this past year, it's amazing how many still remain.
In retrospect, I noticed that things in my life happen on the "9"s. I entered puberty at age 9, which led to huge psychological and physical changes. I had my first breast tumor and something akin to my life crashing around me--and me starting over--at 19. At 29, I left my husband, and began a new life. Now, at 39, I feel like something big is going to change again (and I had another breast tumor), but I don't know what yet exactly. Clearly when old structures break down, new ones must take their place. Of course, associations with the number 9 have been forever ruined by the likes of Herman Cain. (Well, maybe not forever. This year, anyway).
At any rate, thank you for indulging my musings--I hope to have more focused and topical blog posts going forward. They say that when you can't write what you want, write anything, and this may be an exercise in that. Here's hoping 2012 will be a productive and interesting writing year.
Several people on the street still have lights and Christmas decorations up, and I wish they would take them down. I don't think any of them celebrate Epiphany, I think they just haven't gotten around to it. They can't use cold weather as an excuse--save one or two days this week, the weather has been most reasonable.
This week I said goodbye to my cat, Whiskers. What started out as a simple eye infection ended with a cat who couldn't eat and had fluid in her lungs. I suspect, as the specialist said, that "much more was going on with this cat besides the eye". I opted to put her down rather than try to spend thousands on tests and hospital stays. In the end, it was likely they'd tell me she had incurable cancer anyway, and it would have just extended the cat's suffering. I think I was more floored that it cost more to cremate a cat at the emergency vet than it does a human being. I've dropped $3,000 in the last 6 weeks on 3 cats--a catalytic converter (apologies for the pun), Shiva cat, and Whiskers cat. They say things happen in threes, so let that be the last for awhile. Please.
The start of this year has fluctuated between being an emotional void and being sad, and besides the kitty event, I couldn't put my finger on why. I realize now that it's because a lot of things that previously satisfied or interested me have fallen flat, and I haven't found anything to take their place yet. It's interesting to view the cycle of boredom, which leads to point that is between a "death" (or just loss, if you prefer) and wanting things to go back to the way they were before. The cycle has to finish with something brand new. But there is an insecurity about the middle place, like you're stepping off a cliff into empty air, and you want to know that you can reach solid ground again, but your foot hasn't hit it yet. Of course, most of the things we attach ourselves to are temporal or unrealistic anyway, and the result is inevitable, until we stop doing that. But the question becomes--what else is there to do?
A crow is sitting very close to my front porch, and cawing into my window. Crows remind me of the Morrigan, the complex Celtic goddess who has many characteristics of the triple Moon goddess. A friend of mine mentioned a new interest in studying her the other day. I had been working on a story about the Morrigan a couple of years ago, but that stopped for a number of reasons. Perhaps these are synchronicities telling me to pick up that thread yet again. I did so much work on it, it may not be a bad idea.
I had also read somewhere, to my surprise, that in some versions of the myth, the Morrigan is the mother of the goddess Brigid. It provides an interesting metaphorical connection. My friend said to me the other day, "You know, they say you don't choose the Morrigan, she chooses you." Perhaps that is so.
Whatever happens, my January plan is to have a quiet, rather austere month. I will be presenting at the Mid-Atlantic American Academy of Religion conference in March, so my first priority is finishing my paper for that event. I also have many unfinished things at home, reminding me of the old expression, "When a fisherman can't go to sea, he repairs his nets." For all the time I've spent tying up loose ends this past year, it's amazing how many still remain.
In retrospect, I noticed that things in my life happen on the "9"s. I entered puberty at age 9, which led to huge psychological and physical changes. I had my first breast tumor and something akin to my life crashing around me--and me starting over--at 19. At 29, I left my husband, and began a new life. Now, at 39, I feel like something big is going to change again (and I had another breast tumor), but I don't know what yet exactly. Clearly when old structures break down, new ones must take their place. Of course, associations with the number 9 have been forever ruined by the likes of Herman Cain. (Well, maybe not forever. This year, anyway).
At any rate, thank you for indulging my musings--I hope to have more focused and topical blog posts going forward. They say that when you can't write what you want, write anything, and this may be an exercise in that. Here's hoping 2012 will be a productive and interesting writing year.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Dissatisfaction, and, "The Man Who Collected Machen"
Today is New Year's Eve. NYE tends to be either very wintery, or reminiscent of Spring. It's more like the latter today, just like the first day of Winter was this year. After being in Spring-like Los Angeles for a few days, I have come home to a cat who is clearly dying, so that mixture of ending/beginning is still the theme. (The cat, by the way, is not Shiva--it is Whiskers, who seems to have some kind of eye tumor).
Regardless of this year's circumstances, I always find myself in an evaluative mode on New Year's Eve, even though the point in time is arbitrary in the larger scheme of things. This year, I find myself lamenting how much wasn't done and is unfinished, or done incorrectly, rather than looking at what I did complete this year. Part of the problem is that so much that I worked on mid-year is still pending, and there are no apparent solutions to some looming problems after many months. But I have also come to realize that I am not a patient person, and do not like it when I cannot control outcomes. Which, rationally speaking, is silly--no one really can control outcomes, not in a big way. But unconsciously, I get angry at myself for not being able to do so. I think they call that being a "perfectionist". I'm sure it's why I devote so much blog space to talking about letting go; I need to take my own advice.
I visited my sister in California, and at one point we had a conversation about dissatisfaction. There is a Tarot card, the 4 of Cups, that illustrates the issue. On the well-known Rider-Waite deck, the card features a young man sitting under a tree with his arms crossed, looking at 3 goblets out of his reach, and not seeing the invisible hand offering him his own full goblet right next to him. The card deals with boredom and dissatisfaction, and the message is that we often focus on what we don't have rather than what we have. Boredom is another variation of that; we cannot stand to be alone with ourselves, so we want distractions. Writing is my usual distraction, but lately I've either not had time or not been very inspired. So, I am besieged by the demons of What If, and the unknowns surrounding What Is. I forget that it's all a giant board game, and to be taken just as seriously.
My nephew gave me a wonderful book for Christmas--"The Man Who Collected Machen, which is a collection of short stories by Mark Samuels. I finished it this morning.
You can see the influences of writers like Poe and Lovecraft (and Machen) in Samuels's writing, but it's not about comparing him to those writers. He is very good at writing about the monsters of unconsciousness, horrors of knowledge and language, and a very Lovecraftian sense of the "horror of God". "A Contaminated Text" is one of my favorite stories, and reminds me of one of the last chapters of Carlos Castaneda's book "The Art of Dreaming", where he talks about insect-like beings that feed on us and drain us of our capacity for independent thought. This is metaphorical, of course, and Samuels is well aware of the reality of the metaphor, and identifies it. "The Age of Decayed Futurity" is so disturbingly like our modern society, you get a sense that there is a grain of truth to the conspiracy theory. He also describes that state he calls "that unique mental fever from which only writers suffer", which is well-known to those of us who write fiction. "Nor Unto Death Utterly by Edmund Bertrand" does a great job of smashing metaphorical concepts of God. God is, in this analysis, that wretched face of Death that we fear, and that we spend our whole lives trying to avoid.
The book is a timely acquisition, as it allows me to think more freely about my own work, and things I want to revise, but have gotten stuck. I highly recommend this book if you are a fan of horror or speculative fiction. It is not really horror of the more gruesome variety--it has more of a feel of the classic writers mentioned above, without being a caricature of those writers. I am always on the lookout for writers inspired by the classics, as a lot of contemporary horror leaves me cold.
So, with that, I will wish everyone a happy new year, and hope that 2012 does actually turn out to be a better year than expected. I am hoping that as a nation, we've reached our nadir, and that there's nowhere to go but up. Things go in cycles, so what is empty will fill up, and what has been full will empty. And so on.
Regardless of this year's circumstances, I always find myself in an evaluative mode on New Year's Eve, even though the point in time is arbitrary in the larger scheme of things. This year, I find myself lamenting how much wasn't done and is unfinished, or done incorrectly, rather than looking at what I did complete this year. Part of the problem is that so much that I worked on mid-year is still pending, and there are no apparent solutions to some looming problems after many months. But I have also come to realize that I am not a patient person, and do not like it when I cannot control outcomes. Which, rationally speaking, is silly--no one really can control outcomes, not in a big way. But unconsciously, I get angry at myself for not being able to do so. I think they call that being a "perfectionist". I'm sure it's why I devote so much blog space to talking about letting go; I need to take my own advice.
I visited my sister in California, and at one point we had a conversation about dissatisfaction. There is a Tarot card, the 4 of Cups, that illustrates the issue. On the well-known Rider-Waite deck, the card features a young man sitting under a tree with his arms crossed, looking at 3 goblets out of his reach, and not seeing the invisible hand offering him his own full goblet right next to him. The card deals with boredom and dissatisfaction, and the message is that we often focus on what we don't have rather than what we have. Boredom is another variation of that; we cannot stand to be alone with ourselves, so we want distractions. Writing is my usual distraction, but lately I've either not had time or not been very inspired. So, I am besieged by the demons of What If, and the unknowns surrounding What Is. I forget that it's all a giant board game, and to be taken just as seriously.
My nephew gave me a wonderful book for Christmas--"The Man Who Collected Machen, which is a collection of short stories by Mark Samuels. I finished it this morning.
You can see the influences of writers like Poe and Lovecraft (and Machen) in Samuels's writing, but it's not about comparing him to those writers. He is very good at writing about the monsters of unconsciousness, horrors of knowledge and language, and a very Lovecraftian sense of the "horror of God". "A Contaminated Text" is one of my favorite stories, and reminds me of one of the last chapters of Carlos Castaneda's book "The Art of Dreaming", where he talks about insect-like beings that feed on us and drain us of our capacity for independent thought. This is metaphorical, of course, and Samuels is well aware of the reality of the metaphor, and identifies it. "The Age of Decayed Futurity" is so disturbingly like our modern society, you get a sense that there is a grain of truth to the conspiracy theory. He also describes that state he calls "that unique mental fever from which only writers suffer", which is well-known to those of us who write fiction. "Nor Unto Death Utterly by Edmund Bertrand" does a great job of smashing metaphorical concepts of God. God is, in this analysis, that wretched face of Death that we fear, and that we spend our whole lives trying to avoid.
The book is a timely acquisition, as it allows me to think more freely about my own work, and things I want to revise, but have gotten stuck. I highly recommend this book if you are a fan of horror or speculative fiction. It is not really horror of the more gruesome variety--it has more of a feel of the classic writers mentioned above, without being a caricature of those writers. I am always on the lookout for writers inspired by the classics, as a lot of contemporary horror leaves me cold.
So, with that, I will wish everyone a happy new year, and hope that 2012 does actually turn out to be a better year than expected. I am hoping that as a nation, we've reached our nadir, and that there's nowhere to go but up. Things go in cycles, so what is empty will fill up, and what has been full will empty. And so on.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Solstice
I leave for work in the dark, but at this time of year, this is not unusual. The stars are still out as I get into my car on Solstice morning, and notice a single leaf on my windshield that is green. The Solstice officially "occurred" just after midnight; I heard thunder, as though Lugh was attacking the Cailleach with his thunderbolts instead of Balor. Indeed, the morning is so warm and wet, one would not think it was the first day of winter. However, all is fair in seasonal war--sometimes it snows on the Spring Equinox. Birth and death seem all mixed up.
The skyline over the valley looks like an impressionistic painting, with mottled clouds, charcoal, peach, and a watered-down blue. The silhouettes of the fields remind me of Lovecraft's "blasted heath" though perhaps not as sinister. As I make my way towards the town of Chester, I notice that police cars sit with their lights off, waiting for speeding motorists, which makes my own slow drive feel vindicated. For no good reason, I begin to associate the police with social religion, those who uphold the laws that keep people inside the fence and away from the Collective.
The clouds look stormy all day--rich sunlight and blue sky with large chunks of area covered by angry-looking blobs of gray and black. I took a walk at lunchtime on the solstice, and noticed some kind of waxy green vine growing all along the outer wall of Florham. I don't recall seeing this vine before, and it's puzzling. There's lots and lots of it, and it almost looks ominous against the barren trees.
Arthur Machen once wrote about evil, suggesting that it was a defiance of natural law. If a rose bush started to sing of its own accord, that would smack of evil. I don't know that some of these intrusions of Spring are so "evil", but for me at least they reflect an underlying disturbance. As though things are not quite what you think or what you expect. Perhaps they are more of the "trickster" than something evil. Interestingly--the image of Satan, which we associate with evil, was actually thought to be more of a trickster figure, before theology made him a symbol of everything anti-Christian. Tricksters are very necessary, because they remind us that our stories are just that--stories. They can be changed, and sometimes should be changed.
I am not sure how I feel about 2012. I do not believe in this idea of Mayan apocalypse--I don't even think the Mayans believe(d) in that. However, it is not looking good economically or politically. On the surface there appears to be little hope--in fact, it seems things will get monumentally worse. My only hope that this is a Trickster at work, that this is part of a natural upheaval, and we will settle down to something better that is not currently apparent. Sometimes the Unknown gives us good surprises.
I am reluctant to make any predictions for 2012. The last time I made predictions, it was for a good year, settling down and being more harmonious, and in fact everything fell apart and went to sh*t. I'm not anticipating a good year, and I'm hoping I'll be equally wrong about that, and that it turns out to be the best year ever.
Usually winter break is a time to pause, for me to sit back, watch the sunrises on my week off, do some writing, catch up on pleasure reading. Not so this time--it is Christmas Eve, I need to put in student grades, and preparing for a trip to visit my sister as of Monday morning. Naturally I have another sick cat, Whiskers, with a bloodied eye and an ear infection, so both my parents and my basement cats can be traumatized when I relocate them temporarily to my parents' basement. (Shiva cat gets to stay at home, as my neighbor can care for him). I am looking forward to the trip, but we will be busy, so it will not be a time for sitting around. And I will have much work to do when I get back...and for the entire year. No rest for the weary.
I don't know if it's because I've been crankier than usual this holiday season, but I dreamt last night that John Foxx adopted a ginger cat and named it Editorial. I posted this dream to Twitter and Facebook, and received some helpful analyses from many friends--the idea of Fox (masculine/Animus) adopting the Cat (feminine/Anima), both "red images" (foxes are red, ginger cats are red), and editorial, which my friend Rob pointed out would deal with opinions. Never mind that cats have a tendency to be independent anyway. Another friend mentioned Foxx as Animus figure, which makes sense in its own way--I see a lot of my own ideals about the best in men (wisdom of being older, respect, politeness, snarky sense of humor, creatively interesting, still being sexy though older) in Mr. Foxx. I mention "crankiness" because the symbolism is very fiery and "opinionated". Which, of course, I'm not, in the same way Pope Benedict is not a Catholic.
I hope to blog at least once more before the year is out. Happy holidays, and pleasant dreams.
The skyline over the valley looks like an impressionistic painting, with mottled clouds, charcoal, peach, and a watered-down blue. The silhouettes of the fields remind me of Lovecraft's "blasted heath" though perhaps not as sinister. As I make my way towards the town of Chester, I notice that police cars sit with their lights off, waiting for speeding motorists, which makes my own slow drive feel vindicated. For no good reason, I begin to associate the police with social religion, those who uphold the laws that keep people inside the fence and away from the Collective.
The clouds look stormy all day--rich sunlight and blue sky with large chunks of area covered by angry-looking blobs of gray and black. I took a walk at lunchtime on the solstice, and noticed some kind of waxy green vine growing all along the outer wall of Florham. I don't recall seeing this vine before, and it's puzzling. There's lots and lots of it, and it almost looks ominous against the barren trees.
Arthur Machen once wrote about evil, suggesting that it was a defiance of natural law. If a rose bush started to sing of its own accord, that would smack of evil. I don't know that some of these intrusions of Spring are so "evil", but for me at least they reflect an underlying disturbance. As though things are not quite what you think or what you expect. Perhaps they are more of the "trickster" than something evil. Interestingly--the image of Satan, which we associate with evil, was actually thought to be more of a trickster figure, before theology made him a symbol of everything anti-Christian. Tricksters are very necessary, because they remind us that our stories are just that--stories. They can be changed, and sometimes should be changed.
I am not sure how I feel about 2012. I do not believe in this idea of Mayan apocalypse--I don't even think the Mayans believe(d) in that. However, it is not looking good economically or politically. On the surface there appears to be little hope--in fact, it seems things will get monumentally worse. My only hope that this is a Trickster at work, that this is part of a natural upheaval, and we will settle down to something better that is not currently apparent. Sometimes the Unknown gives us good surprises.
I am reluctant to make any predictions for 2012. The last time I made predictions, it was for a good year, settling down and being more harmonious, and in fact everything fell apart and went to sh*t. I'm not anticipating a good year, and I'm hoping I'll be equally wrong about that, and that it turns out to be the best year ever.
Usually winter break is a time to pause, for me to sit back, watch the sunrises on my week off, do some writing, catch up on pleasure reading. Not so this time--it is Christmas Eve, I need to put in student grades, and preparing for a trip to visit my sister as of Monday morning. Naturally I have another sick cat, Whiskers, with a bloodied eye and an ear infection, so both my parents and my basement cats can be traumatized when I relocate them temporarily to my parents' basement. (Shiva cat gets to stay at home, as my neighbor can care for him). I am looking forward to the trip, but we will be busy, so it will not be a time for sitting around. And I will have much work to do when I get back...and for the entire year. No rest for the weary.
I don't know if it's because I've been crankier than usual this holiday season, but I dreamt last night that John Foxx adopted a ginger cat and named it Editorial. I posted this dream to Twitter and Facebook, and received some helpful analyses from many friends--the idea of Fox (masculine/Animus) adopting the Cat (feminine/Anima), both "red images" (foxes are red, ginger cats are red), and editorial, which my friend Rob pointed out would deal with opinions. Never mind that cats have a tendency to be independent anyway. Another friend mentioned Foxx as Animus figure, which makes sense in its own way--I see a lot of my own ideals about the best in men (wisdom of being older, respect, politeness, snarky sense of humor, creatively interesting, still being sexy though older) in Mr. Foxx. I mention "crankiness" because the symbolism is very fiery and "opinionated". Which, of course, I'm not, in the same way Pope Benedict is not a Catholic.
I hope to blog at least once more before the year is out. Happy holidays, and pleasant dreams.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Kala
As much as I complain about my cat waking me up at ungodly hours, I have to give him credit, because I would not have memorable (or lucid) dreams if he didn't do that. In those moments when I put him off the bed and roll over, many dreams occur. I woke up this morning with the phrase in my head, "Kala means time, and Kali devours it."
I did not invent this phrase. I recall that it was on the back of a card I once kept hanging from the rearview mirror of my car. The non-text side contained a photo of a Kali statue that I had never seen before--it was not a Dakineshwar or Kaligat Kali, nor was it the one in Amritapuri. Kali was a light blue color, not the usual black. The text on the reverse explained who Kali was, and that was the opening sentence.
The word "kala" has been kicking around my consciousness for several days. The other day, for no good reason, I was thinking about the name given to me by Mata Amritanandamayi, "Nischala", and how people always confuse it with "Niskala". "Nis" is the Sanskrit root for "Not". "Chala" means "motion"; "Kala" means "time". "Nischala" means "without motion", or more to the point, "stillness", and is one of Kali's one-thousand names. "Niskala" means "without time". Not merely "timeless" but "beyond time". This is a name of Lalita Devi as well as Kali, and Lalita Devi is the creator of the universe--the universe that Kali devours. (And of course, they are actually the same deity in some regard, as all Hindu deities are one). "Lalita", incidentally, is a version of the Sanskrit word for "play". So, Lalita Devi is the "Goddess who Plays". The creator of the universe is playing a game, and you're in it. If you give that some serious thought, it's quite profound.
I recently subscribed to Umberto Eco's Twitter feed. I don't know if Eco writes it, or if someone posts for him, as the posts are in English. Eco can speak English, but only writes in Italian, so I tend to think it's the latter. Eco of course specializes in semiotics, which is the study of signs and sign processes. Semantics is a branch of semiotics that deals with the meaning of signs, and deals mostly with language. One of his recent tweets said, "Semiotics has become a sort of moral critical duty when it was clear that mass media were the new sacred texts." Deconstructing language and its meanings is important. There is a tendency in our culture to accept what we hear at face value, and not to think about what it really means. A great example of this was brought up in another Twitter feed I follow, @Numinousviews. Yesterday, he posted "The question shouldn't simply be does one believe in God or not. One should first ask what does one understand the word God to mean?" I've been reading a lot of 100 level papers about the debate between religion and science. Many students are using the available material well, but they continue to debate about the same old tired, "Can science prove there is a God or not? Can science prove the Bible stories are true or not?" and using that as a benchmark of "truth". I'm not blaming them for that, as this is the first time they've been asked to look at the question, and for many, this is not a major subject of interest. But the real question is "What do you mean by the word God?" All language is symbolic; it stands for our interpretation of the world. "God" is a metaphor for what we don't understand. Religion is a tool for negotiating what we don't understand. Science is also such a tool, but it deals with the observed outer world. Religion deals with the "numinous", as does psychology, at least in the Jungian sense. It deals with the "psyche", or world of the mind.
Returning to the original "Kala", when I think of both Kali and Lalita, I think of the Srichakra (or Sriyantra), which is a symbol of Sri Lalita. It contains 9 interlocking triangles, 4 pointing up (representing Shiva--the god, not my cat), and 5 pointing down (representing Shakti--Kali is the most "extreme" form of Shakti, which is a metaphor for the energy of consciousness). So, it is the Union of everything in the Universe. There is a prayer that is used by adherents of Sri Vidya called the "Sri Devi Khadgamala Stotra". It looks at the 9 triangles of the Srichakra as 9 "circles" or "chakra swamini", and represent deeper and deeper levels of awareness in the universe. Each level contains the names of deities, with the outer circles referring to desires (karshini) and worldly powers (siddhe), and the inner circles representing the dissolution of any kind of form. The innermost triangle, associated with Mahatripurasundari,(i.e., Lalita, great goddess of the 3 worlds--ours, the heavens, and the hells) is in a circle characterized as "para para rahasya yogini", which in a clumsy literal sense means "prior, prior to form (or that capable of being affected by disease)". Because, when one gets to the core of consciousness, there is no form, no motion, and no time. No-thing.
I did not invent this phrase. I recall that it was on the back of a card I once kept hanging from the rearview mirror of my car. The non-text side contained a photo of a Kali statue that I had never seen before--it was not a Dakineshwar or Kaligat Kali, nor was it the one in Amritapuri. Kali was a light blue color, not the usual black. The text on the reverse explained who Kali was, and that was the opening sentence.
The word "kala" has been kicking around my consciousness for several days. The other day, for no good reason, I was thinking about the name given to me by Mata Amritanandamayi, "Nischala", and how people always confuse it with "Niskala". "Nis" is the Sanskrit root for "Not". "Chala" means "motion"; "Kala" means "time". "Nischala" means "without motion", or more to the point, "stillness", and is one of Kali's one-thousand names. "Niskala" means "without time". Not merely "timeless" but "beyond time". This is a name of Lalita Devi as well as Kali, and Lalita Devi is the creator of the universe--the universe that Kali devours. (And of course, they are actually the same deity in some regard, as all Hindu deities are one). "Lalita", incidentally, is a version of the Sanskrit word for "play". So, Lalita Devi is the "Goddess who Plays". The creator of the universe is playing a game, and you're in it. If you give that some serious thought, it's quite profound.
I recently subscribed to Umberto Eco's Twitter feed. I don't know if Eco writes it, or if someone posts for him, as the posts are in English. Eco can speak English, but only writes in Italian, so I tend to think it's the latter. Eco of course specializes in semiotics, which is the study of signs and sign processes. Semantics is a branch of semiotics that deals with the meaning of signs, and deals mostly with language. One of his recent tweets said, "Semiotics has become a sort of moral critical duty when it was clear that mass media were the new sacred texts." Deconstructing language and its meanings is important. There is a tendency in our culture to accept what we hear at face value, and not to think about what it really means. A great example of this was brought up in another Twitter feed I follow, @Numinousviews. Yesterday, he posted "The question shouldn't simply be does one believe in God or not. One should first ask what does one understand the word God to mean?" I've been reading a lot of 100 level papers about the debate between religion and science. Many students are using the available material well, but they continue to debate about the same old tired, "Can science prove there is a God or not? Can science prove the Bible stories are true or not?" and using that as a benchmark of "truth". I'm not blaming them for that, as this is the first time they've been asked to look at the question, and for many, this is not a major subject of interest. But the real question is "What do you mean by the word God?" All language is symbolic; it stands for our interpretation of the world. "God" is a metaphor for what we don't understand. Religion is a tool for negotiating what we don't understand. Science is also such a tool, but it deals with the observed outer world. Religion deals with the "numinous", as does psychology, at least in the Jungian sense. It deals with the "psyche", or world of the mind.
Returning to the original "Kala", when I think of both Kali and Lalita, I think of the Srichakra (or Sriyantra), which is a symbol of Sri Lalita. It contains 9 interlocking triangles, 4 pointing up (representing Shiva--the god, not my cat), and 5 pointing down (representing Shakti--Kali is the most "extreme" form of Shakti, which is a metaphor for the energy of consciousness). So, it is the Union of everything in the Universe. There is a prayer that is used by adherents of Sri Vidya called the "Sri Devi Khadgamala Stotra". It looks at the 9 triangles of the Srichakra as 9 "circles" or "chakra swamini", and represent deeper and deeper levels of awareness in the universe. Each level contains the names of deities, with the outer circles referring to desires (karshini) and worldly powers (siddhe), and the inner circles representing the dissolution of any kind of form. The innermost triangle, associated with Mahatripurasundari,(i.e., Lalita, great goddess of the 3 worlds--ours, the heavens, and the hells) is in a circle characterized as "para para rahasya yogini", which in a clumsy literal sense means "prior, prior to form (or that capable of being affected by disease)". Because, when one gets to the core of consciousness, there is no form, no motion, and no time. No-thing.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Fear of the Poor
I am currently working on a paper for a conference I’m attending next March. It’s based on an idea I had reading Jake Stratton-Kent’s “Geosophia”, and looks at the afterlife and the role of the goete in society. Kent mentions that at some point in ancient Greek religion, there was a rearrangement of the underworld, with some of its denizens suddenly rising to Olympus (like Dionysus), and others that were venerated became demonized. In general, the underworld became demonized, when initially it was a somewhat neutral place. Scholars have argued that the idea of reward/punishment in the afterlife comes from the need to manage death anxiety. After all, if death just means being a ghost in a dreary underworld, regardless of what you did in life, that would tend to make you fear it all the more.
Of more specific interest is the goete, that outsider class of “clergy” that served a ritual function at funerals. The howls and laments of the goete (the word means “lamenting”) were the sounds that guided the dead to the underworld. They were often feared in Greek society, as they were associated with the thing most feared, death. Anyone having any kind of power over the dead was kept at a distance, just a shamans (which have many similarities to goetes) were on the outside of society, because they had “a foot in both worlds”. To touch that other world made you taboo.
The goete was often wild, unkempt, and on the outskirts of society. They were also poor. As I was thinking about this, it occurred to me that there are many unconscious associations with poverty. To be poor—without a home, without basic needs, without comfort—makes us terribly afraid. It is being swallowed up by chaos, not knowing how one will live from day to day, not knowing where the next meal will come from, or how they will stay warm. Scriptures teach adherents to care for the poor, and provide for their needs. Curiously, in more modern eras, this is an injunction largely ignored by the loudest of the “faithful”, in favor of those scriptural passages that condemn those who are different from themselves.
Modern American mythology suggests that poor people are “lazy”, or that they are really comfortably well-off people in disguise trying to swindle you. It is the justification for taking away things like welfare benefits and public health care, because these people are “useless parasites on the system”. This is not a new mythology; certainly Queen Elizabeth I attempted to deal with poverty during her reign by outlawing it. Recently, the country of Hungary did the same thing. It is “criminal” to be poor, a sign that there is something wrong with you, that you are defective. Given that religion teaches compassion towards the poor, it is clear that this attitude comes out of fear. We do not like to see our worst insecurities manifest in a human being; that human being may as well be the “Devil” himself.
It is another fascinating example of the illogical ways of humans. Logically, if everyone shared even some of what they had, no one would have to go without. Certainly there are those who would try to take advantage, but the most successful social programs have ways of keeping that tendency in check. In a recent conversation on a similar topic with a friend, he noted that from a macroeconomic standpoint, things like welfare and unemployment benefits are subsidies to small business. Even if someone is taking advantage of the system, it doesn’t matter from the macroeconomic point of view. What matters is that the economy is moving and healthy, and that money is circulating, goods are being bought and sold. The morality of that system is irrelevant. In short, economic trouble is not a reason to not help the poor.
It is interesting how fear brings restriction. The government compromises civil liberties in the name of “national security”. We are always armed and loaded (psychologically, not literally) against our fears. And we’re ready to demonize and blame those who challenge us.
You might think that I’m beating this subject to death lately, but I think it’s important that we think about our assumptions about life, especially in light of recent national crises. This is not about “other people”, it’s about me as well, and questioning my own assumptions about the world and my reaction to it. We don’t question our assumptions often enough. And if we aren’t aware of them, we can never hope to change them, only to be ruled by them.
Of more specific interest is the goete, that outsider class of “clergy” that served a ritual function at funerals. The howls and laments of the goete (the word means “lamenting”) were the sounds that guided the dead to the underworld. They were often feared in Greek society, as they were associated with the thing most feared, death. Anyone having any kind of power over the dead was kept at a distance, just a shamans (which have many similarities to goetes) were on the outside of society, because they had “a foot in both worlds”. To touch that other world made you taboo.
The goete was often wild, unkempt, and on the outskirts of society. They were also poor. As I was thinking about this, it occurred to me that there are many unconscious associations with poverty. To be poor—without a home, without basic needs, without comfort—makes us terribly afraid. It is being swallowed up by chaos, not knowing how one will live from day to day, not knowing where the next meal will come from, or how they will stay warm. Scriptures teach adherents to care for the poor, and provide for their needs. Curiously, in more modern eras, this is an injunction largely ignored by the loudest of the “faithful”, in favor of those scriptural passages that condemn those who are different from themselves.
Modern American mythology suggests that poor people are “lazy”, or that they are really comfortably well-off people in disguise trying to swindle you. It is the justification for taking away things like welfare benefits and public health care, because these people are “useless parasites on the system”. This is not a new mythology; certainly Queen Elizabeth I attempted to deal with poverty during her reign by outlawing it. Recently, the country of Hungary did the same thing. It is “criminal” to be poor, a sign that there is something wrong with you, that you are defective. Given that religion teaches compassion towards the poor, it is clear that this attitude comes out of fear. We do not like to see our worst insecurities manifest in a human being; that human being may as well be the “Devil” himself.
It is another fascinating example of the illogical ways of humans. Logically, if everyone shared even some of what they had, no one would have to go without. Certainly there are those who would try to take advantage, but the most successful social programs have ways of keeping that tendency in check. In a recent conversation on a similar topic with a friend, he noted that from a macroeconomic standpoint, things like welfare and unemployment benefits are subsidies to small business. Even if someone is taking advantage of the system, it doesn’t matter from the macroeconomic point of view. What matters is that the economy is moving and healthy, and that money is circulating, goods are being bought and sold. The morality of that system is irrelevant. In short, economic trouble is not a reason to not help the poor.
It is interesting how fear brings restriction. The government compromises civil liberties in the name of “national security”. We are always armed and loaded (psychologically, not literally) against our fears. And we’re ready to demonize and blame those who challenge us.
You might think that I’m beating this subject to death lately, but I think it’s important that we think about our assumptions about life, especially in light of recent national crises. This is not about “other people”, it’s about me as well, and questioning my own assumptions about the world and my reaction to it. We don’t question our assumptions often enough. And if we aren’t aware of them, we can never hope to change them, only to be ruled by them.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Strong?
This past week, Republican presidential “hopeful” Rick Perry put out an ad that managed to be hugely offensive to a large majority of Americans, and even elicited negative comments from many Europeans. If you have not seen the ad, here it is:
Perry ran this ad against the judgment of people on his own campaign. I also find the ad to be offensive, but I’m also delighted that Perry has provided me an opportunity to compare and contrast a widespread “mythical” conception of America and its history with the actual facts. I talk about this ad nauseam in this blog and in conversation, and I find that people still are puzzled when I talk about humans as “irrational” beings informed by their own narratives rather than facts. This tidbit provides me with a concrete example.
First, Perry brings up the idea of gays in the military as somehow being offensive. I’m not going to go off on that tangent, as I’m not interested in discussing the theological issues surrounding homosexuality. To me, it’s another reason you don’t take the Bible as your literal rule book. But the Bible aside, this is a secular country, and what the Bible says is irrelevant—there is no rational reason to disenfranchise gays from any segment of society at all.
Ah, but the rest of the ad talks about “Obama’s war on religion”. Perry states that America was “intended” to be a Christian nation. I am not sure what “Obama’s war on religion” is; perhaps it’s the fact that he didn’t mention God in his Thanksgiving address. As to calling this the “holiday” season rather than the “Christmas” season—well, you can call it whatever you want, but officially you ought to include everyone, especially if you’re a government figure addressing a diverse population. I think that is sensible.
What is offensive in Perry’s ad besides the obvious homophobia is the complete and total ignorance he displays about the reality of life in this country, and American history. But you have to consider that Perry wouldn’t be where he is now if many other people didn’t also have the same level of ignorance. It is not news that people passionately believe in an America that never existed.
While some of the Founding Fathers might have been Christians, many were Deists. You can read a good summary of Deism and its influence on the American founders here. Deism does talk about belief in God, but outside the context of Christianity and Christian churches. It extolled nature and natural law over Christian belief, and was a byproduct of the Rationalist era. We don’t hear about Deism today, but a lot of its ideas have been subsumed by the Unitarian Universalists. While they don’t reject Christianity or the Bible (or any religion), they don’t give it any exceptional status, either. Hence the “universalist” part—it includes everyone, regardless of belief.
As to the rest of the “war on Christmas”, gleefully picked up by Fox News, Jon Stewart has done his usual admirable job of demythologizing that claim:
There is an obvious disconnect between facts and the story being told by Perry and by Fox News, which should surprise no one. But it is clear that in spite of facts, those who believe in Perry’s version of America are not interested in facts—they are interested in their version of the American story, which is a reflection of their own upbringing and their own personal issues. Ideas that tend to exclude or demonize others can be classified as “xenophobic”—they represent a fear of difference, and hence a fear of change (and ultimately of death and the unknown). The attitude towards difference is negative, and Fox has been so successful as a “news” channel because it taps directly into that negative current and validates it. Hand-in-hand with the xenophobia is a sense of victimhood--that the "real" America is "under attack", and that specifically real "Christians" are under attack.
And so it goes, back to Rick Perry.
With the economy near collapse, attempts to cut needed services so that the wealthy are not inconvenienced, recent crackdowns on free speech, and attempts to pass new laws to detain “suspicious” Americans “indefinitely” without trial, it’s not surprising that even those who are more rationally minded would be fearful of what’s next. But America is not collapsing because it's not "Christian" enough, it's collapsing because of bad economic practice. But--understanding the human tendency towards narrative--is it possible to get away from a culture of fear, and take a courageous step towards a new national mythology? Can we look at the New Colossus with new eyes?
Probably not in my lifetime; the collective psyche is a challenging monster.
Perry ran this ad against the judgment of people on his own campaign. I also find the ad to be offensive, but I’m also delighted that Perry has provided me an opportunity to compare and contrast a widespread “mythical” conception of America and its history with the actual facts. I talk about this ad nauseam in this blog and in conversation, and I find that people still are puzzled when I talk about humans as “irrational” beings informed by their own narratives rather than facts. This tidbit provides me with a concrete example.
First, Perry brings up the idea of gays in the military as somehow being offensive. I’m not going to go off on that tangent, as I’m not interested in discussing the theological issues surrounding homosexuality. To me, it’s another reason you don’t take the Bible as your literal rule book. But the Bible aside, this is a secular country, and what the Bible says is irrelevant—there is no rational reason to disenfranchise gays from any segment of society at all.
Ah, but the rest of the ad talks about “Obama’s war on religion”. Perry states that America was “intended” to be a Christian nation. I am not sure what “Obama’s war on religion” is; perhaps it’s the fact that he didn’t mention God in his Thanksgiving address. As to calling this the “holiday” season rather than the “Christmas” season—well, you can call it whatever you want, but officially you ought to include everyone, especially if you’re a government figure addressing a diverse population. I think that is sensible.
What is offensive in Perry’s ad besides the obvious homophobia is the complete and total ignorance he displays about the reality of life in this country, and American history. But you have to consider that Perry wouldn’t be where he is now if many other people didn’t also have the same level of ignorance. It is not news that people passionately believe in an America that never existed.
While some of the Founding Fathers might have been Christians, many were Deists. You can read a good summary of Deism and its influence on the American founders here. Deism does talk about belief in God, but outside the context of Christianity and Christian churches. It extolled nature and natural law over Christian belief, and was a byproduct of the Rationalist era. We don’t hear about Deism today, but a lot of its ideas have been subsumed by the Unitarian Universalists. While they don’t reject Christianity or the Bible (or any religion), they don’t give it any exceptional status, either. Hence the “universalist” part—it includes everyone, regardless of belief.
As to the rest of the “war on Christmas”, gleefully picked up by Fox News, Jon Stewart has done his usual admirable job of demythologizing that claim:
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| Tree Fighting Ceremony | ||||
| ||||
There is an obvious disconnect between facts and the story being told by Perry and by Fox News, which should surprise no one. But it is clear that in spite of facts, those who believe in Perry’s version of America are not interested in facts—they are interested in their version of the American story, which is a reflection of their own upbringing and their own personal issues. Ideas that tend to exclude or demonize others can be classified as “xenophobic”—they represent a fear of difference, and hence a fear of change (and ultimately of death and the unknown). The attitude towards difference is negative, and Fox has been so successful as a “news” channel because it taps directly into that negative current and validates it. Hand-in-hand with the xenophobia is a sense of victimhood--that the "real" America is "under attack", and that specifically real "Christians" are under attack.
And so it goes, back to Rick Perry.
With the economy near collapse, attempts to cut needed services so that the wealthy are not inconvenienced, recent crackdowns on free speech, and attempts to pass new laws to detain “suspicious” Americans “indefinitely” without trial, it’s not surprising that even those who are more rationally minded would be fearful of what’s next. But America is not collapsing because it's not "Christian" enough, it's collapsing because of bad economic practice. But--understanding the human tendency towards narrative--is it possible to get away from a culture of fear, and take a courageous step towards a new national mythology? Can we look at the New Colossus with new eyes?
Probably not in my lifetime; the collective psyche is a challenging monster.
Thursday, December 01, 2011
Concerts
Maxwell’s is a music venue and restaurant in Hoboken that has the distinction of being one of the few non-yuppified places in that community. It’s become one of the only places in New Jersey to see classic punk or post-punk bands, and a lot of random weirdness. My friend Liz told me about a concert she attended there, where the opening act was a Japanese band. The singer spoke no English, screamed a lot into the microphone, and proceeded to strip down to butt-nakedness throughout the set.
I went to Maxwell’s on Sunday with Liz and her brother Joe. We were spared any naked Japanese singers, as we were going to see Chameleons Vox, which consists of Mark Burgess and John Lever from the original Chameleons, and three other non-original members (Ray Bowles, Neil Dwerryhouse, and Chris Oliver). I’d heard music by the Chameleons in the past, and I’d always liked them, though I probably wouldn’t have known about this show if it wasn’t for Chris Oliver. If you may recall from my England trip postings, Chris Oliver is on John Foxx’s tech crew. He gave me the tour dates while he was setting up for Foxx’s gig in York. So, I wanted to hear them live, and I wanted to say hello to Chris again. Black Swan Lane opened for them, and we agreed that we liked their sound—clearly very Chameleons-influenced, which is not surprising, as Mark Burgess was involved in at least some of the songwriting.
I’ll just cut right to it—the gig was spectacular. I’m used to British performers who are much like John Foxx—they get onstage, they say hello, they do their set, maybe introduce the band, then say good night. There’s not much, if any, banter with the audience—it’s all “business”. Mark Burgess is the exact opposite. He seemed to be acting out every song, was very chatty with the audience, and during “Second Skin”, he made his way around the audience before returning to stage. While the band had a setlist, they made at least one on-the-fly change by special request, and made some on the spot decisions when they came back for an encore, as they didn’t have any encore numbers prepared.
You can see the first few numbers of the gig in this video, taken by an audience member:
I was just stunned by the end of the gig. They were just really, really mindblowing-ly good. My friend Anna said that Mark Burgess always seems so happy when he’s onstage, and that may be a part of it—his demeanor and energy was infectious. Anyone who could have walked away from that gig and not liked it would have to be the sort of person who kicks puppies and pushes old people down the stairs.
Two days later, on a rainy and windy Tuesday night, I found myself in Brooklyn. It’s probably been ten years since I’ve been there. There was a certain incongruity between the warmth of the evening and the fact that someone bought a live Christmas tree and brought it onto the L train. On the plus side, it made the subway car smell nice, not something you often hear anyone say about subway cars.
I searched for a place to have dinner, and found a restaurant that met all of my criteria (dark and atmospheric, preferably lots of wood décor, must not be fussy or vegetarian, and must have beer). I was serenaded through dinner with Rush’s greatest hits. (No, not Rush Limbaugh. The Canadian metal band Rush). I found this to be a huge improvement over the usual garbage I have to listen to while I’m digesting my food. I particularly hate listening to “soft rock” while I’m eating. I don’t know why people find it “soothing” to listen to some melodramatic male singer who sounds like someone’s taken a cheese grater to his member. Or a female singer who sounds like she’s trying to hit every possible note in the human vocal range. Or the Eagles. Tara Busch posted a tweet last week about a trip to Whole Foods, where she was subjected to the sound of Rod Stewart covering an Eagles song. (And they had no coffee). There should be federal punishment for that.
After dinner I went to the Trash Bar, where my friend Mark’s band, Some Awful Bridge, was playing. They were playing 1980s era Iron Maiden at the bar outside the venue room, a la “Number of the Beast”. I read a critique of the Trash Bar where people complained that the music they played was “too old” and they didn’t know the songs. I knew every song. Which probably means I’m old. The Iron Maiden songs formed another strange contrast with the first artist who played that night, Myles Manley, whose music is more on the folk side.
I knew Mark had a band, but I’d never heard them before last night. Their Facebook page describes their music as a “Pretentious new wave-y, gothy, shoegaze-y atrocity”. That’s probably the best description (not really pretentious, though), as you couldn’t pin their music to a specific genre. You can get a sense of what they sound like here (though be warned that the MySpace player is not the greatest when it comes to streaming audio).These guys are very good, and do a good live show. (I’m not sure I get the pig and accordion bit, but hey, I don’t have to understand everything). It would have been nice if they had a bigger crowd, though Tuesday night in Brooklyn is a rough time slot. So, if they’re playing near you, be sure to go see them and buy their stuff.
This week has been fun, but of course that never lasts. My cat developed a "problem" last night that made him climb the walls, try to pee on my bed, and caused him to frantically dig at the front door. Since this is decidedly odd cat behavior, I took him to the emergency vet at midnight, and it turns out he had a blockage (if you don't know about cats, that's potentially fatal if not treated). So, Shiva is in the hospital as I write this, looking a bit like the stereotypical spinster:
This has left me in a decidedly distracted state of mind, and has disrupted my week at a time when I could least stand to be disrupted. Life is like that, I suppose...
I went to Maxwell’s on Sunday with Liz and her brother Joe. We were spared any naked Japanese singers, as we were going to see Chameleons Vox, which consists of Mark Burgess and John Lever from the original Chameleons, and three other non-original members (Ray Bowles, Neil Dwerryhouse, and Chris Oliver). I’d heard music by the Chameleons in the past, and I’d always liked them, though I probably wouldn’t have known about this show if it wasn’t for Chris Oliver. If you may recall from my England trip postings, Chris Oliver is on John Foxx’s tech crew. He gave me the tour dates while he was setting up for Foxx’s gig in York. So, I wanted to hear them live, and I wanted to say hello to Chris again. Black Swan Lane opened for them, and we agreed that we liked their sound—clearly very Chameleons-influenced, which is not surprising, as Mark Burgess was involved in at least some of the songwriting.
I’ll just cut right to it—the gig was spectacular. I’m used to British performers who are much like John Foxx—they get onstage, they say hello, they do their set, maybe introduce the band, then say good night. There’s not much, if any, banter with the audience—it’s all “business”. Mark Burgess is the exact opposite. He seemed to be acting out every song, was very chatty with the audience, and during “Second Skin”, he made his way around the audience before returning to stage. While the band had a setlist, they made at least one on-the-fly change by special request, and made some on the spot decisions when they came back for an encore, as they didn’t have any encore numbers prepared.
You can see the first few numbers of the gig in this video, taken by an audience member:
I was just stunned by the end of the gig. They were just really, really mindblowing-ly good. My friend Anna said that Mark Burgess always seems so happy when he’s onstage, and that may be a part of it—his demeanor and energy was infectious. Anyone who could have walked away from that gig and not liked it would have to be the sort of person who kicks puppies and pushes old people down the stairs.
Two days later, on a rainy and windy Tuesday night, I found myself in Brooklyn. It’s probably been ten years since I’ve been there. There was a certain incongruity between the warmth of the evening and the fact that someone bought a live Christmas tree and brought it onto the L train. On the plus side, it made the subway car smell nice, not something you often hear anyone say about subway cars.
I searched for a place to have dinner, and found a restaurant that met all of my criteria (dark and atmospheric, preferably lots of wood décor, must not be fussy or vegetarian, and must have beer). I was serenaded through dinner with Rush’s greatest hits. (No, not Rush Limbaugh. The Canadian metal band Rush). I found this to be a huge improvement over the usual garbage I have to listen to while I’m digesting my food. I particularly hate listening to “soft rock” while I’m eating. I don’t know why people find it “soothing” to listen to some melodramatic male singer who sounds like someone’s taken a cheese grater to his member. Or a female singer who sounds like she’s trying to hit every possible note in the human vocal range. Or the Eagles. Tara Busch posted a tweet last week about a trip to Whole Foods, where she was subjected to the sound of Rod Stewart covering an Eagles song. (And they had no coffee). There should be federal punishment for that.
After dinner I went to the Trash Bar, where my friend Mark’s band, Some Awful Bridge, was playing. They were playing 1980s era Iron Maiden at the bar outside the venue room, a la “Number of the Beast”. I read a critique of the Trash Bar where people complained that the music they played was “too old” and they didn’t know the songs. I knew every song. Which probably means I’m old. The Iron Maiden songs formed another strange contrast with the first artist who played that night, Myles Manley, whose music is more on the folk side.
I knew Mark had a band, but I’d never heard them before last night. Their Facebook page describes their music as a “Pretentious new wave-y, gothy, shoegaze-y atrocity”. That’s probably the best description (not really pretentious, though), as you couldn’t pin their music to a specific genre. You can get a sense of what they sound like here (though be warned that the MySpace player is not the greatest when it comes to streaming audio).These guys are very good, and do a good live show. (I’m not sure I get the pig and accordion bit, but hey, I don’t have to understand everything). It would have been nice if they had a bigger crowd, though Tuesday night in Brooklyn is a rough time slot. So, if they’re playing near you, be sure to go see them and buy their stuff.
This week has been fun, but of course that never lasts. My cat developed a "problem" last night that made him climb the walls, try to pee on my bed, and caused him to frantically dig at the front door. Since this is decidedly odd cat behavior, I took him to the emergency vet at midnight, and it turns out he had a blockage (if you don't know about cats, that's potentially fatal if not treated). So, Shiva is in the hospital as I write this, looking a bit like the stereotypical spinster:
This has left me in a decidedly distracted state of mind, and has disrupted my week at a time when I could least stand to be disrupted. Life is like that, I suppose...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)