Humanity. What a lovely thing it is. Full of human interactions to be treasured and, well, misunderstood. And with all this big hooloo about sexy time, it's no wonder that one of the big misunderstandings of our world seems to be about flirtation. "You like me?" "No, you like me?" "No, you flirting?" "Wait, you flirting?" (translated from caveman)
I was at a dance class once, and found myself practicing a new move with a randomly selected young woman. Perhaps she was attractive, but that's not the point. After successfully completing a simple move, I turned to her with a smile and dryly said, "We're HOT!" Her face blank, she responded,
"Thanks; I'm married."
Ah, no! Ah, I said We! WE'RE hot! No, no...damn. There's no recovery from that. From...from what? A silly statement intended to build camaraderie? That was certainly unforgivable!
But you know, none of this is really real, right? It's all just a metaphor.
A metaphor for misunderstood feelings.
What's that? That's not a metaphor? It's an example? Oh, I'm sorry, I knew that, I was being abstract. Didn't you get that? My bad. Or is it?
So here's the question: Whose job is it to understand? And, is it even possible? I mean, how clear do I have to be? "Hey, when you and I just successfully pulled off that dance move just a moment ago, I was pleased with how well we did, and wanted to include you in the celebration of our skill by remarking that we are really hot, as in, on fire, which is a popular slang term for being awesome, which means, we did well. I'm not hitting on you. You're attractive, but I'm not interested. I'm here with a girl. Over there. We're hitting it off pretty well, but I don't know how she feels about me. Anyway, nice job with that turn."
That's clear, right? No room for confusion there. Except for the blatant disregard for social conventions.
The other extreme of course, would be silence. A smoldering gaze of appreciation. Or a slight smile. The tiniest of indications of your thoughts or feelings, and then the hope or assumption that the other person will magically pick up on what you mean.
Strangely, that seems to be far more common. For such a verbal species, we can be surprisingly non-verbal when it comes to emotional expression. And yet- how often do we get confirmation on this? How do we actually know our message is read?
I mean, she could have said, "Yeah, we are!" And I would have gone home satisfied that I'd had a nice moment. But who knows what she was thinking. Maybe she meant "Yes, we're both very attractive, so let's get it on!" or "Yes, I'm hot, but you are too. Aw, mutual compliments!" or "Yes, we DID do well!" or "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I've found that agreeing with people makes them smile more!"
My point? My point is that no matter how clear or vague you are, it seems like there's the possibility of misunderstanding. Sometimes it's obvious, sometimes you never know, and other times you actually ARE on the same page.
Finally, just to throw some more muck in the bucket, I want to point to the possibility that, as empathetic creatures, we are on the same emotional page a lot more than you might think...that when you feel that *zing* with a pretty person, they DO feel it too. That when you think *my god, this is a kindred spirit* they do too. That when you think, "this silent moment on the ferry with an old man I haven't exchanged a single word with is magical", he's feeling the magic. BUT, and here's the muck, BUT we are all such different people with different backgrounds, that though we share that same emotional link, our conscious interpretations could be totally different.
You feel warmth, and think love. She feels the same warmth, and thinks lust. You'll feel the magic on the ferry and think, fate. The old man feels the magic and thinks, "finally, someone who doesn't just blather on about sunsets." You have an incredible conversation with someone and you want to see them again tomorrow, the next day, and every day. They think, "What an incredible conversation! I never want to see that person again, so it can never be tarnished."
The emotion and the intellect. They CAN contradict each other, or at the very least, make things complicated. Like two circles in a Venn diagram, overlapping to varying degrees depending on the subject. Things Which My Emotions Perceive/Desire, Things Which My Mind Perceives/Desires. And the space they share? Maybe that's intuition. Maybe that's your gut. Or maybe it's something entirely different. I'm not sure, but it seems like a good sweet spot to shoot for.
I'm getting off-topic, I know. Let's try to bring it together. Things can be confusing. You WILL be misunderstood. You can try and clarify things to varying degrees, and I highly recommend the attempt. But there WILL be misunderstandings, and you won't every truly know if you've been understood.
Could there be freedom in this realization?
Could we accept that no matter what we do, there's the possibility of confusion, and so train ourselves to express things in the way most natural, most comfortable, to us? To speak or act our truths so clearly and so promptly that we'll feel no regrets or self-judgment regardless of our reception?
Can I look her warmly in the eyes and say "That turn was awesome."?
Can you turn to the old man and quietly say "Thank you for that" before leaving?
Can you go to that girl at the bar and say, "I think your dress looks incredible on you. Also, your eyes sparkle."
How would that feel?
Or could there be a way to escape the ambiguity and misunderstanding? That would be even better, I think.
So. This whole post is a metaphor for burning your hand on the stove. Sometimes you just don't know it was hot, no matter how many people warned you, no matter how red it looked. Are you stupid? No. Are you blind? No. You just convinced yourself that it was ok to touch it, and that it was good to touch it. That's what we do. That's what we're good at. The trick is to convince ourselves to do things we love, to touch things that will heal us and brings us happiness. And maybe sometimes burning your hand is exactly what you need.
Cheers.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Citrus (Calico)
"To a person with a lemon, everything looks like a dish that needs citrus-garnishing."
You might say that I'm stretching it by relating a metaphor of an aphorism which is likely intended to be metaphorical, but I might say, "screw it, it's my blog", but with love, and only a hint of power-trip.
I read a book recently, called "Loving What Is". It's sort of book of wisdom, talking about letting go of your beliefs about things, and about what should be, and instead embracing reality. The focus of this book is a technique known as Byron Katie's (the author) Work.
After a few months of using this technique, and from it finding more reprieve from emotional duress than anything I'd come across before, as well as getting tons of epiphanies about life, reality, and my own thinking, I became "the person with the lemon".
Anytime anybody was upset, be it friend, family, colleague or client, my first instinct would be to either recommend them the book or teach them the technique. It haunted me. I wanted everyone to use it. I felt like the world would be so much better, that people would be so much happier.
Of course, this line of thinking utterly went against the principles of the book, in that I was stuck on this set of beliefs that people were upset, that they shouldn't be upset, and that the technique would help them.
People who win the lottery often go bankrupt.
People with high-speed internet phones will google things all the time.
Really fat people will, er, that is, I'm not sure.
The fact is, when something is on our minds, we apply it to everything. Just like the guy who has been recently dumped will advise all his friends based on things that happened to him in the course of the relationship, we use the tools we have, be they physical or intellectual. We use the tools that are at hand.
This can, perhaps, give us some empathy for the broken records among us. My experience with Loving What Is helps me understand door-to-door proselytizers. Their motives, while perhaps offensive to some of us, may be very good and loving. I was surely irritating to some friends as I kept citing this book over and over ad nauseum, but I think they all understood that it was something I thought would help. (would it? Just because someone saved my life by pouring a bucket of water on my head when I was on fire doesn't mean I will cure my friend's measles by doing the same. However, that's a whole 'nother post.)
I think the interesting place to take this is not questioning the lemoneer for the lemon frenzy- after all, they have lemons, of course they want to use them. Instead, how did the lemons get into their hands?
How is it that this particular book stuck with me?
Why did the rice-eater buy so much rice?
Why did the very fat person eat so very much?
Is it all fate, and luck of the draw, or do we have pre-propensities?
If I hadn't found this book, would I be spouting on about some other technique, or making on up of my own?
Would the rice-bagger instead have found themself in excess of another grain or food-item?
When the lemoneer have been sour-seeking in other ways?
(nothing more on the very fat person)
It's sort of question of nature vs. nurture, or chicken and the egg. We are what we think, we act on what have have or what we can do- but how did we find the thoughts, find our abilities?
Perhaps, this is...the true nature of the soul?
Or perhaps I'm skipping a whole lot of basic child psychology theories. It doesn't matter. I really want some lemonade right now. It just, seems like the thing.
You might say that I'm stretching it by relating a metaphor of an aphorism which is likely intended to be metaphorical, but I might say, "screw it, it's my blog", but with love, and only a hint of power-trip.
I read a book recently, called "Loving What Is". It's sort of book of wisdom, talking about letting go of your beliefs about things, and about what should be, and instead embracing reality. The focus of this book is a technique known as Byron Katie's (the author) Work.
After a few months of using this technique, and from it finding more reprieve from emotional duress than anything I'd come across before, as well as getting tons of epiphanies about life, reality, and my own thinking, I became "the person with the lemon".
Anytime anybody was upset, be it friend, family, colleague or client, my first instinct would be to either recommend them the book or teach them the technique. It haunted me. I wanted everyone to use it. I felt like the world would be so much better, that people would be so much happier.
Of course, this line of thinking utterly went against the principles of the book, in that I was stuck on this set of beliefs that people were upset, that they shouldn't be upset, and that the technique would help them.
People who win the lottery often go bankrupt.
People with high-speed internet phones will google things all the time.
Really fat people will, er, that is, I'm not sure.
The fact is, when something is on our minds, we apply it to everything. Just like the guy who has been recently dumped will advise all his friends based on things that happened to him in the course of the relationship, we use the tools we have, be they physical or intellectual. We use the tools that are at hand.
This can, perhaps, give us some empathy for the broken records among us. My experience with Loving What Is helps me understand door-to-door proselytizers. Their motives, while perhaps offensive to some of us, may be very good and loving. I was surely irritating to some friends as I kept citing this book over and over ad nauseum, but I think they all understood that it was something I thought would help. (would it? Just because someone saved my life by pouring a bucket of water on my head when I was on fire doesn't mean I will cure my friend's measles by doing the same. However, that's a whole 'nother post.)
I think the interesting place to take this is not questioning the lemoneer for the lemon frenzy- after all, they have lemons, of course they want to use them. Instead, how did the lemons get into their hands?
How is it that this particular book stuck with me?
Why did the rice-eater buy so much rice?
Why did the very fat person eat so very much?
Is it all fate, and luck of the draw, or do we have pre-propensities?
If I hadn't found this book, would I be spouting on about some other technique, or making on up of my own?
Would the rice-bagger instead have found themself in excess of another grain or food-item?
When the lemoneer have been sour-seeking in other ways?
(nothing more on the very fat person)
It's sort of question of nature vs. nurture, or chicken and the egg. We are what we think, we act on what have have or what we can do- but how did we find the thoughts, find our abilities?
Perhaps, this is...the true nature of the soul?
Or perhaps I'm skipping a whole lot of basic child psychology theories. It doesn't matter. I really want some lemonade right now. It just, seems like the thing.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Co-coaching (wikipedia)
"Co-coaching is the structured practice of mutual exchange of coaching support among peers. This can take the form of a range of practices. One form involves each individual taking turns to be coach in half hour sessions."
I'm thinking about the stars and the moons, the planets, the comets, the celestial orbs and swirls which make up our night sky. Each one has something to teach the others, coaching them into certain orbits, encouraging certain momentums, weighing in their advice, amassing movements of wisdom and propelling one another into paths of synchronicity. They take turns: Sometimes Mars looms close and takes the lead, influencing strongly with the gravity of his persona- but then he'll zoom away, join the chorus, and it will be Mercury, or the Comet, or any number of other voices.
I'm thinking about politicians and hobos, friends and strangers, salesmen and grocery clerks. Everybody scratching their own paths into the woodwork of the world, but each coaching the others in windows of time, some long, some brief. "Have a nice day" said with warmth, "Danger Level Orange", "This will change your life," "I think you should stop and think before you tell her," "What are you wearing?"
The beauty of co-coaching is that it's the coaching of peers. We cannot ignore the affects of Joe Salesman anymore than we can ignore the charm of Venus. But we can take their pull and run with it, using it to direct our own paths, trusting that even if one coach is utterly inaccurate in his suggestions, that world is still a hospitable, synchronous place.
I'm thinking about the stars and the moons, the planets, the comets, the celestial orbs and swirls which make up our night sky. Each one has something to teach the others, coaching them into certain orbits, encouraging certain momentums, weighing in their advice, amassing movements of wisdom and propelling one another into paths of synchronicity. They take turns: Sometimes Mars looms close and takes the lead, influencing strongly with the gravity of his persona- but then he'll zoom away, join the chorus, and it will be Mercury, or the Comet, or any number of other voices.
I'm thinking about politicians and hobos, friends and strangers, salesmen and grocery clerks. Everybody scratching their own paths into the woodwork of the world, but each coaching the others in windows of time, some long, some brief. "Have a nice day" said with warmth, "Danger Level Orange", "This will change your life," "I think you should stop and think before you tell her," "What are you wearing?"
The beauty of co-coaching is that it's the coaching of peers. We cannot ignore the affects of Joe Salesman anymore than we can ignore the charm of Venus. But we can take their pull and run with it, using it to direct our own paths, trusting that even if one coach is utterly inaccurate in his suggestions, that world is still a hospitable, synchronous place.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Bellybutton Lint (Melissa)
--My challenge, from Melissa of Bobo-isms: Blog on bellybutton lint, and be subtle.
People are multi-faceted. It's a good thing. When you meet me, you'll first see my body, my posture, then you'll hear my voice, then my words; you'll see the face I present, that social projection, and then you'll start getting to know who I am behind that projection. Eventually you'll begin to get to know my deeper self, you'll encounter my hidden strengths, my weaknesses, my eccentricities; my habits, beliefs, inspirations. You'll see different things, different aspects of each of these things, all the time, as I'm always changing, and forever undulating under the light of your perception. I swagger and meander, I shoot for the stars I am stellar. And so are you. All this applies to you too.
One thing you may not see for awhile is my belly button.
--
"We've got some promising applicants, Jim," Gary Kreller, CEO of Towder Inc. said to the VP, "and one of them stands out above the rest: Kyle Orion Turner-Gorder. Aside from his bizarre name and completely meaningless initials, his resume shows him to be exactly what we're looking for."
Jim Peters nodded. "Except, he's got some bellybutton lint."
"Oh?"
"Yes. His references are excellent, but when I called his previous employers I found that he'd been pulled into some company drama. Nothing dramatic, and nothing caused by him, but, there were some problems."
"Well," Kreller said with a forgiving shrug, "Companies have their drama. The important thing is that he wasn't the instigator."
"Well, no one asks for bellybutton lint, sir, but the choice to wear the sweater without an undershirt belongs to the wearer. He's been involved in company dramas at multiple companies. He always gets involved. He's doesn't propel it forward, but he doesn't avoid it either."
"Ah. A man who doesn't clean out his bellybutton."
"I'm not sure if we want a man who doesn't clean out his bellybutton. And especially not a man who doesn't learn to wear undershirts."
"Well, I guess Kyle Orion Turner-Gorder is out of the picture."
--
I don't have any skeletons in my closet. Nothing so dramatic as that. I imagine you don't either. What I do have, is a bit of bellybutton lint. Some things happen to me, and I don't consider them to be serious issues, so I'll allow them to continue happening without taking steps to prevent it. Much like bellybutton lint. Oh, we'll clean it out every once in a while. Get our life in order. Buck up. Resolve conflicts. But is it really worth it to us to change our habits? To wear that undershirt? To seek out lint free garments? It's just lint, after all. It doesn't even come from us. Merely incidental.
Bellybuttons, I'm told, can be a little sexy. You're seeing someone's vulnerable areas, seeing into their private life. Finding a bit of lint can be charming and endearing. What if you found lint every time you looked? You might start to wonder, why is this person's bellybutton always lint-filled?
But don't wear an undershirt for others, wear it for yourself. Just like having a clean room can lend some sanity to your life, so too, subtly, can having a clean bellybutton.
And guys, don't whip out your lint on the first date.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Pete Lammons (wikipedia)
"Peter Spencer Lammons, Jr. (born October 20, 1943 in Crockett, Texas) is a former professional American football player who played tight end for the American Football League's New York Jets, winning the AFL Championship with them in 1968, and playing in their victory over the NFL's overrated champion Baltimore Colts in the third AFL-NFL World Championship game. He also played for the NFL's Green Bay Packers."
Tight end. That title would only be funny to someone who knows next to nothing about football.
I have seen a dozen quarterbikes spike a basket, so clearly it's not funny to me. *snicker*
Pete Lammons. He played football. He played football for the Jets, and won! He helped them defeat the 'overrated Colts'. He also played for the Packers. He was in both the NFL, and the AFL. You've heard of him, right? Let's go:
"Son, love is complicated. They say life is like a box of chocolates, because you never know what you're going to get. But love, love is like Pete Lammons. It can be pretty great, it can help you win in life, but you never know how long it's going to play for your team. That young Harvey is making the moves on Christy? Well, like Pete, love is great for defeating those young colts, but only if you use it right. You can't rely on love, you can't use it exclusively, or else you'll injure it and it will spend the rest of the season limping around. Love is an important player, but it's a member of the team, and you treat it as such. And son, love will play for the other team, but that's ok, because, like Pete, love gets around, and every time love loves, it gets stronger. Maybe Pete played for the Packers a bit, but if and when he went back to the Jets, you know he was stronger and more skilled."
I've heard it argued that we can only truly love one person, or only be in love with one person, at a time. Maybe there's truth to this- it would be tough to be actively head over heels with two+ people simultaniously. But I don't think love is restrictive. If someone loves you, and then they turn and love someone else, the instinct can be to think, "Oh no! Less love for me!" But I'm starting to think that the more someone loves, the better they are at it. A weird thought, but, I think it's true.
The argument to this could be forms of love. If Pete gets a contract with the Packers, he might play a pick-up game with the Jets for fun here and there, but he's not going to be their main man anymore, and he probably won't go into the competitive bloodlust that he does in a 'big game'. If you're dating Joe Johnson, and he turns around and marries Jamie Lou, one can imagine his love for you will change a bit-- or does it? Maybe it's just the expression of that love?
If you're dating your best friend, and she breaks up with you, but keeps spending every day with you, keeps doing everything you used to do together aside from the sexy times, is that really so tragic? What have you lost? Are you afraid of losing her later, to some other man? But she loves you! She clearly loves you! If she loves another dude also, well, she may have less time, but will she have less love?
I don't know where I'm going with this one. Let's ask Pete, then I'll sign off.
Pete is playing for the Jets, and it's great. They beat the Colts. Then he leaves the team, and signs a contrat with the Packers. Maybe he still comes back for drinks with the Jets, hangs out with the guys, but he doesn't play with them anymore. The Jets aren't hurt for playing- it takes them some time, but they find a new player to replace Pete. And they aren't hurt for missing Pete, 'cause he's still around. It was fun to play football with Pete, but the fact is, they still get Pete, and they still get football. The main loss is, less TIME with Pete. But Pete made the choices that he wanted to make, so though the get less Pete, they get a happy Pete. The assumption that comes with anyone on the Jets regretting that Pete is off the team, is that had Pete stayed it would have been the same. But once Pete decides to leave, even if you disband the Packers so he has no place to leave to, he ain't gonna be the same.
No one holds down Pete Lammons.
No one holds down love.
And I know I used Pete as a metaphor for both love, and the lover, but think of it as an opportunity to comment...
Study Question: What is the difference between love, and the lover?
Ziao!
Tight end. That title would only be funny to someone who knows next to nothing about football.
I have seen a dozen quarterbikes spike a basket, so clearly it's not funny to me. *snicker*
Pete Lammons. He played football. He played football for the Jets, and won! He helped them defeat the 'overrated Colts'. He also played for the Packers. He was in both the NFL, and the AFL. You've heard of him, right? Let's go:
"Son, love is complicated. They say life is like a box of chocolates, because you never know what you're going to get. But love, love is like Pete Lammons. It can be pretty great, it can help you win in life, but you never know how long it's going to play for your team. That young Harvey is making the moves on Christy? Well, like Pete, love is great for defeating those young colts, but only if you use it right. You can't rely on love, you can't use it exclusively, or else you'll injure it and it will spend the rest of the season limping around. Love is an important player, but it's a member of the team, and you treat it as such. And son, love will play for the other team, but that's ok, because, like Pete, love gets around, and every time love loves, it gets stronger. Maybe Pete played for the Packers a bit, but if and when he went back to the Jets, you know he was stronger and more skilled."
I've heard it argued that we can only truly love one person, or only be in love with one person, at a time. Maybe there's truth to this- it would be tough to be actively head over heels with two+ people simultaniously. But I don't think love is restrictive. If someone loves you, and then they turn and love someone else, the instinct can be to think, "Oh no! Less love for me!" But I'm starting to think that the more someone loves, the better they are at it. A weird thought, but, I think it's true.
The argument to this could be forms of love. If Pete gets a contract with the Packers, he might play a pick-up game with the Jets for fun here and there, but he's not going to be their main man anymore, and he probably won't go into the competitive bloodlust that he does in a 'big game'. If you're dating Joe Johnson, and he turns around and marries Jamie Lou, one can imagine his love for you will change a bit-- or does it? Maybe it's just the expression of that love?
If you're dating your best friend, and she breaks up with you, but keeps spending every day with you, keeps doing everything you used to do together aside from the sexy times, is that really so tragic? What have you lost? Are you afraid of losing her later, to some other man? But she loves you! She clearly loves you! If she loves another dude also, well, she may have less time, but will she have less love?
I don't know where I'm going with this one. Let's ask Pete, then I'll sign off.
Pete is playing for the Jets, and it's great. They beat the Colts. Then he leaves the team, and signs a contrat with the Packers. Maybe he still comes back for drinks with the Jets, hangs out with the guys, but he doesn't play with them anymore. The Jets aren't hurt for playing- it takes them some time, but they find a new player to replace Pete. And they aren't hurt for missing Pete, 'cause he's still around. It was fun to play football with Pete, but the fact is, they still get Pete, and they still get football. The main loss is, less TIME with Pete. But Pete made the choices that he wanted to make, so though the get less Pete, they get a happy Pete. The assumption that comes with anyone on the Jets regretting that Pete is off the team, is that had Pete stayed it would have been the same. But once Pete decides to leave, even if you disband the Packers so he has no place to leave to, he ain't gonna be the same.
No one holds down Pete Lammons.
No one holds down love.
And I know I used Pete as a metaphor for both love, and the lover, but think of it as an opportunity to comment...
Study Question: What is the difference between love, and the lover?
Ziao!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
The 2000 Catalan motorcycle Grand Prix (wikipedia)
"The 2000 Catalan motorcycle Grand Prix was the seventh round of the 2000 Grand Prix motorcycle racing season. It took place on June 11, 2000 at the Circuit de Catalunya."
If you were there, it was everything. The rumble of the bikes, the cheers of the crowd, the scent of gas and dirt in the hot, summer air- but it was just one round of a 16 round racing season, one season out of about sixty so far. It was one of those days that consumed your world, your mind; a day where your heart beat to the rhythm of the engines, where you hungered for speed and were parched for victory.
It was one of those days- well, it was a one of these days. A day. 24 hours. We do this all the time. Day, day, day, day, every day a day. But the 2000 Catalan motorcycle Grand Prix! That was special! Well, maybe, but it was also a day.
June 11, 2000. I hate to rhyme 'sailboat' with 'boat' but that's what I'm going to do: The Cicuit de Catalunya's Grand Prix represents, yes, a day.
When you're in it, it's everything, but if you step back, it's just part of a greater whole: Your life. History. Eternity. Or is it? Which is real, the moment, or the spectrum? The physical, touchable, adrenaline-pumped present, or the dry, intangible timeline?
"Oh, Kenny Roberts Jr. got 25 points! Sure beats his 10 pointer last round!" We can look back into the past, laugh and regret, or make bets on the scores of the future (I've got my money on Kenny's retirement, whatever the heck that means).
Many people spend much of their lives considering which action will have the most positive benefit for their future, or pondering which of their past actions were mistakes, and how things may have gone better.
The alternative, of course, is to sit on the edge of your seat, all day, immersed fully in the experience, then go home, sleep, immersed fully in your blankets (unless it's hot). You'll make bets on the future if you feel like it, but that's hardly going to be what consumes your thoughts- the drive to the race, the race, and the drive home from the race are far too exciting to be worried over what will happen tomorrow.
But, but, but, people argue- the 2000 Catalan motorcycle Grand Prix was only one round! You've got to consider the whole picture if you want to enjoy it fully. Not to mention make sure you have tickets for every race, good seats, snacks, and the full backstory of every rider. If you just show up you'll be lucky if you make one round.
What about life plans? What about careers? What about choosing a major for school or deciding whether you should stick with the stressful job in order to get the promotion to the job you've wanted all along? These are all decisions which pertain to the future. Decisions where you assess your goals, your knowledge of yourself and the world, and make your best guess for how to get what you want in the most painless and expedient way possible.
Look to the riders. We can assume that they are pretty damned present as they ride their bikes, and I'm going to guess, just guess, that the winners are the ones who prepare most efficiently without worrying too heavily. They tune up their bikes, stretch their muscles, drink their water, and get a full night's sleep. They prepared, but they remain present. Am I presuming? Yes. I have no evidence whatsoever to support this. But I'll bet, statistically, that I'm right.
You can live in the moment and make plans. But they aren't plans, they are movements. The plan of a mindful person is an action. "I like to know things," she thinks, and she sits down to open a book. "I like to win," he says, and he double checks the connections on his bike. "I like the sciences," she says, and she registers for a college course in mathematics. And when his wife comes in with hot cocoa, he sets down his wrench and he drinks it with her, because he loves his wife, and he loves his cocoa.
Am I idealistic? Yes. But let's start with the beautiful extremes, find the flaws, and then back it up a bit into a delightful, functional life philosophy. We could do this with social and political structures as well, and it has been done- but that's a subject for another day.
I invite your comments on this. Tell me where the holes are, and I'll see about filling them up.
If you were there, it was everything. The rumble of the bikes, the cheers of the crowd, the scent of gas and dirt in the hot, summer air- but it was just one round of a 16 round racing season, one season out of about sixty so far. It was one of those days that consumed your world, your mind; a day where your heart beat to the rhythm of the engines, where you hungered for speed and were parched for victory.
It was one of those days- well, it was a one of these days. A day. 24 hours. We do this all the time. Day, day, day, day, every day a day. But the 2000 Catalan motorcycle Grand Prix! That was special! Well, maybe, but it was also a day.
June 11, 2000. I hate to rhyme 'sailboat' with 'boat' but that's what I'm going to do: The Cicuit de Catalunya's Grand Prix represents, yes, a day.
When you're in it, it's everything, but if you step back, it's just part of a greater whole: Your life. History. Eternity. Or is it? Which is real, the moment, or the spectrum? The physical, touchable, adrenaline-pumped present, or the dry, intangible timeline?
"Oh, Kenny Roberts Jr. got 25 points! Sure beats his 10 pointer last round!" We can look back into the past, laugh and regret, or make bets on the scores of the future (I've got my money on Kenny's retirement, whatever the heck that means).
Many people spend much of their lives considering which action will have the most positive benefit for their future, or pondering which of their past actions were mistakes, and how things may have gone better.
The alternative, of course, is to sit on the edge of your seat, all day, immersed fully in the experience, then go home, sleep, immersed fully in your blankets (unless it's hot). You'll make bets on the future if you feel like it, but that's hardly going to be what consumes your thoughts- the drive to the race, the race, and the drive home from the race are far too exciting to be worried over what will happen tomorrow.
But, but, but, people argue- the 2000 Catalan motorcycle Grand Prix was only one round! You've got to consider the whole picture if you want to enjoy it fully. Not to mention make sure you have tickets for every race, good seats, snacks, and the full backstory of every rider. If you just show up you'll be lucky if you make one round.
What about life plans? What about careers? What about choosing a major for school or deciding whether you should stick with the stressful job in order to get the promotion to the job you've wanted all along? These are all decisions which pertain to the future. Decisions where you assess your goals, your knowledge of yourself and the world, and make your best guess for how to get what you want in the most painless and expedient way possible.
Look to the riders. We can assume that they are pretty damned present as they ride their bikes, and I'm going to guess, just guess, that the winners are the ones who prepare most efficiently without worrying too heavily. They tune up their bikes, stretch their muscles, drink their water, and get a full night's sleep. They prepared, but they remain present. Am I presuming? Yes. I have no evidence whatsoever to support this. But I'll bet, statistically, that I'm right.
You can live in the moment and make plans. But they aren't plans, they are movements. The plan of a mindful person is an action. "I like to know things," she thinks, and she sits down to open a book. "I like to win," he says, and he double checks the connections on his bike. "I like the sciences," she says, and she registers for a college course in mathematics. And when his wife comes in with hot cocoa, he sets down his wrench and he drinks it with her, because he loves his wife, and he loves his cocoa.
Am I idealistic? Yes. But let's start with the beautiful extremes, find the flaws, and then back it up a bit into a delightful, functional life philosophy. We could do this with social and political structures as well, and it has been done- but that's a subject for another day.
I invite your comments on this. Tell me where the holes are, and I'll see about filling them up.
Monday, May 18, 2009
River Kym (wikipedia)
"The River Kym is a river in Cambridgeshire, England. It flows through the village of Tilbrook, to Kimbolton, and joins the Great Ouse at St Neots."
Are you feeling lonely? Confused? Spiritually dry? Turn to Wikipedia for unlikely but full-hearted support.
I've never seen a lonely river. The clatter of water against rocks and branches, the ten thousand drops flying into the air and caressing the surface of the water as the fall back down in that infinite cycle. Excitement, enthusiasm, peace, poise- these are the qualities which make up a river. It's just one river, but it's never alone for its component pieces and for the millions of life-forms it supports and nourishes by its very existence.
I've never seen a confused river, either. Rivers are directed, focused. They follow the path of least resistance, allowing the pull of gravity to shape their riverbeds and to temper their flow. If two paths seem equal, there is no hesitance, no indecision- the decision is made be reality, in that moment. Sometimes the river will split for a time, creating two different, equally zen flows, or the physics of the situation will become apparent and the river will continue along one path.
It splits, and it merges, it becomes part of greater rivers, it joins the ocean, and never is it more or less lonely, for it isn't lonely at all. It is rich, and solid in its ambiguity, it is eternal in its impermanence, each moment it is different, yet each moment links perfectly and seamlessly to the next.
Some rivers pass through villages- they are witnessed, appreciated, and played in by people. Others spend their whole existence amidst nature, more quietly supportive of the earth. These rivers each exist in precisely the way reality is set-up, they do not argue with it, they do not wish for change-- change is everpresent, and as perfect as could be asked for.
I don't want to slap a quiet pond here, so I'm not going to go on much further. Try considering this in context with your own life, though. Each moment, you make the decision which best fits who you are and what reality is presenting to you at the moment. There's never cause for regret, because your choices have always been the right choices for that moment. New choices will be made in the future, also according to your everchanging nature, and everchanging reality.
Your existence is rich, and dependent on nothing. You are a force of nature as much as anything, powerful, unstoppable, unpredictable, and beautiful. And yet you are steady and pure, and help shape the beautiful organization of reality.
I'll let you go on from here.
(p.s. I'm not saying anything about the Great Ouse.)
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