Harbinger of Nothing in Particular

"To be an artist is not a matter of making paintings or objects at all. What we are really dealing with is our state of consciousness and the shape of our perception. The act of art is a tool for extended consciousness..." --Robert Irwin

I seem to be on some kind of all-work sabbatical. Not a dull girl at all, but I'm picking expectations off me like ticks. Toiling with my mind and not getting my hands dirty is frustrating - especially when I set my sights on some particular subtle outcome involving a "feeling" about the results of these hours of concentration. What a hair-shirt!

When I gather knowledge it makes me happy to soak it up greedily, for it never seems like a bad thing at the time. My penchant for excitement and drama strips from it any idealistic appeal. I'm a realist at heart. I know that a generalist like me can never hope to approach perfection in any one thing. Not anything that can be demonstrated or that comes with a piece of parchment that proves mastery. I am condemned to an almost exclusively subjective inner experience. And this is what I attempt to record here.

I don't want anything from you. I'm not trying to be funny. I don't have anything to sell you. I do not have the latest breaking news on stocks, stars or technology. There is no-thing, no trick I can try to offer here that isn't duplicated around this web-world in a thousand other ways (nicer looking, better prose, more effective allusions/metaphors and more lofty conclusions).

My hands are empty and I love this feeling at this time of year. I am not Christian, but I celebrate Christmas. Not for the birth of a son of God, but for the rebirth of the light of Spiritus Mundi. Every year when darkness falls it seems a poignant commentary on something in my life and everything around me! It is indeed darkest before the dawn. I find it lovely how the dawn occurs each year whether one is in need of a rebirth of faith in one's life or not. The allegory is not lost on me (just the literal facts).

I am entertained by the way that I can see beauty all around me and not be able to express it to my satisfaction. I love that I find some people's soul so beautiful it pains me... and how I say nothing about it to them or of them. I like the secret. I like the juiciness of that one clear connection that remains unsaid. It is a fully actualized thought that neither whores itself, nor hides itself like a hermit. It's not up to me to draw conclusions, but to let these thoughts fly, unencumbered by judgment.

I'm writing this for me in the way I would trace my name into the sand at East Beach. I heart me. I heart this spicy existence and this imperfect blog. I heart the way I love the darkness of a mind in turmoil, an ordinary day full of ordinary experiences, and the way my reaction to events irks me to craziness. I heart the way I burn bridges, the ruthless way I reject. I heart my unfinished projects (and my ridiculous lust for world domination). And the effort it takes to hit publish. It's not that deep, not that exciting. It's not for anyone's pleasure, this secret post. But that is at the heart of creation: faith in the process.

In each human heart terror survives
The ravin it has gorged: the loftiest fear
All that they would disdain to think were true:
Hypocrisy and custom make their minds
The fanes of many a worship, now outworn.
They dare not devise good for man's estate,
And yet they know not that they do not dare.
~from Percy Bysshe Shelley's Prometheus Unbound

I am Blue Sky

"Your own mind is a sacred enclosure into which nothing harmful can enter except by your permission."

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I read once, in some spiritually based article about psychology, that our thoughts are clouds over the clear blue sky that is our true inner "self". I like that metaphor. I imagine the constant stream of critical, dark thoughts that arise out of insecurity about our performance, social convention, and self worth swirling ominously around fluffy white pockets of joy.

I often spend the day pummeling my mind with an array of perceived deficiencies which, in turn, make my daily tasks more difficult, prone to misinterpretation and error as they sift through a cluttered web of chemtrails made with half baked intentions and fragmented inspirations.

When I imagine the ever-present storms that my thoughts must create around me, I am struck how my every-day personality must be nearly wholly made up of swirling masses of perceptions, reactions and judgements. I am like the planet Jupiter, made almost entirely of dense thoughts that obscure my elemental core. The world seems too much with me and in reality never touches me at all.

There was a time in my life, from early childhood up until about aged 13 that I lived almost wholly in my imagination. I read fiction voraciously from the time I was seven years old and pulled from these books the characters, settings and plots that were as real to me as any object in the tangible world around me. It may have been caused by unusual amount of solitude I experienced through the ages of five 'till nine.

I can still conjure up, twenty-something years later these familiar vignettes:

• I am a ballooning spiderling, on a veil and a prayer.
• A marooned aviatrix pushing through the boundless Congo jungle.
• I am Nimuë, turning an already swallowed poison into a harmless sweet syrup.
• I am a princess of Amber traveling to Tir-na Nóg'th, Frakir tightened about my wrist.
• I am a Priestess of Avalon, white hand moving swiftly to hide runes in a velvet bag.
• A Bene Gesserit who walks gracefully, yet without rhythm, so not to attract the sandworm.
• I am the only one the Commander trusts to return the stolen microfiche.
• The only one the Black Stallion will let ride.
• The only one who can hear the ghost of the murdered girl howling for revenge.
• The only one who repair the last rocket's engine.

I had a dragon who grew in real time after appearing in my room at age 7, and leaving me to wander off to explore the world after he and I were fully grown. (Julian found me when he was about the size of a German Shepherd and flew off to seek his fortune when he was about the size of a school bus.)

I had fairies and angels that followed me around murmuring inappropriate jokes at inopportune times or giggling and chanting when I was trying to fall asleep. Small creatures that seemingly had no purpose (and no social skills) vied for my attention. And then there were the glowing orbs of light that would swirl around the room as I lay calm and trance-like, sleepless in that endless darkness of a child's experience of night.

All these things faded away over time. Perhaps they were poisoned by my adolescent mind as the attractions of the outer world eclipsed the enchantments of the inner. I remember these things with a smile, shaking my head with relief that I never gave anyone a reason to examine my mental health. Though now as my self actualization develops I am drawn again inward to the pursuits of my imagination. My fantasies are now based on real people and events. A motley group of desires -- writing a book on tropical isle, a pair of boots certain to possess magical powers, something shiny, a gentle soul reaching out, a force as strong as it is kind.

We are stuck between the need for security and a longing for adventure, seeking out entertainment that provides a safe glimpse into a fascinating parallel world. Enjoying a story that plays on the big screen on merely in the mind.

Weapons of Mass Creation

"Our loyalties are to the species and to the planet. We speak for earth. Our obligation to survive and flourish is owed not just to ourselves but also to that cosmos ancient and vast from which we spring!

We are one species!

We are star stuff harvesting starlight!"

~Carl Sagan~

For your consideration... Zeitgeist: Addendum, by Peter Joseph 2008

Or see it here

Waxing Poetic

The Moon,
Like a half-eaten baked brie,
hangs yellow and dripping,
just above the edge of the horizon.

~VCreatrix

Resistance: It's Futile

A a few weeks ago I lay enjoying THE nicest aromatherapy hot stone massage at a local working Lavender Farm. I was intending to relax, but my brain was still tallying and sorting. I may just have been beginning to compose another blog entry about the nature of consciousness and creativity, but I was there to rest, revitalize and clear my mind. My thoughts slowed but did not stop entirely. I remember vaguely contemplating the installation of a couple of volume sliders into my body. One for "thinking" and one for "feeling", and that got me to thinking about resistance...

I tried to focus on my breathing -- trained my awareness on the ebb and flow of the wave of sublimely scented air in the room. This went extremely well for about 1.4 seconds. Did my mind seem louder because my surroundings were quiet, or did it see this as an opportunity to step onto centre stage? When I watch a terrific movie, I lose myself in the show, suspend my disbelief, and "live" in the story for most of the duration of the show. Why is it that so difficult to "check out" and leave my thoughts behind to lose myself in the intensity of the feelings of relaxation?

One of the problems might just be that darned amphibian brain of ours. The one that is constantly aware of impending dangers, searches out symbols for possible threats and reacts. Self preservation depends on the speed of these connections, calculations and reaction. In 1960, Karl Pribram described the basics of motivation as the four "Fs": Feeding, Fighting, Fleeing and Reproduction.

Perhaps intensity is the key. Stimulation junkies that we modern folks are, need to get pretty riled up before their thoughts turn off. (I can think of only a few activities that can generate this effect.)

Stepping out of your regular routine, out of the ordinary, out of your comfort zone... and sometimes even into a zone of total comfort all help keep thoughts in a healthy sphere. Unless of course, you begin to obsess about about your level of performance in a new activity, or have added far too many new things to your old routine without letting something go...

Often, as we work, we ponder vacation. On vacation we can't help worry somewhat about our responsibilities back home. We resist the present moment in favour of thoughts of the future or the past.

A holiday to Shuswap Lake last week had me winding down, but not before cranking up the heat. I had repacked my things into a larger bag at the last minute and neglected a side pocket of unmentionables and my carefully chosen bathing suits. We arrived as the afternoon heat peaked and I rushed to change into my bikini... which was of course back in the bag left at home. I ached with regret and annoyance -- felt not a stoic acceptance of the predicament, but a strong dissatisfaction with it. Ok, I experienced some serious resistance to my immediate situation. I must admit to over-indulging in self pity before settling on the ad hoc solution of grabbing a $10 suit of the rack at Field's at 5 minutes to closing. It looked like a shower curtain from a cheap hotel, (oops there's resistance again) but at least I could take a flying leap into the lake.

I had intended to initiate a more exhaustive search for a better suit the following day; but strangely, the lake beckoned more strongly. Lying on the bow of the boat several hours later, finally allowing myself to unwind and enjoy the pure joy of warm summer breezes, I marveled at how the water sparkled and the clouds drifted and that felt wonderful.

If this was a movie there would follow an inspiring montage (to the music of "I can see clearly now the rain is gone...") Syrupy scenes of Moi, learning to let go... A series of tableaus, would show me struggling awkwardly in a frustrating circumstance before turning my frown upside down after a moment of inspiration and twinkle in my eye. My family and friends would gently remind me and I would not bite off their heads... no, instead I would shug my shoulders and nod knowingly... then we would all laugh out loud like at the end of a kids cartoon.

[Attention idealists: Finish Article Here]

But back at homestead, I'm sitting in a pile of dirty laundry and a long list of "to dos" I'm feeling the tension again. I may have made a sarcastic comment or two about having to do all the dirty work myself. There were most probably several sighs and clicks of the tongue followed by some procrastination and avoidance manefesting as strong desire to first "catch up on news and events" (aka..Brangelina's twins and Facebook).

Sure, it's human nature to focus on what could be rather than what is, but it makes about as much sense as complaining about how gravity keeps pulling everything to the ground. Resistance, yep.

For more advice about avoiding resistance while obeying the laws of physics read: Time Shifting vs Time Management--Stephan Rechtschaffen

Mustard seeds

The messages are all around me. This morning as I dumped Hazelnut Hemp Heaven granola into some yogurt, I spied a flash of yellow from inside the bag. Stuck on the reverse of the label of the clear packaging was a secret note (left just for me by the Granola King) -- only now becoming visible as the contents are emptied out.

It said, "If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them." ~ Henry David Thoreau

So much of life is gazing at castles in the sky (your own as well as other people's) and feeling a certain degree of discomfort at their elusive beauty. Sometimes the view is further obscured by the foggy sensation of longing and a certain blind devotion to wanting. And then the "reality" of responsibility kicks in. Positive messages are being whispered all around if you care to quieten down those "realistic" anxieties and pay attention, but it turns out that it is particularly difficult for women to free themselves from these emotions.

"...There's an area of your brain that's assigned the task of negative thinking," says Louann Brizendine, MD, a neuropsychiatrist at the University of California, San Francisco, and the author of The Female Brain. "It's judgmental. It says 'I'm too fat' or 'I'm too old.' It's a barometer of every social interaction you have. It goes on red alert when the feedback you're getting from other people isn't going well." This worrywart part of the brain is the anterior cingulate cortex. In women, it's actually larger and more influential, as is the brain circuitry for observing emotions in others. "The reason we think females have more emotional sensitivity," says Brizendine, "is that we've been built to be immediately responsive to the needs of a nonverbal infant. That can be both a good thing and a bad thing."

I've practiced daily mindfulness for a number of years, but find that the egoic, material obsessed mind possesses a vortex-like undertow that I am still constantly drifting back towards. I know am not alone, as there are always several bestselling books that give advice on how to manage these kinds of thoughts and feelings. But I have discovered that there are others who are searching for the method to living a fully actualized life and that some are leaving articles of faith in ordinary places for others to find.

This morning the medium is also the message. Someone thought to place this note in the packaging to inspire others. Naturally, there had to have been a series of small-scale decisions involved in making this possible; but this too, began as a delicate, airy castle in the sky that someone chose to allow themselves to bestow a foundation upon. Perhaps he was inspired by a similar icon planted by someone else.

The castle is easy to create. The foundation appears as the result of certain degree of faith and plenty of good 'ol sweat. There is a choice that needs to be made directly after conceiving that castle. Let yourself believe.

I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, "Move from here to there" and it will move.
~ The Bible, Matthew 17:20

Waging Peace and Love

What if we taught children to care more about people than about things?

In the west, we do not often practice what we preach on those colourful posters in our children's classrooms. We share when we feel like it -- when it benefits our image or creates a positive buzz; when we have extra we don't really need anyway. We respect others... of similar socioeconomic background or higher. We give up playing fair when a ridiculous profit can be made. We create waste; buy things with hideous packaging and and throw things away we are bored with.

As children grow older they can't help but follow this course. No one wants to get into trouble. No one wants to lose out to others scrambling for supremacy. To not chase the trophy is to roll over and bare your neck to the wolves. The tribe does not respect stragglers and even justifies it if they are lost. We cannot afford to show weakness.

While it is natural to value the best performers, our winners, we do not consider ruthlessness a fault. Look at how we turn our heads to athletes using performance enhancing drugs. Leveling the playing field these days means giving them all drugs! But we talk the talk... we say what we wish were true (and behave to protect our immediate interests). We say that we try. We try soooo hard, it's just that we really need the money right now.

It has become increasingly clear that it is acceptable to step over others to reach the top, for the end usually justifies the means , we are accountable to the shareholders, the institution, our pocketbook, or the faceless company: an entity with a thousand faces and no heart.

Power is corrupting. But what is it? The ability to control others? To purchase any item one desires? To have others look at you and want what you have? To prove that you have more value than others, to prove someone else wrong... We know that we cannot go on like this, that we are polluting our environment and our souls.

What if instead of teaching children to look up at the stars, "aim high and don't look back", we taught them to look down? Look and see the long line of children of the earth holding hands and traveling along... What if we taught them that the most important thing was to look back and make sure everyone was ok.

* * *

I am angry and upset today. It is my birthday tomorrow and I really wanted to have my patio done but it's been delayed. I want it. I've worked hard for it. I deserve it... And then I watched a couple of videos made by care Canada and I felt deeply embarrassed. My rant has been a directed at myself. Forgive me. You are not the problem, I am. And I will change. Right now.

I'm seeing people that need some help. I think we should start with some of the poorest women. Women, says Care Canada are the developing world's most valuable, and most untapped, natural resource.

Why should we focus on women in the developing world? Educate a woman, and you educate her community. For each extra year of school a girl undertakes, her family income increases up to 20%? Did you know that two-thirds of the people in the world considered "illiterate" are girls and women? (from the Care Canada website)

These videos made by Care Canada will inspire you:




Beautiful.




Amazing.

An oldie but a goodie:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”~ Marianne Williamson

The Bear went over the Mountain -- A Poem

i)
Stretched taut or raveled skein
(darkness or rain)
When I need to appear larger
I look into you

My machinations echo
In your Valhalla Halls
Where stillness aches
A quiet while

Your pontoons a panacea
Upon my body of water
(Lake of Raging Hormones)
I sink like Atlantis

Your apparatus keeps me limber
Your nonchalance a cup
To hold my unfinished dreams
(Or lay them in the sun to dry)

ii)
Like a shadow
Across the floor
Your body's warmth
A bearskin rug before the fire

I burn I burn
I stumble and carouse
I summon demons
And crinkle my nose

Without looking up
(Or losing your place)
An arm snaps out to grip my belt
As I stand sighing at the precipice

You don't click your tongue at me
Or warn, "come away from the edge!"
My dampness soaks through everything
But you never shiver

~Vanessa Turke

Per se, Per se

"I am an artist"

"Like for work?... Like for money?"

It's usually not an adequate description on it's own. The question was, "What do you do?" Not, "How do you pay the bills?" Frankly, I can't decide which is more personal. What I do is not who I am, although the real question was most probably, "Who are you and are you worth getting acquainted with...?"

In the spirit of the question, the answer is perfect (and of course I am worth talking to!) The answer is not only true, tells the questioner something important about me, but furthers the conversation as well. People generally go one of two direction with this information. The way of the income or the way of the subject. Do I paint kitties on velvet? And if this earns me my daily bread -- If painting kitties keeps baby in shoes... well then I must be a reasonably worthy artist or at least pretty good at marketing myself. But alas, I do not paint kitties. A more accurate description of "what I do" on a day to day basis could be: loose sunglasses, eat yams, vacuum lint, Google things, watch squirrels run across the fence, along with countless, varied sundry acts of care and cleanliness... and creation.

Our understanding and appreciation of art can limit this creation at times. Most of us can't produce photo accurate renderings of people, places and things -- and this in itself isn't art (ah, but that's another opinion piece). But that we judge this fact as lack of artistic ability should be a sin. So many people create wherever they go, in their homes, vocations and in their relationships.

I play, I create. What I create is very personal to me. I am pleased if others like what I do, but I do not need them to. I still have an underlying belief that I require the odd purchase of those fruits of my creativity... so I run the razors edge of passion vs. production. I believe that there is bit of an artist in everyone. Just as we all have some "healer", "teacher" and "leader" in us. Not everyone chooses to produce pieces of art, but if we look around, we can see compelling personal expression everywhere. The choice to accept it as "creative" is personal, very much subjective -- and a true leap of acceptance and faith. We put up roadblocks for ourselves; want excellence in order to be beyond reproach. We value something new, different, special -- unique. To me, "creator" is a life path for which I am truly grateful. It is my ultimate joy. But I still put up roadblocks for myself daily. Tearing them down is the only way to make the inspiration flow.

My questioners usually want to know about the end product, but it is when they ask about process that I am captured. Sometimes they want to know about technique or materials. But it's a far more challenging task to describes the trajectory of one's creative thoughts. What is my inspiration? Everything! Everything! (more detailed Blog entry to come) How exactly does an inspiration seed an idea?

Where do ideas come from? The brain? The soul? Perhaps from the great collective unconsciousness -- Spiritus Mundi. Many artists believe that they are only vessels for creation. "The position of the artist is humble. He is essentially a channel," says Piet Mondrian. It is an old teaching. "Creation is only the projection into form of that which already exits," ~ Srimad Bhagavatam. What is now being explored by scientists is whether natural talent exists at all!

"Traditional conceptions of giftedness assume that only talented individuals possess the necessary gifts required to reach the highest levels of performance. [Studies present] an alternative view that expert performance results from acquired cognitive and physiological adaptations due to extended deliberate practice. A review of evidence, such as historical increases in performance, the requirement of years of daily deliberate practice, and structural changes in the mediating mechanisms, questions the existence of individual differences that impose innate limits on performance attainable with deliberate practice. The proposed framework describes how the processes mediating normal development of ability and everyday skill acquisition differ from the extended acquisition of reproducibly superior (expert) performance and how perceived “giftedness” gives children access to superior training resources, resulting in developmental advantages." ~K. Anders Ericsson, Kiruthiga Nandagopal, & Roy W. Roring

Ericsson and Ward have used techniques like this to compare thousands of experts with novices in fields from music, sports, medicine and law enforcement. They've found no evidence that experts are born with any more natural "talent" than other people. "We have yet to find any compelling evidence that any talent matters," says Ericsson.

What matters then is that you practice your art, do what you love and do it often. Practice compassion, do not judge the outcome, and encourage others. What's so great about being bigger, better or more special anyway? It's exactly this kind of separatist, elitist thinking that encourages the competitive and irresponsible practices that are damaging our planet. We will soon have to come up with some very creative solutions for our troubled world. As Einstein says, "We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them." So let's all stop worrying if we can draw straight lines and start creating positive change!

Isn't it just though?

In light of recent events, I've been hearing a lot of comments about the weather. Mostly bad stuff. I think this is mainly because there is no one to appeal to directly for change and but also because there is a certain ingrained tribal behavior involved with complaining and group commiseration. So, while it is a completely just complaint, it is also totally futile... and apparently unhealthy for us as well. (Yep, add it to the list )

Studies have indicated that getting together and complaining to each other about our afflictions and sufferings can lead to depression and anxiety.

"For girls, co-rumination predicted increased positive friendship quality, including feelings of closeness between friends. However, the study also found that girls who co-ruminate had increased depressive and anxiety symptoms, which in turn, contributed to greater co-rumination."

So who knew that co-rumination was so damaging?

A Complaint Free World is a movement started by Pastor Will Bowen. Over 6 million people in more than 80 countries have taken his Complaint Free challenge by wearing purple bracelets to remind themselves to quit whingeing. In his book he explains how forming the simple habit of not complaining can transform your health, relationships, career and life.

There are a lot of resources out there to help you cut back on your complaining... I like the cool practicality of Eckhart Tolle:

“Complaining is not to be confused with informing someone of a mistake or deficiency so that it can be put right. And to refrain from complaining doesn’t necessarily mean putting up with bad quality or behavior. There is no ego in telling the waiter your soup is cold and needs to be heated up—if you stick to the facts, which are always neutral. ‘How dare you serve me cold soup…?’ That’s complaining.”—Eckhart Tolle, “A New Earth

Or simply..

"If you don't like something change it.
If you can't change it, change your attitude.
Don't complain."
—Maya Angelou

June -- the Fairest Daughter of the Year

I was feeling a little melancholic these first days of June, and it wasn't just the weather. I was thinking about Brigitte.

In June 2006 I spent an afternoon by the side of a terminally ill friend just days before she passed away. She hadn't told everyone that her disease was back. I think that she must have been trying to protect some of us, or perhaps couldn't bear to see our reaction. Looking back, there must have been times where she hinted at it, but I guess I wasn't really paying close enough attention. It hadn't fully hit me before I was flying out to Toronto on a red-eye -- arriving very early to a warm and misty spring morning.

It was a Sunday, so the usual Toronto traffic was subdued. I remember walking solemnly out of the airport to catch the public bus to Brigitte's neighborhood. I was told that she would be her best around 10am, so there was some time to pass. Every moment seemed at once surreal and hyper-real. I walked slowly, but the world sped by. The promise of summer was apparent in trees lining the parkway, the potted plants on the steps of the lovely brick houses and even in the air, thick with a soft humidity. It did not seem possible that it could also be a time for endings.

This year marks five years since I was treated for breast cancer. I don't know if I'll ever get it again, but so far the most difficult part for me was watching some of the women I got to know through cancer "events" become sicker and sometimes die. I have felt that there must be something I can do in my own life make up for the promise of theirs, and although I now understand this sentiment as a type of survivors guilt, I still feel like I should live in a way that shows that I appreciate the value of my life.

Cancer had been a trump card for me. I felt that because I'd experienced something "life threatening" I was free to experience life more fully. But mostly I was just in more in a hurry that ever. The destination kept changing. I had been reminded of the final outcome and wondered what could be accomplished before that?

That spring day was a most memorable life altering day -- precious, awkward, painful and peaceful... I remember trying to burn every bit of it into my memory, be present for every second. I remember the sensation of warm patio wood under my feet, the view of the city from the balcony, the sweet fruit flan we barely picked at, tea we sipped and the intense emotion. We spoke casually of little things and then I had some private moments to ask Brigitte candidly about her beliefs and feelings knowing she would be honest with me. I hoped that she would have some wise words for me (and she did, but I didn't hear them for a long time). The conversation left me with even more questions. But I resolved to live my questions as the poet Rainer Maria Rilke suggested. And bit by bit I am beginning to experience my answers.

Afterwards, "Survivorship" lost the intensity of the loud battle cry it once had for me. The idea of living a life fully actualized from moment to moment came into my head. I think it had been seeded by Brigitte. She had been studying to be a yoga instructor during her last year of life.

It's natural to look for meaning in all things. It's natural to have goals. It's preferable to me to be ambitious and driven -- even ruthlessly intent on those dreams. But it's been two years since Brigitte died, and I've changed since then. The experience left me with a radically different outlook on life not only because Brigitte and I had so much in common, but also because of something she said once. “... that we need to appreciate living in the moment and that what is most important in our life are love, friends, family and our health. Our everyday worries and concerns are so small compared to the gift of life and love”.

“Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day." from Letters to a Young Poet, Rainer Maria Rilke

Stealing Home -- A poem

Fish or cut bait,
Push in; Frak fate,
Duck and weave,
Stay or leave,
Decide your lot,
Get off the pot.

Become up sought,
Show up, stay up,
Anti-up, push up,
Crack up, make up,
Fill 'er up, rev 'er up,
Run hot -- don't get caught!

Keep your story straight,
Stay up late,
Stoke the fire within,
Jump in!

"Love doesn't make things nice. It ruins everything. It breaks your heart. It makes things a mess. We aren't here to make things perfect. Snowflakes are perfect. Stars are perfect. Not us, not us. We are here to ruin ourselves, and to break our hearts, and love the wrong people, and die." (~Lonnie to Loretta in Moonstruck)

Modern Omens and Personal Prophesy

Despite my thirty years of research into the feminine soul, I have not been able to answer... the great question that has never been answered: what does a woman want? ~ Sigmund Freud

Well, shoes for one... The acquisition of a single new pair of fabulous shoes can change the course of a day. This can seem fairly ridiculous until you swap the shoes for something that has strong personal meaning for you. Whatever you subconsciously assign with the power to affect your mood and therefore your actions, is profoundly sacred.

We all have a personal mythology that makes certain beasts, objects and archetypes special to us. When we are young they can be favorite animals, colours or symbols (Rainbows and Unicorns baby!) Certain items and particular ways of doing things continue to be inexplicably more special and therefore more "powerful" for us. Collectors fill their houses with statuettes on a theme because it makes them happy. Is a sports fanatic so different from a pot-bellied pig fancier? Athletes have intricate rituals that the believe help them play better. Artist's have elaborate routines to get them into the creative zone. So how does this practice go from perceived as being a cute game, to vaguely superstitious crutch to problem obsession? I've created a chart...


Cute

• Having to have the right game piece (shoe, top hat, race car, etc.)
• Drawing endless lightning bolts or swirly vines.
• Eating the M&Ms in a certain order.
• Walking around particular cracks on the sidewalk.
• Playing a special song before a date.
• Wearing underwear with a slightly more powerful blend of cotton.

Superstitious

• Wearing the special underwear for a first date.
• Playing a special song before a job interview.
• Locking the doors and windows in a particular order.
• Playing the same loto numbers every week

Obsessive

• Eating the green M&Ms to ward off alien attack.
• Wearing the special underwear everyday for its magical protective powers.
• Playing the magic song 24 hours a day.
• Checking the locks, rechecking the locks, rechecking the locks...

In our modern world, we can giggle at these above and assume that practices such as the avoidance of inauspicious days and believing in illnesses caused by transgressions against taboos can be signs of mental illness. Perhaps they are merely a revival of the most ancient mystery religions which urged practitioners to "know thyself". The Ancient Roman's themselves employed two distinct types of professional omen readers. Augurs interpreted the flights of birds, while haruspices employed animal sacrifice to obtain the entrails necessary for divination -- and these people had running water and toilets for goodness sake!

A subtle personal mythology perceived with a grain of salt can be a comforting way to navigating the daily stressors and pitfalls of modern life... (or to inspire a new decorating theme) Believers say that the resistance a modern mind puts up to these ideas is merely interference from the rational egoic mind; and that these blocks must be pulled down to enhance the ability to truly channel higher wisdom in relation to future events. Divination then becomes a means of gaining self-knowledge and a deeper understanding of the hidden causes behind appearances. And a very creative way to influence your future.

What are you obsessing about today?

Utopia is Drupal

And once again in English...

Utopian society is often characterized as egalitarian distribution of goods in a society that is striving toward perfection. Citizens work on pursuits that are both enjoyable and contribute to the common good. This ideally leaves the citizens with more time for the cultivation arts, culture and sciences (and of course, Facebook).

Drupal?

Drupal is a free, open source content management system that allows an individual or a community of users to easily publish, manage and organize a wide variety of content on a website. With it you can build a powerful, flexible website with a feature-rich, database-driven site with little knowledge of programming.

Last weekend I attended Drupal Camp Vancouver (dcv08); on purpose. I say this because I was hesitant, afraid there might be a skill testing question at the door. Classified as a neophyte because I'm still unclear about what a "node" is. I mostly don't get the in-jokes even though I really dig Darth Vader. But I'm drawn to this community.

Originally written by Belgian student Dries Buytaert as a bulletin board system, Drupal became an open source project in 2001. The purpose was to enable others to use and extend the experimentation platform so that more people could explore new paths for development. Web development companies use this system free of charge and then contribute new modules for future users. It is getting so popular that BusinessWeek included Dries on their list of top 30-and-under innovators for 2008. The curious name came about when Dries made a typo trying to aquire Dorp.org (Dorp is the Dutch word for 'village') The name Drupal, pronounced "droo-puhl," derives from the English pronunciation of the Dutch word "druppel," which means "drop."Drupal has a worldwide community made up of of users and developers. All you have to do is believe... I've been marveling for days at what a nice group of folks I met at the Vancouver Drupal Camp. I was particularly impressed at the community spirit and great sense of "togetherness" that was apparent throughout. Competing web development companies came together and shared.

"Open-source communities work best when its members jump in and help out..." says the Drupal Community website, "Please contribute your knowledge back to the community... edit existing handbook pages -- to fix typos, to clarify confusing sentences, or to move pages around in the hierarchy support the Drupal project, even if you are a beginner. In fact, beginners have a distinct advantage over the experts, because they can more easily spot the places where documentation is lacking...Even the most gifted Drupal developers were new once, and chances are someone has helped you at some point along the way. "

Wow. Now I really feel welcome. No longer trying to hide the awkward incompetently incompetent stage that I'm in... I'm actually feeling wanted... participating in discussions and winning door prizes... warm fuzzies... good sandwiches... mmm.

In fact, at the end of a long day full of informative and challenging sessions, many of these good people volunteered their time to help build out the Fearless City website -- a project to facilitate community participation in the creation of media and community dialogue on issues relevant to people in the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver.

Clearing your plate while shopping for dinner

In the wake of recent events, and as a global citizen, it was necessary that I eventually bring up the triad of dairy department scourges; light cheese, past date whipped cream and yogurt made with sugar substitute. All of these things are occasionally brought home by mistake if one is not paying attention. But the true question is: where is our attention wandering off to anyway? Most likely floating around in a mental list of "to dos" and "should ofs".

Because it is human nature to keep loop of ones achievements, afflictions and sufferings running through one's mind at all times, it's a nice exercise (if not an utter relief) to step back from your chattering mind for a short time. Make friends with the red light -- you're going to have to sit there anyway. Use those few moments to breathe deeply and let your body relax into the seat.

Deepak Chopra says that we have 50-60,000 thoughts a day and that 90% of them are negative. I don't know how "they" measured this, but it does seem likely that a great majority of these thoughts are connected to the pressure we put on ourselves to have a "productive day". Daily errands are a great way to practice mindfulness on the go and give your soul a break from all that drama and judgment thrust upon it.

One rather entertaining way is to shop like you're from another planet. It doesn't take any longer than usual to examine the texture of the radicchio before you buy it, or make a pact to smile widely at every person you make eye contact with. Move swiftly through the store but open up your peripheral vision and notice the colours around you. Try not to mentally name what you see, but simply let it pass by and acknowledge the life and vitality bustling all around you.

Don't wait for it; this is life and it's a miracle.

***

Empty your mind of all thoughts.
Let your heart be at peace.
Watch the turmoil of beings,
but contemplate their return.

Each separate being in the universe
returns to the common source.
Returning to the source is serenity.

~ from the 16th verse of the Tao Te Ching

Green tea and Inspiration

I had tea with the truly lovely Dr. Sherri Magee at South Granville's T Tasting Boutique. It was a treat to visit with her as I greatly admire Dr. Sherri's amazing work helping cancer survivors with the emotional recovery process port treatment.

"Many survivors speak of feeling fragmented and needing to pick up the pieces of their lives once treatment for cancer is finished. Exhausted, overwhelmed with fears of recurrence, struggling to manage the side effects of treatment, and trying to make sense of the experience, survivors feel as if they have been ‘dropped into a void’, unsure of how to navigate through the recovery process. While the focus of treatment is on eliminating the disease, the recovery phase is centered upon healing the whole person. But no guideline exists for how to make it through this period, there is no bridge from hospital to home."


Dr. Sherri does a workshop that helps cancer survivors move from this fragmentation towards living the life they want to live. She is also the co-author of the book Picking Up the Pieces: Moving Forward After Surviving Cancer. Recommended reading for anyone who is finishing cancer treatment and on their way to a "new normal".




I brought Dr. Sherri one of my recent pieces from the "Texture and Variations" series that she had spotted on the Studio V Open House invite last December. The artwork is created from salvaged and recycled wood discarded at building sites and so it has that nice ancient treasure/modern relic look that I love. As I sipped the aromatic Pear Tree Green tea blend and conversed, I felt that I was experiencing a very serendipitous meeting indeed.

***

"In my own hands I hold a bowl of tea; I see all of nature represented in its green color.
Closing my eyes, I find green mountains and pure water within my own heart.
Silently, sitting alone, drinking tea, I can feel these become part of me.
Sharing this bowl of tea with others, they too, become one with it and with nature.
That we can find a lasting tranquility in our own selves in company with each other is the paradox that is the Way of Tea."

"The frenzied world and our myriad dilemmas leave our bodies and minds exhausted. It is then that we seek out a place where we can have a moment of peace and tranquility. In the discipline of Chado such a place can be found. The four principals of harmony, respect, purity, and tranquility, codified almost four hundred years ago, are timeless guides to the practice of Chado. Incorporating them into daily life helps one to find that unassailable place of tranquility that is within each of us."

Soshitsu Sen
Urasenke Grand Tea Master XV
From Urasenke Tradition of Tea

Sweet Surrender or "The Mutant Squirrel started it"

Blogging was not something I was aspiring to.

To whom would I be addressing these "posts" anyway? I am generally not a "sharer". I don't have very many close friendships. I do write cryptic, stream-of-consciousness poetry that would probably be considered quite mediocre... unless perhaps it was discovered to be composed by some underground beatnik revolutionary. Or maybe a trendy modern starlet, "Who knew she was this DEEP?"

Last year Thor showed me an article that argued how Google searches, blogs and community websites are ways that we are letting ourselves be tracked by powerful conglomerates/illuminati that want to sell us stuff and/or restrict our freedom to buy stuff... or something. It sounded bad. But then I thought about how I always agree to answering telemarketing/research companies questions; in part so that they will actually find out what really is important to some of us. Maybe they will eventually stop over packaging over-rated useless things (bought any kids TOYS lately?)

But I digress. It is Earth Day.

So back to the squirrel.

About a week ago I was looking longingly into the back 40 when along the fence came a-hopping, a squirrel that seemed vaguely familiar except for the fact that he was half-NAKED. I mean that he was top-less -- fur-less in his upper squirrelitudes to be exact. My jar dropped and my brow furrowed. And I wondered... the usual wherefore and how tos. And then I realized that short of canvassing the neighborhood with the sad mutant squirrel story, I would never know exactly what had happened to him. I can surmise that he may have been carried gently to a local veterinarian after a serious pet attack, Fido's owner feeling guilty enough to have Squirrel patched up and released back into the 'hood.

But the point of the tail, er... tale, is merely this; funny, weird, little things happen and big important things happen every day. What we experience daily and what we hear on the news all add up to life on earth. All these stories deserve to be told in one way or another. Why not muse into cyberspace about the juxtaposition of the ridiculous and the sublime... I argue that some day we may not know which is which.