so it seems clear that i am stepping away from writing smaller entries, and launching into a larger piece of work. but it's daunting, at best, so i think that from time to time i will still be finding spare change to spend on some abstract and unaffiliated subjects here. this site was always a good cathartic release for me, and i'm glad to have the vent here where i can always find it.
memorial day weekend! i should by all rights be excited about this single-day-more-than-usual break for working purposes, but it seems i have been signed up to go to Bend for a good portion of my time off. hopefully that will be fun; if nothing else it will be good to get into a truly fresh area where my mind can recharge, and perhaps recapture a piece of originality. even though i have of broad spectrum of things that i do these days, i feel that for the most part they are things which i have constantly done before. and there is a definite charm to reliving experiences, especially since they always hold some new context even if in small degree...it has been on my mind that repeatability, replay-value, is among one of the foremost tenets of the american economy. sometimes you just want to know what you're getting, or know what kind of atmosphere you are going to immerse yourself in. i do it all the time; holing up in coffee shops because i welcome their kaleidoscopic atmosphere, while still having a comfortable and calming familiarity. at times, though, i get burnt with doing the same things and going to the same places. these ideas start to coagulate, to clump together into a ball like a putty, and they become less and less distinct from one another. it is a phenomenon which i regard thoughtfully, and often, because it seems like the larger themes of my thought and life are reflected in these massed-stars; they are certainly useful if only to illustrate and make more tangible the waves of time passing over me, and how what i think about changes in both manner and mood. but they also, at times, begin to acquire a stale taste which makes me eager for something new.
i am at odds with time lately. my weekends seem to flit away, which would not be so concerning if they weren't in contrast to my weekdays, upon which i typically do not get anything meaningful done. and let me separate senses there, because i do have a full-time job, and a good one at that....i just don't think that i accomplish anything monumental or inspiring while a chip away at it every monday through friday~ my time balances are all mixed-about, because one must save some time for relaxation or risk excess stress. it would be nice to have more time to write, more time to paint, more time for music. always people think it would be 'nice to have more time'. i realize that it must be made, and i am making it, but i worry that my life-formula is currently incorrect because i feel like i am always struggling with time-management. it does not seem, as it sometimes does, as though time is in my corner.
on the other hand, i am much happier, overall, than i have ever been. i can't remember being so satisfied with everything since i was a child. i have complaints, of course...nobody wants an office for 40 hours. but what is irregular, what seems different than ever before, is that all the time i find myself with a genuine smile on my face, and more goodwill towards everyone on the planet than i can usually muster. i have come to a lot of realizations, which ones supposes could be considered maturities, about people in general, and i've subsequently found myself to be in possession of a lot less inward negativity than i used to exhibit. perhaps it comes from having more personal confidence, and being less worried about what others think. i can't pin down the roots precisely (natch; they are underground), but i know that things are better, in so many ways, than they had been for me during say, high school and college. i am actually happier in a lot of ways than i was in college, the so-called 'golden' years, and i take that to be a positive thing. perhaps i am nourishing myself in all the right ways, and have nothing at all to complain about~ least of all time.
perhaps i can find a way, today, to make peace with time. that sounds infinitely pleasurable. here go.
oh.....GO NUGGETS!!~
May 23, 2009
April 16, 2009
aw
you know what's twisted, in retrospect? elementary and middle-school magazine drives. seriously, it seems like there should have been some child-labor laws violated there.
but man do those mag companies know how to market their shit - leeching onto cute little kids who need money for field-trip funding~ then rewarding them with toys that probably cost twenty cents to batch up in china. just awful.
but man do those mag companies know how to market their shit - leeching onto cute little kids who need money for field-trip funding~ then rewarding them with toys that probably cost twenty cents to batch up in china. just awful.
April 9, 2009
some shadowed places
let me theorize for a moment here. i had a dream the other night that was oddly coraline-esque, in the sense that i was struggling with some dominant monster in the house that i grew up in. i don't remember a lot of the details; i wish i had written closer to the actual event but i haven't been finding the time lately, and it just struck me upside the head with its oddity. i do remember that i was in my parents' bedroom, though as characteristic in dreams it was not so much the same in furnishings, or size, just in relative location and perhaps general shape. this is an energy-center of a house for children, so i can understand why my mind would choose it as a setting of some sort. i'm sure that i also branched, at some point, into my own childhood room, which was just across the hallway...an easy jaunt even if progress was hindered by battle, or whatever~
i'm not really sure where i intend to go with this prelude...it strikes me as, not necessarily unusual, but quite curious that so many of my dreams happen in or around my old house. you would think that my mind would be engaging nightly with newer problems, newer ideas, and setting them appropriately in my new surroundings...but perhaps these are too volatile, in my lack of knowledge of them, to paint adequate pictures for a backdrop. i'm fairly certain that my themes, the ideas that my dreams are really digging their fingers into, hashing out, are more intelligent than they used to be...that they deal with different issues as they develop, as i come across them in my actual experience. but they come as ghosts in my old haunts, which, for my part, was unexpected.
so, the parents' bedroom was unique, usually not a typical setting. there are other places which recur with more frequency...namely the backyard. we had a good-sized backyard at my house in the springs, and i suppose that i spent a good deal of time in it. in the dreams, however, it is permeated with a sense of mystery, of vagueness and enormous, almost incomprehensible, size. i wonder about myself as a child, and in the wonderment i find this charmed recurrence of earlier self. it makes me wonder about the most basic sensations in life....that of the security of the home; the focus of life for everyone that you know. the comfort found inside those walls, and how that is imbued upon a childish mind....what the outside would have meant to me, then. i imagine myself, done up in blue one-piece winnie-the-pooh pajamas, gazing in rapt bewilderment out the glass doors in our main entryway, trying to decipher the strange wilderness, the unexplored depths of our backyard. what does a two-year old think of a tree? of grass and flowers? do they have the same positive valence that we would attribute to them now? part of me thinks that they would be frightening totems (head on pole) of the outside world, of complete loss of control.
of course, to a child, unknowns behave in different ways than they do to us now. our adult selves build up apprehensions based upon our past experiences; they fortify us from the outside world with snowglobe-like bricks, each teeming with motion and memory, each distorting the outside world more and more as we look through them, sometimes not even being able to see past the memories themselves. children become apprehensive, fearful, but only after their base comforts have already been stripped from them. a child misses his mother only once she is gone, not before; a child does not fear being lost until it actually arises. we tangle with these scenarios before they exist, and in that we lose something valuable in our interface with the world - we begin to focus more and more, and ultimately we see less and less.
so here i am, standing with my hands and nose pressed against the glass separating my child self from his house's backyard. squirrels scamper by, and i do not understand them. i wonder what sensations they call to my heart.
if i had to guess (since the time i am describing is before memory), and i am going to infer from my dreams now, i would venture to say that i felt fear. not a gripping terror, but an ambiguous shadow floating just beyond my perception, darkening. i say this, because in my dreams i find this same darkness to it. it has apparently been chosen as the place where i work out most of my unconscious struggles. i wish i had a running count of the number of dreams and/or nightmares which at some point trample through that backyard, which in reality has not a trace of ominousness to it but, who can say what a mind will twist anything into at the end of the day~ different sections of that backyard are honeycombed off in my mind; each attributed with memories and characteristics, properties which are real to me but which never belonged.
additionally, as if that weren't enough, i have an amplification of this wilderness....i have my family's cabin, secluded deep in the woods of kenosha pass. this was the spot for family vacations, an inexpensive spot to get away from it all, and i'm certain that it is tethered to numerous memories for everyone who goes there so it is a logical place to return to. i have spent time at this cabin as far back as i can remember, and always it has been a holy temple to me, an observation of the depths of nature and a retreat from the world as i knew it. this cabin is a fantastic place; perhaps you, reader, will be taken there one day~ but it has also developed, for me, as an extremely psychologically-powerful token. i go to this cabin, in my dreams, in my unconscious mind, when apparently there are mountains of rubble in my head that need to be worked through. almost always this cabin appears to me as a fractured house of the most haunted and haunting capacity possible. always there are deep-seated ghosts, literally; always it is overrun with the raw power of nature, crowned with black, spindly insects, the wardens of what deeper unsettled spirits lie slumbering there. the woods around this cabin host my deepest dreams, my deepest indications of what being 'lost', or pursued by the night, feels like. always it is an incredible adventure just to get to this place, rarely by car as would be expected; typically i must forge my way through snowfields and packs of savage animals, cross extreme conditions and distances in pursuit of something i do not know, at least not consciously. i am never sure what the motivation for returning to this place is, but always there is something drawing me towards it.
i do not know why these nature spots have become the seats for my subconscious psyche. all i can say is that they are bottled with unspeakable things; they reflect a different side of the world, as if i had stood in the middle of them and used the mirror from A Link to the Past. things do not make sense there, and everything is darkened. i thought it notable, towards the goal of figuring myself out a little better...and it always helps me to sort out my thoughts more clearly, this 'writing'.
shhh! listen:
royksopp - "royksopp forever"
i'm not really sure where i intend to go with this prelude...it strikes me as, not necessarily unusual, but quite curious that so many of my dreams happen in or around my old house. you would think that my mind would be engaging nightly with newer problems, newer ideas, and setting them appropriately in my new surroundings...but perhaps these are too volatile, in my lack of knowledge of them, to paint adequate pictures for a backdrop. i'm fairly certain that my themes, the ideas that my dreams are really digging their fingers into, hashing out, are more intelligent than they used to be...that they deal with different issues as they develop, as i come across them in my actual experience. but they come as ghosts in my old haunts, which, for my part, was unexpected.
so, the parents' bedroom was unique, usually not a typical setting. there are other places which recur with more frequency...namely the backyard. we had a good-sized backyard at my house in the springs, and i suppose that i spent a good deal of time in it. in the dreams, however, it is permeated with a sense of mystery, of vagueness and enormous, almost incomprehensible, size. i wonder about myself as a child, and in the wonderment i find this charmed recurrence of earlier self. it makes me wonder about the most basic sensations in life....that of the security of the home; the focus of life for everyone that you know. the comfort found inside those walls, and how that is imbued upon a childish mind....what the outside would have meant to me, then. i imagine myself, done up in blue one-piece winnie-the-pooh pajamas, gazing in rapt bewilderment out the glass doors in our main entryway, trying to decipher the strange wilderness, the unexplored depths of our backyard. what does a two-year old think of a tree? of grass and flowers? do they have the same positive valence that we would attribute to them now? part of me thinks that they would be frightening totems (head on pole) of the outside world, of complete loss of control.
of course, to a child, unknowns behave in different ways than they do to us now. our adult selves build up apprehensions based upon our past experiences; they fortify us from the outside world with snowglobe-like bricks, each teeming with motion and memory, each distorting the outside world more and more as we look through them, sometimes not even being able to see past the memories themselves. children become apprehensive, fearful, but only after their base comforts have already been stripped from them. a child misses his mother only once she is gone, not before; a child does not fear being lost until it actually arises. we tangle with these scenarios before they exist, and in that we lose something valuable in our interface with the world - we begin to focus more and more, and ultimately we see less and less.
so here i am, standing with my hands and nose pressed against the glass separating my child self from his house's backyard. squirrels scamper by, and i do not understand them. i wonder what sensations they call to my heart.
if i had to guess (since the time i am describing is before memory), and i am going to infer from my dreams now, i would venture to say that i felt fear. not a gripping terror, but an ambiguous shadow floating just beyond my perception, darkening. i say this, because in my dreams i find this same darkness to it. it has apparently been chosen as the place where i work out most of my unconscious struggles. i wish i had a running count of the number of dreams and/or nightmares which at some point trample through that backyard, which in reality has not a trace of ominousness to it but, who can say what a mind will twist anything into at the end of the day~ different sections of that backyard are honeycombed off in my mind; each attributed with memories and characteristics, properties which are real to me but which never belonged.
additionally, as if that weren't enough, i have an amplification of this wilderness....i have my family's cabin, secluded deep in the woods of kenosha pass. this was the spot for family vacations, an inexpensive spot to get away from it all, and i'm certain that it is tethered to numerous memories for everyone who goes there so it is a logical place to return to. i have spent time at this cabin as far back as i can remember, and always it has been a holy temple to me, an observation of the depths of nature and a retreat from the world as i knew it. this cabin is a fantastic place; perhaps you, reader, will be taken there one day~ but it has also developed, for me, as an extremely psychologically-powerful token. i go to this cabin, in my dreams, in my unconscious mind, when apparently there are mountains of rubble in my head that need to be worked through. almost always this cabin appears to me as a fractured house of the most haunted and haunting capacity possible. always there are deep-seated ghosts, literally; always it is overrun with the raw power of nature, crowned with black, spindly insects, the wardens of what deeper unsettled spirits lie slumbering there. the woods around this cabin host my deepest dreams, my deepest indications of what being 'lost', or pursued by the night, feels like. always it is an incredible adventure just to get to this place, rarely by car as would be expected; typically i must forge my way through snowfields and packs of savage animals, cross extreme conditions and distances in pursuit of something i do not know, at least not consciously. i am never sure what the motivation for returning to this place is, but always there is something drawing me towards it.
i do not know why these nature spots have become the seats for my subconscious psyche. all i can say is that they are bottled with unspeakable things; they reflect a different side of the world, as if i had stood in the middle of them and used the mirror from A Link to the Past. things do not make sense there, and everything is darkened. i thought it notable, towards the goal of figuring myself out a little better...and it always helps me to sort out my thoughts more clearly, this 'writing'.
shhh! listen:
royksopp - "royksopp forever"
April 2, 2009
today
"friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... it has no survival value; rather is one of those things that give value to survival."
~ C. S. Lewis
how good to have friends, people that we can merge ourselves with; the refraction of perspectives gives telescopic sight. what we can bounce off of a friend is a concept, a notion of ourselves that we have gathered, and we present it freely...a concept which is taken, and puttied, and molded in another mind, mirrored, until we really begin to get a better idea of what we meant in the first place. they can show us things, they can take us farther...obliterating our boundaries and creating impressions of some unexplored territory to the east. they will notice different things, they will append our own selves until we begin to merge the lines and become confused. and then they position us, they help us to see where we fit within this larger picture. they bring our artisan selves, our works and spirit, to places that we have not physically or emotionally been to. places that we shall not know for some time, but which could alter our way of looking at life.
my friends are powerful forces. for them i would burn my books, my money, my car, my apartment. i would sacrifice these things to do real good for them. time is never 'spent' with them; it is savored thoroughly. it is crafted and shared. to spend time is the function of a job, lathing away wafer-thin slices of us so as to preserve the rest (for what else is the remainder intended?) and in the space with our friends, in nurturing environments, we grow back to our former selves. we relearn skills, we reconstruct our memories which had been partially-stripped. we are the children of our freely-chosen experiences.
so damn, it's great to be here. my people build me up, when i am down; they recall the shapes that i am missing at any given time (which takes a fair bit of analysis and knowledge of myself on their part), conjure them from our shared spaces, energies, and present them to me swathed in new packaging. or forgotten packaging, which is the best sort. i could only hope to do them this same service when it is needed. there is responsibility inherent in knowing someone (if they can be said to be 'known'), that we must keep vigil over them for when they are in a time of need. we all need, at some point. being close, that is really something to be proud of....not independence, which callously walls the heart against hope.
i hope some of that made sense.
"treat people as if they were what they ought to be and you help them to become what they are capable of being."
~ Goethe
~ C. S. Lewis
how good to have friends, people that we can merge ourselves with; the refraction of perspectives gives telescopic sight. what we can bounce off of a friend is a concept, a notion of ourselves that we have gathered, and we present it freely...a concept which is taken, and puttied, and molded in another mind, mirrored, until we really begin to get a better idea of what we meant in the first place. they can show us things, they can take us farther...obliterating our boundaries and creating impressions of some unexplored territory to the east. they will notice different things, they will append our own selves until we begin to merge the lines and become confused. and then they position us, they help us to see where we fit within this larger picture. they bring our artisan selves, our works and spirit, to places that we have not physically or emotionally been to. places that we shall not know for some time, but which could alter our way of looking at life.
my friends are powerful forces. for them i would burn my books, my money, my car, my apartment. i would sacrifice these things to do real good for them. time is never 'spent' with them; it is savored thoroughly. it is crafted and shared. to spend time is the function of a job, lathing away wafer-thin slices of us so as to preserve the rest (for what else is the remainder intended?) and in the space with our friends, in nurturing environments, we grow back to our former selves. we relearn skills, we reconstruct our memories which had been partially-stripped. we are the children of our freely-chosen experiences.
so damn, it's great to be here. my people build me up, when i am down; they recall the shapes that i am missing at any given time (which takes a fair bit of analysis and knowledge of myself on their part), conjure them from our shared spaces, energies, and present them to me swathed in new packaging. or forgotten packaging, which is the best sort. i could only hope to do them this same service when it is needed. there is responsibility inherent in knowing someone (if they can be said to be 'known'), that we must keep vigil over them for when they are in a time of need. we all need, at some point. being close, that is really something to be proud of....not independence, which callously walls the heart against hope.
i hope some of that made sense.
"treat people as if they were what they ought to be and you help them to become what they are capable of being."
~ Goethe
March 17, 2009
happy patties
it might seem, by all outward appearances, that i am slacking largely. i haven't posted anything on here for something like a fortnight. but even so, it doesn't mean i haven't been writing.....instead i am trying to work on *gasp* projects, bigger things, which is nice because usually i can't screw up the courage to embark on something larger than what i typically write on here. explosions of thought. perhaps you will find them here as they are developing, or as they emerge from whatever sort of chrysalis they might happen to be in. that i cannot say for sure. but,
isn't that exciting?
i think it is.
isn't that exciting?
i think it is.
February 28, 2009
dreamcatcher
i had an interesting experience last night....i started hovering over the precipice of sleep, but not actually tumbling into it. i had an exhausting day, and laid down at probably two in the morning, but for whatever reason wouldn't completely drop off. my mind sunk into a sleep-like state; i was able to clearly "see" things that i was thinking about, literally visualizing things in sharp lines and shapes. i wasn't able to control it necessarily. sometimes it would be an eruption of colors, and sometimes it would be a clear landscape, a play with players, a created world.
i remember when i was smaller, say elementary age, i used to have a particular skill. i was able to visualize drawings on a page, before they were actually there, and from that impression i would basically just trace out what my mind had already splashed onto the paper. i'm not sure at this point what to make of that, or where it has gone. i'm not sure if i lack the degree of creativity that i had then, or if my mind is so partitioned and full of varied information that i don't have the caches left to accommodate such lucid imaginings. maybe my mind clings to this solid-state world that we have, since it is more constant in ways than the imaginary, and it keeps my arm steeled against nonsensical interruptions. at any rate, it is a skill that i miss. lately when i draw or paint, or write for that matter, i don't really have any idea where it will end up....i have no means with which to reign things in. usually i will make a first stroke, and then a second, somewhat geometrically or in a unique formation, and then i will treat it sort of like cloud-watching....letting my mind pick out a picture that it could be a piece, it could be a keystone of. then that leap of faith is what it ends up becoming. now, this is a great modus operandi for a lot of different reasons...i've learned a lot from it and it has a lot of real-world implications that are useful in my everyday life, the more and more comfortable with it i become. i'm not sure i want to change it, for the time being, because i think it to be a valuable cultivation, a little precious crop of my own that i can work on to my ends. but, especially in the wake of my experience last night, i kind of miss the vivacity and forthrightness that my creative mind used to exhibit.
last night, like i said, i wasn't able to sleep for awhile. my mind somehow gave itself up to this, and instead it chose to drift in a liminal state...dreaming without sleeping, but not like day-dreaming. much more potent. the interesting part of it all was the degree of control which i had. i could nudge it, i could guide it. it was similar to a lucid dream (in which you acknowledge that you're asleep and dreaming), but without the comical side effects that usually arise from having the predominant sectors of logic in your brain completely switched off. a unique and psychedelic experience, but arising organically. it was a combination of mental functions which, for me, is very rare. i suppose i'm saying that i think there is something interesting to be learned from it, or ways to harness it for a positive result.
as i lay there, eyes closed, i was thinking from time to time of running for a pen. clearly this would have disrupted the stream of the moment, so i didn't~ but even so, i think (although not verifiably) that, had i been aware that the situation was going to happen, i could have had a pen in my hand and a pad of paper on the bed and been able to capture what was going on in some decipherable form or another (words, pictures). i know that i was awake enough to process the ideas, and could have transmitted them had i the means, even keeping my eyes closed. the feeling was loosely that of a bout of sleep paralysis (for those that have experienced it), but i know i could move slightly without risk of shattering it. instead of focusing on how i couldn't fully interact with the tangible world, i focused instead on how i could interact with the intangible one. i wish there were a better way to photograph what's going on in our minds than drawing and writing, but there really isn't, so i suppose it's fortunate that these are mediums which i am comfortable expressing myself through. *take care not to end sentence with preposition, blar. i think this skill, if i can develop it, would be a huge resource for me to draw from. it becomes so hard throughout the day to catch your mind on the hop, and to really express your good ideas when they come to you...this could be a door of perception that is worth throwing open. i can't think of the window i would have to close to accommodate it~
what is a more genuine expression of your mind than a dream? a whole world, rich landscapes, personalities and societies, architectures, all constructed out of nothing but the raw impressions the real world has left you with, and how you own unique mind twists and bends them. signs, representations. i would guarantee, even without a smidge of research to back me up, that dreams are one of the foremost inspirations for painters....i have had so many dreams that have been the richest, most explosive color schemes i have ever 'experienced' (if one can admit that reality of them). finnegan's wake, one of the most revered works of fiction that exists, is allegedly the lucid documentation of a dream. i think that they are powerful, that they can give us insights into the utmost potential of humanity and vision; new eyes to see the daylight with.
i'm so excited for the rest of this year~
i remember when i was smaller, say elementary age, i used to have a particular skill. i was able to visualize drawings on a page, before they were actually there, and from that impression i would basically just trace out what my mind had already splashed onto the paper. i'm not sure at this point what to make of that, or where it has gone. i'm not sure if i lack the degree of creativity that i had then, or if my mind is so partitioned and full of varied information that i don't have the caches left to accommodate such lucid imaginings. maybe my mind clings to this solid-state world that we have, since it is more constant in ways than the imaginary, and it keeps my arm steeled against nonsensical interruptions. at any rate, it is a skill that i miss. lately when i draw or paint, or write for that matter, i don't really have any idea where it will end up....i have no means with which to reign things in. usually i will make a first stroke, and then a second, somewhat geometrically or in a unique formation, and then i will treat it sort of like cloud-watching....letting my mind pick out a picture that it could be a piece, it could be a keystone of. then that leap of faith is what it ends up becoming. now, this is a great modus operandi for a lot of different reasons...i've learned a lot from it and it has a lot of real-world implications that are useful in my everyday life, the more and more comfortable with it i become. i'm not sure i want to change it, for the time being, because i think it to be a valuable cultivation, a little precious crop of my own that i can work on to my ends. but, especially in the wake of my experience last night, i kind of miss the vivacity and forthrightness that my creative mind used to exhibit.
last night, like i said, i wasn't able to sleep for awhile. my mind somehow gave itself up to this, and instead it chose to drift in a liminal state...dreaming without sleeping, but not like day-dreaming. much more potent. the interesting part of it all was the degree of control which i had. i could nudge it, i could guide it. it was similar to a lucid dream (in which you acknowledge that you're asleep and dreaming), but without the comical side effects that usually arise from having the predominant sectors of logic in your brain completely switched off. a unique and psychedelic experience, but arising organically. it was a combination of mental functions which, for me, is very rare. i suppose i'm saying that i think there is something interesting to be learned from it, or ways to harness it for a positive result.
as i lay there, eyes closed, i was thinking from time to time of running for a pen. clearly this would have disrupted the stream of the moment, so i didn't~ but even so, i think (although not verifiably) that, had i been aware that the situation was going to happen, i could have had a pen in my hand and a pad of paper on the bed and been able to capture what was going on in some decipherable form or another (words, pictures). i know that i was awake enough to process the ideas, and could have transmitted them had i the means, even keeping my eyes closed. the feeling was loosely that of a bout of sleep paralysis (for those that have experienced it), but i know i could move slightly without risk of shattering it. instead of focusing on how i couldn't fully interact with the tangible world, i focused instead on how i could interact with the intangible one. i wish there were a better way to photograph what's going on in our minds than drawing and writing, but there really isn't, so i suppose it's fortunate that these are mediums which i am comfortable expressing myself through. *take care not to end sentence with preposition, blar. i think this skill, if i can develop it, would be a huge resource for me to draw from. it becomes so hard throughout the day to catch your mind on the hop, and to really express your good ideas when they come to you...this could be a door of perception that is worth throwing open. i can't think of the window i would have to close to accommodate it~
what is a more genuine expression of your mind than a dream? a whole world, rich landscapes, personalities and societies, architectures, all constructed out of nothing but the raw impressions the real world has left you with, and how you own unique mind twists and bends them. signs, representations. i would guarantee, even without a smidge of research to back me up, that dreams are one of the foremost inspirations for painters....i have had so many dreams that have been the richest, most explosive color schemes i have ever 'experienced' (if one can admit that reality of them). finnegan's wake, one of the most revered works of fiction that exists, is allegedly the lucid documentation of a dream. i think that they are powerful, that they can give us insights into the utmost potential of humanity and vision; new eyes to see the daylight with.
i'm so excited for the rest of this year~
February 22, 2009
phantom limb
i kind of like the grey weather in portland. everything feels sort of muted, volume turned a little lower than usual, and it creates an odd harmony between all things. it acts in many ways like a thick colorado snowfall, which muffles sounds and tends to hang miniature weights upon any activity to be undertaken...but the greyness isn't so apparent a sensory change; you can't hear the karr-onchh of snow underfoot, sharp like glass shattering because there are no other sounds to vie for your ears' attention. i suppose that the mists here feel like some sort of oppression, something distinct which drapes off of your body like cobwebs. and it doesn't sound to a lot of people, especially when phrased as such, like a good thing....but i enjoy the directness of it. i like that it has no pretenses about being anything else. it's just, there, and it lends this tangibility to other sorts of oppressions, the kinds of sludges that we wade through every day in our lives and in our minds...it makes me feel as through i can assign this same 'thing-ness' to those (baggages), and that i can, now fully recognizing them for what they are, snap them over my knees like small twigs to be thrown down as kindling in my fire.
for some reason, this helps me to sort out my personality. i feel like i have a much healthier mindstate in portland, as opposed to other places lived, as though i am getting better and more rigorous in my gold-panning techniques (properly, being able to cut through the pitfalls that seem to be more and more dominant in everyday life, giving some lift to my feet and gaining golden perspective from a higher place). once in a philosophy class, we learned about an an idea of predator-creation, to coin a phrase. we have evolved to stay on our toes, as it were; to create situations which will keep up on guard, so that we won't be caught unawares when danger sneaks in peripherally. this worked out pretty well for us when we had wildcats and bears to contend with, but our current situation, as a society of evolved minds, has distanced us from most of our original concerns for safety. our instincts, however, those finely-tuned mental reflexes forged like clockwork over countless generations, remain. and now, caught in this modern situation, they force themselves into application and find all manner of new predators to conjure out of what should be minor troubles....social anxieties, insecurities, distant concerns about death and uncertain futures.
the problem with these apprehensions is that they are weaved thinly....not thick, easy to pluck strings, but rather numerous and minute, corded with great intricacy such that they gain an unparalleled fibrous strength and depth. these concerns are almost impossible, most of the time, to recognize as something separate from yourself....they come, sprouting to the surface, and they feel like 'you'. almost completely unrecognizable as something separate. you don't realize when they happen, but they darken like rainclouds and the world seems like it has always been this way, forever tinged with dejection and uncertainty. it is really, truly, very hard to break out of this cycle of thinking.
perhaps it is that i'm having a much more mindful year than any previous, taking opportunities to enrich my mind and my spirit, but i'm starting to pick up on these problem thoughts. indirectly, to be sure....i couldn't describe to you what i feel when i begin to acknowledge them. perhaps a subtle humming, like a struck tuning fork, a low-frequency from beyond a thin wall. perhaps meditating has helped me to pick up on a wider band of feelings, enabled me to stretch out the spectrum of emotions further so that i can chart my being with more accuracy. i can't say for sure. but i know that, being swathed in the clouds of this city, i feel a bit of that same logic, as if it has helped me somehow. helped me to locate the barnacles to scrape off of my hull when i have a moment to rest in port; filtered my possibilities into a better representation of what i would hope myself to be.
i don't see the weather here as a negative thing. i start to see it as recursive, mirroring myself in an outward reflection. and the funny thing is, i'm not saying that i am getting gloomier; quite the opposite really. the more i spend time in the shadows, the more i find myself able to bathe in the light, to preserve it, like a firefly in a bottle sitting on my shelves when i need it (or a photograph of one, if you want to get all buddhist about it~). and the more i can appreciate it, when it is actually present.
for some reason, this helps me to sort out my personality. i feel like i have a much healthier mindstate in portland, as opposed to other places lived, as though i am getting better and more rigorous in my gold-panning techniques (properly, being able to cut through the pitfalls that seem to be more and more dominant in everyday life, giving some lift to my feet and gaining golden perspective from a higher place). once in a philosophy class, we learned about an an idea of predator-creation, to coin a phrase. we have evolved to stay on our toes, as it were; to create situations which will keep up on guard, so that we won't be caught unawares when danger sneaks in peripherally. this worked out pretty well for us when we had wildcats and bears to contend with, but our current situation, as a society of evolved minds, has distanced us from most of our original concerns for safety. our instincts, however, those finely-tuned mental reflexes forged like clockwork over countless generations, remain. and now, caught in this modern situation, they force themselves into application and find all manner of new predators to conjure out of what should be minor troubles....social anxieties, insecurities, distant concerns about death and uncertain futures.
the problem with these apprehensions is that they are weaved thinly....not thick, easy to pluck strings, but rather numerous and minute, corded with great intricacy such that they gain an unparalleled fibrous strength and depth. these concerns are almost impossible, most of the time, to recognize as something separate from yourself....they come, sprouting to the surface, and they feel like 'you'. almost completely unrecognizable as something separate. you don't realize when they happen, but they darken like rainclouds and the world seems like it has always been this way, forever tinged with dejection and uncertainty. it is really, truly, very hard to break out of this cycle of thinking.
perhaps it is that i'm having a much more mindful year than any previous, taking opportunities to enrich my mind and my spirit, but i'm starting to pick up on these problem thoughts. indirectly, to be sure....i couldn't describe to you what i feel when i begin to acknowledge them. perhaps a subtle humming, like a struck tuning fork, a low-frequency from beyond a thin wall. perhaps meditating has helped me to pick up on a wider band of feelings, enabled me to stretch out the spectrum of emotions further so that i can chart my being with more accuracy. i can't say for sure. but i know that, being swathed in the clouds of this city, i feel a bit of that same logic, as if it has helped me somehow. helped me to locate the barnacles to scrape off of my hull when i have a moment to rest in port; filtered my possibilities into a better representation of what i would hope myself to be.
i don't see the weather here as a negative thing. i start to see it as recursive, mirroring myself in an outward reflection. and the funny thing is, i'm not saying that i am getting gloomier; quite the opposite really. the more i spend time in the shadows, the more i find myself able to bathe in the light, to preserve it, like a firefly in a bottle sitting on my shelves when i need it (or a photograph of one, if you want to get all buddhist about it~). and the more i can appreciate it, when it is actually present.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
