Hey there internet, here are some things that I wanted to tell you;
PRISM (and all of the other NSA related news that the Guardian has been publishing) really freaks me out. It also makes me really wonder if I should focus all of my energy on leaving the country, and simultaneously ponder if everywhere in the world might be in just as much danger of big brother as we are here in the US of A. I’m trying really hard to not let THE MAN get me down, and sometimes it’s hard.
Instead of writing in my personal time I’ve been reading a lot, but a lot of my personal energy has also been going into alternative forms of correspondence; emails, editing, cyber-flirting, coding, and crafting. This is all a lot less glamorous than it sounds, and sometimes I wish it wasn’t necessary, or that I lived a life that could function without it. (Who is in control of that, you ask? Well, internet … you should stop asking rhetorical questions)
I’ve been thinking a lot about plot, so while I haven’t been writing much, I feel like I’ve made more progress in the world of writing between scribbled notes and silly conversations and exchanged ideas. This feels good.
I’ve come to a point where visual art feels kind of pointless. I won’t feel like this forever, but right now I couldn’t care less about a paint brush, and I think that’s okay. This too, shall change. Waiting is. Ect
My transition to waking up in the mornings and going to bed at night is still a work in progress. A part of my brain still feels like going to bed before midnight is for children, and that I’m missing out on some kind of magic, whereas a part of my memory this morning realizes that the stillness of the morning and the calmness of the world is it’s own special magic.
I’ve been dreaming AND remembering again. It’s been a while. It normally happens before something kind of serious changes, and I’m happy to be along for the ride.
Ta ta. I’ve got things to do and places to be. Don’t have too much fun without me.
Tonight I sat down with my housemate Nick to eat some sandwiches, and I launched into a story about a story. I told him about a piece on KUT that I listened to recently, and how it changed me.
Now, Nick is awesome. I say this because you probably don’t know him, and that’s too bad, because you would probably get along with him, like him a lot, want to hang out with him on the porch and eat sandwiches on a Friday night. He reads a lot, writes a lot, studies a lot, plays a lot of guitar, and makes beautiful music that makes me smile whenever I hear it. He’s also kind, wonderful to talk with, insightful and enthusiastic. The world would benefit from more people as good as Nick.
While we sat and ate, we talked about a lot of other things too. We spoke of the virtue of re-reading favorite books, the radical changes that The Nest (our home on Romeria) has been through in the last year, the dangers of defending your beliefs (or at least why I don’t argue with someone just because I believe something they don’t), incredible narratives, and benefits of couches versus tables.
Nick had questions about my story about a story. He wanted to know who told it, and. While I didn’t know his name, I also realized it doesn’t matter. Not that much, anyways. What mattered was the epiphany that came with the explanation. I was listening to a man explain how important laotsu was to him, and while he did so I felt everything I had ever read about the Tao click into place. The feeling made me less concerned with where I was driving, so I took a wrong turn to keep listening and blindly searched for the location of Dave and Busters, which was somewhere near where I was, but I didn’t know quite where, so I just let myself find it eventually.
While I drove my beat up station wagon, the guest spoke of contradictions, and their role in the mystical. He talked about balance, he talked about not living in a cycle of endless bliss, but living with and embracing the chaotic ride of life. He talked about yin and yang, light and dark, coexisting in everything, and I felt something click. I felt the forgiveness I’ve been searching for inside myself come along with my own story of my life. I looked at my own experiences, my joys and sorrows, and was able to experience peace within them both.
Later that night I came home and tried to write about it. I tried to explain the epiphany in logical terms, but it was worthless, because I was trying to logically explain doing without doing (Wei wu wei) with my simple western ideals, and it was a big jumbled mess, but I realized tonight that its not my place to do so. The real point of the story here is a frequently occurring one in absolutely everything I’ve ever said, and it’s about perspective.
I don’t expect to convince anyone to give up their lives to learn to be closer to the Tao because I wrote this, but I would ask one thing. Look at what’s bothering you sideways. Inspect your problems the way you would look at a 3d poster from one of those poster stores in 1999. Wonder in awe about how the heck MC Escher ever put all the perspective together to make a room full of stairs in every direction, and then try a fresh dose of contradiction, confusion, or mysticism. Pick up a book that didn’t make sense before. Watch a movie you didn’t enjoy again. Call up someone that you used to fight with and see if you can still be friends. You might just find something you didn’t even know you were looking for.