Showing posts with label existence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label existence. Show all posts

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Better A Living Dog Than A Dead Lion

Acting is the expression of a neurotic impulse. It's a bum's life. Quitting acting, that's the sign of maturity. - Marlon Brando

Preface:
The following is not a conversation. It is an introspective monologue with accompanying commentary, perhaps spoken by a chorus, a collective I'll call 'Rael'. If you can figure out who the 'Id' is, you'll understand at least half the story.

They say that discretion is the better part of valor. They also say that “the discretion of a man deferreth his anger; and it is his glory to pass over a transgression (Proverbs 19:11). Actually, they say a lot of things, but these days, I try hard not to listen anymore, and in the end, I'm glad that I have forgotten probably more than I ever knew.

Id:
Once upon a time there was me. Some years later I was taken away from whom I was in order to live a life I did not choose, or want.

Rael:
Choice is an illusion. Your path was chosen for you long before you were even born. In fact, it's in your blood to be who you are supposed to be. As far as 'wants' are concerned, you need not want for anything, for wants will be your downfall.

Id:
In fact, it was less a life, and more an existence. I say 'existence' in that I was existing, but it really wasn't a life, at least not the one I had previously imagined for myself.

Rael:
Children have limited capacities to understand the true meaning of life or to understand responsibility, which is why they are exempt from keeping the commandments. Children are easily led astray and must therefore be educated in all things proper.

Id:
When I was young, I was very self aware of the world around me. I had a very clear definition of who I was and what was important to me. I was very in tune to the world around me, and I don't mean my immediate surroundings, I mean current affairs, social issues, and even to a certain extent various ideologies of the times, some of which I embraced. I was very fascinated by TV. It was a conduit to all that makes us human in terms of art, culture, and knowledge. It was also something around which our family would gather and to some extent bond.

Rael:
TV is the 'idiot box'. It is a sewer pipe into your home, bringing a cesspool of filth and perversity, all the devil's work, to corrupt your soul and deviate you from your divine providence and purpose.

Id:
It's easy to say television can be a bad influence on children, but I don't, and didn't perceive it as such. I watched things that made me smile, think and become more aware of myself and others. If anything I'd say that television was a school of sorts, bringing me an education that the traditional institutions of academia failed miserably at providing me with.

Rael:
All the knowledge you ever need is written in the scriptures.

Id:
From television I learned to dream of what I may be and what life might hold for me. It opened my eyes to possibilities beyond my front and back yards. The world, and even to some extent space and time, opened up before me with the promise that one day I might blaze a trail to distant lands and learn of different cultures.

Rael:
Your destiny is not fulfilled in the company of strangers. Stay in your own backyard.

Id:
Now at the time, my family was not religious. If anything, we were conservative, and I had no particular bones with my heritage that I had been told was a part of me ... and of who I was.

Rael:
There is no black and white in religion. Either you are orthodox or you are a sinner. There are no gray areas. Moreover, the reformed and conservative are worse off than the ignorant, for they know there is a true path, and they deny it. They willfully transgress the word of the law. I would sooner visit the church of another nation than a temple of conservatism or reformism, dens of iniquity such as they are.

Id:
As soon as I went to school and learned to read, I began reading the newspaper, daily. I began to understand that American society was in a state of flux. I understood what a non-conformist was, as well as a conscientious objector. I identified with the tenements of counter culture and anti-establishment movements, though I didn't fully appreciate what the establishment actually was. From the cancellation of the Smothers Brothers comedy hour, I learned of censorship movements and was repulsed, that such things existed in America, the 'land of the free'.

Rael:
Pray for the integrity of the government; for were it not for the fear of its authority, a man would swallow his neighbor alive.

Id:
There was very little I learned in school, except how to read and to do basic math. My parents sent me to a private school. Little did I know that the school's establishment came on the heels of the passing of desegregation laws in Miami (Dade County, Florida), and the threat of 'busing'. I didn’t put these piecse together until later, but basically my family's jump to orthodoxy was motivated in part by fear and Southern racist motivations.

Rael:
One has to go out of one's way, if need be, to circumvent houses of ill repute. If you play with dirt, you get dirty.

Id:
I learned of the plight of the American Indian, and immediately stopped playing 'Cowboys and Indians'. Instead, I dreamed of eloping with a Native American Princess. The concept of 'love' was something that had dawned on me very early. The sentiments of the 'flower children' that were so pervasively paraded and often lampooned in the mainstream media had impacted me in such a way that I yearned to 'make love' and not war … and I hadn't even hit puberty, yet!

Rael:
In your rebellion and abrogation of your blood, you allow others to lead you astray to engage in acts of abomination, or worse, idol worship. Do not be a willing participant in what is tantamount to a second silent holocaust.

Id:
I didn't know what the conflict in Vietnam was all about exactly, but I saw it on the news. I read the headlines in the newspapers and saw ink smudged pictures in which you couldn't tell corpse from foliage. I knew that young men were dying there. I knew that people, older than me, but younger than most, objected. I thought the draft was wrong. I could not fathom one fighting for ones country, but by the same token I understood that many did. I fathomed the rift in my county's demographics.

Rael:
Correction: the country of your birth. You owe no allegiance to this foreign land. The holy land of our people's forefathers beckons you still. Perhaps someday, when you return to your faith and you will emigrate there, like many before you have done. The political and social affairs of the rest of the world are of no matter to you.

Id:
But still, as fascinated as I was with the world outside my homestead, there was a much deeper calling that beckoned me, resonating throughout every fiber of my existence. A gift from a muse perhaps, or a life force emanating from the beating of my heart. A rhythmic art form of melody and harmony, tempo and texture. Truly a medium of more than just sound and silence, but rather a purveyor of consciousness, a facilitator of perception, and a means of communication. Music is and has always been something as elemental to me as water and air. For as long as I can remember, my ears were glued to a portable transistor radio. I remember aspiring to be a Beatle, or at least a Monkee.

Rael:
Manna stems from the heavens, not from the radio. Moreover, music is an expression of its composer's soul, and listening to it puts you in touch with that person's essence. Music is a medium that allows the composer's thoughts, feelings, and emotions to affect you … to touch you. When the music stems from unholy sources, it does more than simply touch you, it defiles your soul and pollutes your mind and spirit.

Id:
I don't know how young I was before I knew I wanted to play music, write songs and lyrics, and bring them to others' ears.

Rael:
Who are you to write music and speak to others? The creation of music is reserved for the pious and holy from whose writings and studies gave life to songs that inspire others to divine service. Hold your tongue and repress your foolish worldly notions. You are no one, as insignificant as a speck of dust from whence you sprang and will one day return.

Id:
Music also was an escape for me. The music of my youth was indicative of a period in my life when I was the happiest. As I grew, and my life was abducted and shackled, music would always take me back home. It is no wonder Simon & Garfunkel's 'Homeward Bound' always resonated deeply within me. After all, it was the second 45' record I had owned; the first being Johnny Cash's 'I Walk The Line'.

Rael:
You have but one savior. All else takes you away from your divine purpose, which is to serve him.

Id:
Anyway, as the liberal and dynamic sentiments, notions, and impression of the 60s mutated to those of the conservative and self-centered 70s, I too changed. I began to look to the future, and wonder what my future might be, who I was and what I might become.

Rael:
What you consider 'you' to be is what separates you from divinity. Enlightenment through self-nullification is the path to righteousness and piety. It is the devil that feeds your ego. 'You' do not matter in the total scheme of things. Walking in the ways of our teachings and heritage is the only path. 'You' are nothing and should desire only to make yourself nothing in order to serve with all your being.

Id:
Change was less than gradual. My world transmogrified into a prison of faux existence. I was not asked, I was told and expected to follow. My good nature was taken advantage of. Blind faith was demanded as a life was stolen. A yoke was placed around my hopes, dreams, aspirations, mind, … and very identity. Instead of reason, there was oppression. Instead of spirit, there was doctrine. Instead of love there was guilt and irrational torment. Instead of ethics there was a higher power... or at least interpreters of his will. Don't touch your 'pee pee' or you'll go blind.

Rael:
It is not your place to question your lot in life. Like Job, and others before him, you were being tested. You failed spectacularly.

Id:
I wasn't a rebel. I was an artist. Perhaps at times a minstrel or court jester. I was a lover, not a fighter … and thus I allowed myself to go with the flow. I did not speak up, but rather feigned obedience and took the role of the wheel that did not squeak. Oil did not follow. Instead, I was driven through crap … that took me many years to finally scrape off the bottom of my shoe. It soiled me in ways I still cannot come to terms with or forgive myself for.

Rael:
Repentance is always an option. Otherwise … you're going to hell.

Id:
No, I've already been there.

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PS. Thanks for reading.  Have you ever had a crisis of faith, or is your faith your crisis? It's no wonder I always say, "I used to be religious, but now I'm just happy".

Suggested Reading:

F**k It: The Ultimate Spiritual Way  When I Say No, I Feel Guilty Godless: How an Evangelical Preacher Became One of America's Leading Atheists Does God Get Diarrhea?: Flushing 4,000 Years Of Lies, Myths, And Fairy Tales Down The Toilet

Suggested Listening:


Shayar: Spiritual Warrior

Monday, April 11, 2011

A Mess of Ideas Defying Expectations

"Hung velvet overtaken me
Dim chandelier awaken me
To a song dissolved in the dawn
The music hall a costly bow
The music all is lost for now
To a muted trumpeter swan
Columnated ruins domino"

I have an idea, but it begs the following questions:
Why is it easier to make a mess of some things than to just sort them out in the first place? Why is it harder to achieve greatness than mediocrity? Why is it easier to say 'no' than 'yes'? Why is it easier to go nowhere and do nothing than to set out on an adventure? Why do so many adventures we set out on come up short? Why do things implode with less intensity than they explode?

These are the types of questions equally raised by the hopeful and the hopeless; the dreamers and the depressed. They are part and parcel of the same enigmatic shaded overtones of our existence, and fail to answer what we are supposed to do with it.

Yes, many people have pondered the 'meaning of life'. Some have postulated carefully crafted answers, while others have just posited more conjecture. When members of these two camps of thinking meet, terms like 'primordial soup', 'existentialism' and 'life after death' are slung around like hash on a sizzling griddle. Someone shouts 'you think you know everything!' An incredulous gasp is exfoliated from the lips of the brow beaten. A pregnant pause is enjoyed by all. Some ask for donations.

Pandemonium ensues as more questions are eventually raised. Meanwhile, a mass of masses amass momentarily before going about their business. This throng of the 'tall and the small' are advised to seek sage and solace from:
the clergy and the cleric,
the physicist and the alchemist,
the healer and the savior,

A false prophet steps forward. A hush is heard as a child cries out "but he isn't wearing anything at all!" Stones fly. Am I heretical to ask why we are constantly looking for more than there actually is and why we are not content?

Why do we have to build a better mousetrap? It seems to me in so many ways we are constantly working against ourselves, banging our individual heads against a collective wall. Is it that we don't know what we want, or is it that we know exactly what we want but can't get it? Does all this mental masturbation yield the reality that we might all be hungry sadomasochists?

When we put our best foot forward, we inevitably learn that the other is left behind. The mandate "do your best!" dilutes into "do the best you can", further dissolving into grumblings of "nothing comes from nothing".

We encourage 'stars' to burn brightly, and then just as vehemently we clamor to see them self-destruct, even egging them on. "Jump! Jump!" we plead longing for a train wreck. In this regard, and to answer the age old cosmic conundrum, I guess it's true: a black hole can invariably swallow itself whole.

The sobering reality:
To maintain our sanity and make us 'SMiLE', we are admonished not to sweat the 'little things'. However, in the fabric of time, space and existence we are also reminded that we are all merely specks of dust. It's funny... I'm allergic to dust.

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PS. Thanks for reading. Do you question your existence or are you just not certain where to stand? Let me know. All roads should lead here.

Suggested Listening:

God Only Knows (1996 Digital Remaster)  Surf's Up Heroes And Villains (2001 Digital Remaster) (U.S. Remaster) 


Suggested Reading:

Not Always So: Practicing the True Spirit of Zen  Contact  Beyond Freedom & Dignity  The Underachiever's Manifesto: The Guide to Accomplishing Little and Feeling Great




Tuesday, February 8, 2011

My Morning Constitutional

On more than many a morning, I wake to find the silence deafening. I sigh, acknowledging the cliche. All the while, the tension mounts just beyond my window, resonating off people, buildings, technology and wheeled transport - works in progress all. Yes, there are delights unseen awaiting, broiling us in microwaves of undulating currents, modulating the air we choke on.

I've yet to rise, but I'm already on my way. My eye stings, my nose runs, my breath already soured from stale sleep. A short while later, the comfort of breakfast soothes and then bloats.

I am hurried to venture nothing with nothing to gain but the unholy pursuit itself that drives me to distraction. It's a sacred ritual for some; it's death to me. The loss of precious moments, youth, exuberance and creativity.

I think that I am, but perhaps I'm not. Eager to purge this allergen, I scratch, but the irritation persists. There is no ointment for this inflammation. No creams. Not even a poultice or a vapor rub.

Nevertheless, there are only decisions to make: tea or coffee, lemon and honey or another thimble full of a generic brand of Baileys Irish Cream. Seeking inner sanctum, I urinate freely for awhile.

Tuning in, I am then told that unemployment has risen 6.8 per cent. Tell me something I don't know. Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go....

Upon reaching my desk, I am left pondering my morning constitutional and the irony of how I hate going to sleep at night for fear I'll miss something....

“Habit is the beneficent harness of routine which enables silly men to live respectfully and unhappy men to live calmly” - George Elliot (Mary Ann Evans)

PS. Thanks for reading. How are your mornings? Let me know.

Suggested Reading:

Still Bored in a Culture of Entertainment: Rediscovering Passion & Wonder  This Unbearable Boredom of Being: A Crisis of Meaning in America  The Mill on the Floss (Oxford World's Classics)  The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are 


Suggested Listening (mp3):

Beads Of Sweat  Whipping Post No Place To Hide