of "what are you doing?":
is: read my post, "I suppose I should"
or at least the beginning. That explains everything. The rest is a brief travelogue.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
no title.
met a man tonight, in the bookstore, looking at comics. Middle aged, starting to have trouble moving around. Worked down in Renton. Some company that started with a U. He had only been in Seattle two months. Finally got himself a job, but he had to take the buses to get there, and he had to be there by 6 in the morning. At night, he went to the homeless shelter, but it was already closed tonight. "it really gives you a new perspective. opens your world. living in a homeless shelter. You understand what it's like. Without that, there's just no understanding that life." And now it was raining, and the season was changing. He had to find a place to stay for the night. He didn't know where. He liked to write. "I'm just gonna come out and say this, I could really use some money to get a bus to where I'm going to sleep." He was from Texas, where people were more open, and the summers were terrible. I conspiratorially slipped him a twenty, making sure no one noticed. From the expression on his face it was more than he expected. We talked more, and I saw a little of what it meant to live his life. His family back home worried about him. He asked, hesitantly if I would go with him to the station and buy him a bus pass. I hesitated, then said, "good luck, brother." his eyes got moist and he quickly walked away.
Tom, was his name. I gave him my email, at his request, so he could tell me how it all works out. I hope he finds what he's looking for.
[November 2013, never did get an email from him, and wish I'd bought him that bus pass.]
met a man tonight, in the bookstore, looking at comics. Middle aged, starting to have trouble moving around. Worked down in Renton. Some company that started with a U. He had only been in Seattle two months. Finally got himself a job, but he had to take the buses to get there, and he had to be there by 6 in the morning. At night, he went to the homeless shelter, but it was already closed tonight. "it really gives you a new perspective. opens your world. living in a homeless shelter. You understand what it's like. Without that, there's just no understanding that life." And now it was raining, and the season was changing. He had to find a place to stay for the night. He didn't know where. He liked to write. "I'm just gonna come out and say this, I could really use some money to get a bus to where I'm going to sleep." He was from Texas, where people were more open, and the summers were terrible. I conspiratorially slipped him a twenty, making sure no one noticed. From the expression on his face it was more than he expected. We talked more, and I saw a little of what it meant to live his life. His family back home worried about him. He asked, hesitantly if I would go with him to the station and buy him a bus pass. I hesitated, then said, "good luck, brother." his eyes got moist and he quickly walked away.
Tom, was his name. I gave him my email, at his request, so he could tell me how it all works out. I hope he finds what he's looking for.
[November 2013, never did get an email from him, and wish I'd bought him that bus pass.]
Sunday, September 27, 2009
solved like sherlock
[Update: I don't seem to be doing this, and the blog doesn't seem to be going in a risque direction, so I guess I'll just leave it up to the impressionable adults to regulate themselves, if they don't like what they're reading. Also, I realized one of the things I like about blogs is feeling like I'm part of someone else's life. The feeling of staying in contact with someone. Especially now, when I'm so far away from most of my friends.]
aha! I figured it out! I'll write a once-monthly newsletter to all those who wish to subscribe, like my well written friend ron khare, and I'll put all the boring "how are you doing?" stuff in there. That way
a) I don't have to repeat it a gazillion times
c) only people who are interested in everyday affairs need sign up
b) I can tell my parents and such older, overly impressionable folk to stay out of my blog and talk about porn all I want here.
have I mentioned that fresh dates are a wonderful post-monitis snack? (like coitus, but the prefix is for one, not two.)
aha! I figured it out! I'll write a once-monthly newsletter to all those who wish to subscribe, like my well written friend ron khare, and I'll put all the boring "how are you doing?" stuff in there. That way
a) I don't have to repeat it a gazillion times
c) only people who are interested in everyday affairs need sign up
b) I can tell my parents and such older, overly impressionable folk to stay out of my blog and talk about porn all I want here.
have I mentioned that fresh dates are a wonderful post-monitis snack? (like coitus, but the prefix is for one, not two.)
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Problems:
1) I always feel like I should be doing more than I am doing
2) No matter what I do, I can't shake the feeling that I've never done anything in my life and never will
3) I am afraid that if I don't keep trying to do something, fail as I might, something bad will happen
Solutions:
1) have fun
2) realize this isn't a problem
3) let go and trust
2) No matter what I do, I can't shake the feeling that I've never done anything in my life and never will
3) I am afraid that if I don't keep trying to do something, fail as I might, something bad will happen
Solutions:
1) have fun
2) realize this isn't a problem
3) let go and trust
Dream Quotation
"We had a name for it, back before scientists had invented the Unified Field. We called it,
The big and beautiful wise everything."
--my Grandfather, in a dream.
The big and beautiful wise everything."
--my Grandfather, in a dream.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
I suppose I should
give some information that is actually relevant to this place/time, for those of you interested in and expectant of such things from a now public blog...
That's tricky though, because I think this blog will be most interesting and fun if I just pretend no one else is going to read it. No longer possible, I suppose. Just be warned: if you are someone who gets offended, ever, you might not want to read my uncensored thoughts.
I'm going to Seattle, except I already went. I don't keep this blog very regularly, you see.
I'm going, or wenting, to be a part of a wilderness skills school called Earthwalk Northwest. I'm doing the Apprenticeship program for a year. But not the whole year. The program is only two days out of the week, until somewhere around April-May, when it will go up to three days a week, and then, in June, down to one day a week, until October, when it all ends.
I'm getting ahead of myself. I don't want to make this long, because it's not particularly interesting for me, because I've already done it, but people are curious about the road trip.
Three days of driving, one day in the middle of r&r at my uncles awesome mountain hideaway in Montana. 2300 miles.
Nature and friends supplied me with a driving buddy. Austin Trout, who was going back to school in Olympia and needed a ride out.
Austin is tall, blond, bearded, with a laid-back demeanor and soft deep voice that is misleadingly relaxing. Like surfer dudes, that seem chill until they're out on the sea, paddling like mad to catch a wave that has a 30% chance of killing them.
The first day was short and uneventful. We talked, ate from our comfortingly excessive food supply of fruit, almond butter, granola, nuts, and healthfood candy bars. We slept at a campground right outside the Badlands, and the next morning, drove through them, watching the sunrise.
Shit, blogger is being an asshole with formatting. DAMN you computers, stealing my time, my very life.
Anyways, then we stopped by devils tower
very briefly, and drove on until about 11:00pm, to arrive at my uncles permiculture homestead/ranch/spiritual retreat. I would have stayed longer probably, but Austin was keen to get back, and I didn't care that much either way. I'm definitly coming back for a longer stay though. It seems like a perfect place to write a lot or be creative in some way. No people around to distract, and plenty of nature to inspire and energize.
Wish I had some interior shots.
I love mountain homes. I love being comfortable while storms rage just outside of large scenic windows. I love the feeling of being hidden above the world, secluded and safe. I like high places, with views that give you vertigo, make you aware of how small you are and how big the universe gets, and what the earth would look like while flying. And I love being surrounded by rocks to play with and admire. A piece of broken, purple slate with mica in it, sparkling in the sun, is just as precious and beautiful to me as rubies or diamonds. I like talking to rocks. Feeling them and getting to know there personalities. And if they're really shiny, fantasizing about chewing and eating them like candy. I think Jung said that means you want to assimilate something into yourself. I guess I need more Rock in my life, as well as Funk.
That day traveling to my uncles house was a great sunset.
Also, I think we briefly drove through Wall Town after the Badlands, looking halfheartedly for the dinosaurs and feeling like dirty tourists, which, of course, we were. Austin had mentioned that he had trouble being patient, and wanted to get back to Olympia, so we did precious little stopping.
My preference is to do a few things, but do them well. Otherwise it's just tourism, driving all over the place and snapping pictures like it's some kind of treasure hunt or status symbol, "look, here's a picture of a bunch of places you've already seen, but with my ugly mug stamped in front of it. VALIDATE MEEEEEEeeee!" Ahem. To each his own.
Really I just don't like driving, so if I'm going to go somewhere, it had better have a big payoff. Since I'm so easy to please in terms of scenic scenes (I was mesmerized for a half hour by a daddy long legs extracting it's self from it's old exoskeleton (and by the way they are NOT poisonous! Check Snopes before you believe weird things people tell you.)) scenic scenery is almost never a good reason to go traveling for me.
However, apparently traveling is an excellent way for the universe to show me where my uncomfortable spots are, so it's always finding excuses to get me on the road.
The next day we took a long route by Mount Rainer. That was gorgeous. I crashed at Austins place for the night, and arrived at the TM center the next morning. Been here ever since. More as time allows (pictures make everything take longer)
That's tricky though, because I think this blog will be most interesting and fun if I just pretend no one else is going to read it. No longer possible, I suppose. Just be warned: if you are someone who gets offended, ever, you might not want to read my uncensored thoughts.
I'm going to Seattle, except I already went. I don't keep this blog very regularly, you see.
I'm going, or wenting, to be a part of a wilderness skills school called Earthwalk Northwest. I'm doing the Apprenticeship program for a year. But not the whole year. The program is only two days out of the week, until somewhere around April-May, when it will go up to three days a week, and then, in June, down to one day a week, until October, when it all ends.
I'm getting ahead of myself. I don't want to make this long, because it's not particularly interesting for me, because I've already done it, but people are curious about the road trip.
Three days of driving, one day in the middle of r&r at my uncles awesome mountain hideaway in Montana. 2300 miles.
Nature and friends supplied me with a driving buddy. Austin Trout, who was going back to school in Olympia and needed a ride out.
Austin is tall, blond, bearded, with a laid-back demeanor and soft deep voice that is misleadingly relaxing. Like surfer dudes, that seem chill until they're out on the sea, paddling like mad to catch a wave that has a 30% chance of killing them.
The first day was short and uneventful. We talked, ate from our comfortingly excessive food supply of fruit, almond butter, granola, nuts, and healthfood candy bars. We slept at a campground right outside the Badlands, and the next morning, drove through them, watching the sunrise.
Shit, blogger is being an asshole with formatting. DAMN you computers, stealing my time, my very life.
Anyways, then we stopped by devils tower
very briefly, and drove on until about 11:00pm, to arrive at my uncles permiculture homestead/ranch/spiritual retreat. I would have stayed longer probably, but Austin was keen to get back, and I didn't care that much either way. I'm definitly coming back for a longer stay though. It seems like a perfect place to write a lot or be creative in some way. No people around to distract, and plenty of nature to inspire and energize.
Wish I had some interior shots.
I love mountain homes. I love being comfortable while storms rage just outside of large scenic windows. I love the feeling of being hidden above the world, secluded and safe. I like high places, with views that give you vertigo, make you aware of how small you are and how big the universe gets, and what the earth would look like while flying. And I love being surrounded by rocks to play with and admire. A piece of broken, purple slate with mica in it, sparkling in the sun, is just as precious and beautiful to me as rubies or diamonds. I like talking to rocks. Feeling them and getting to know there personalities. And if they're really shiny, fantasizing about chewing and eating them like candy. I think Jung said that means you want to assimilate something into yourself. I guess I need more Rock in my life, as well as Funk.
That day traveling to my uncles house was a great sunset.
Also, I think we briefly drove through Wall Town after the Badlands, looking halfheartedly for the dinosaurs and feeling like dirty tourists, which, of course, we were. Austin had mentioned that he had trouble being patient, and wanted to get back to Olympia, so we did precious little stopping.
My preference is to do a few things, but do them well. Otherwise it's just tourism, driving all over the place and snapping pictures like it's some kind of treasure hunt or status symbol, "look, here's a picture of a bunch of places you've already seen, but with my ugly mug stamped in front of it. VALIDATE MEEEEEEeeee!" Ahem. To each his own.
Really I just don't like driving, so if I'm going to go somewhere, it had better have a big payoff. Since I'm so easy to please in terms of scenic scenes (I was mesmerized for a half hour by a daddy long legs extracting it's self from it's old exoskeleton (and by the way they are NOT poisonous! Check Snopes before you believe weird things people tell you.)) scenic scenery is almost never a good reason to go traveling for me.
However, apparently traveling is an excellent way for the universe to show me where my uncomfortable spots are, so it's always finding excuses to get me on the road.
The next day we took a long route by Mount Rainer. That was gorgeous. I crashed at Austins place for the night, and arrived at the TM center the next morning. Been here ever since. More as time allows (pictures make everything take longer)
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Self-Plagerism
Two quotes that other people reminded me I have written/said, that I had forgotten.
"Paradox in a box, the keys are the locks"
-(gmail status)
"There's something missing in my life, and it's definitely more funk!"
(said in a slurred, way, so it sounds like 'fuck')
-quote
The title makes me wonder,
how does one plagiarize one's self?
Would that mean you are or aren't taking credit for what you did?
I suppose if you pretended to be someone else, and took credit for things you did while not pretending to be someone else. That's what God is doing whenever we think we're in control of our lives.
-IO
"Paradox in a box, the keys are the locks"
-(gmail status)
"There's something missing in my life, and it's definitely more funk!"
(said in a slurred, way, so it sounds like 'fuck')
-quote
The title makes me wonder,
how does one plagiarize one's self?
Would that mean you are or aren't taking credit for what you did?
I suppose if you pretended to be someone else, and took credit for things you did while not pretending to be someone else. That's what God is doing whenever we think we're in control of our lives.
-IO
Sunday, September 13, 2009
I've found religeon
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
-- e. e. cummings
photo photo-shopped by David Murphy
I always thought of religion mainly as the cause of those hideously boring Sunday-school sessions. When I thought of religion I thought of people murmuring nonsense sounds while trying to feel really bad about themselves so Big Daddy wouldn't get pissed off and thunderbolt their ass. Or if they actually knew what they were saying, it was basically an attempt to suck up to God to get what they wanted. But that was only on the rare occasions they were really screwed and had no other options. Most of the time it was just a strange social obligation. Go to church/synagogue because I say so, go because other people with think badly of me if you don't go.
There was some value in the holiday rituals I participated in, but it was slight. And so religion for me growing up was just an additional social responsibility, like showering and not saying things that made people uncomfortable.
Just recently, I discovered what religion is actually supposed to be about. I was having a deep conversation with a friend, and suddenly in a surprised voice they said, "oh wow, look at the sun." and I did, and it was gorgeous. I felt such satisfaction, taking in the beauty, that I just felt a spontaneous urge to thank the creator of that sunset. Like a pretty girl unexpectedly kissing me on the cheek, I felt excited and happy and affectionate back. I wanted to give God a hug or a smile or something.
That's what real prayer is. Not brown-nosing God like he's a boss you're trying to get a raise from. Finally all those prayers praising God made sense.
I'm still staying away from institutionalized religion, but I'm beginning to get a sense of the impulse that originally created these religions, these traditions. It started with someone who had a personal relationship with God, like you might with a best friend or a dog. Then weirdos saw that person, and tried to emulate his actions, rather than trying to understand his feelings.
Analogy: Someone is covered is fire ants and is flailing around, rolling on the ground, trying to get them off. Person A sees him, says, "oh, that man is a great man, I want to be like him." and starts failing around, imitating the ant-covered man. Person Z comes by, sees the flailing man, says to himself, "my that's strange, why is he flailing like that?" and investigates, discovering that it is because the man is covered in ants. This second observer then notices the ant mound and avoids it. If we want to explain the analogy, let's say, for example, Jesus is the man covered in ants, the people who codified him into a religion are the ant dancers, and the people who discovered the ants are the mystics and the truly religious.
A simpler analogy: let's say knowing God is like having an orgasm. People see someone have an orgasm, say, "I want to get me some of that," and start copying the persons "O" face and grunting sounds. Meanwhile, the serious seekers start learning about sex. Often times the "O" face copiers get pissed off, frightened, disgusted, or jealous (usually a bit of all of 'em) and try to kill the perverts (read: mystics) or drive them out of town. Too bad, because if they would just stick around, they might get laid.
:D
-I out
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
-- e. e. cummings
photo photo-shopped by David Murphy
I always thought of religion mainly as the cause of those hideously boring Sunday-school sessions. When I thought of religion I thought of people murmuring nonsense sounds while trying to feel really bad about themselves so Big Daddy wouldn't get pissed off and thunderbolt their ass. Or if they actually knew what they were saying, it was basically an attempt to suck up to God to get what they wanted. But that was only on the rare occasions they were really screwed and had no other options. Most of the time it was just a strange social obligation. Go to church/synagogue because I say so, go because other people with think badly of me if you don't go.
There was some value in the holiday rituals I participated in, but it was slight. And so religion for me growing up was just an additional social responsibility, like showering and not saying things that made people uncomfortable.
Just recently, I discovered what religion is actually supposed to be about. I was having a deep conversation with a friend, and suddenly in a surprised voice they said, "oh wow, look at the sun." and I did, and it was gorgeous. I felt such satisfaction, taking in the beauty, that I just felt a spontaneous urge to thank the creator of that sunset. Like a pretty girl unexpectedly kissing me on the cheek, I felt excited and happy and affectionate back. I wanted to give God a hug or a smile or something.
That's what real prayer is. Not brown-nosing God like he's a boss you're trying to get a raise from. Finally all those prayers praising God made sense.
I'm still staying away from institutionalized religion, but I'm beginning to get a sense of the impulse that originally created these religions, these traditions. It started with someone who had a personal relationship with God, like you might with a best friend or a dog. Then weirdos saw that person, and tried to emulate his actions, rather than trying to understand his feelings.
Analogy: Someone is covered is fire ants and is flailing around, rolling on the ground, trying to get them off. Person A sees him, says, "oh, that man is a great man, I want to be like him." and starts failing around, imitating the ant-covered man. Person Z comes by, sees the flailing man, says to himself, "my that's strange, why is he flailing like that?" and investigates, discovering that it is because the man is covered in ants. This second observer then notices the ant mound and avoids it. If we want to explain the analogy, let's say, for example, Jesus is the man covered in ants, the people who codified him into a religion are the ant dancers, and the people who discovered the ants are the mystics and the truly religious.
A simpler analogy: let's say knowing God is like having an orgasm. People see someone have an orgasm, say, "I want to get me some of that," and start copying the persons "O" face and grunting sounds. Meanwhile, the serious seekers start learning about sex. Often times the "O" face copiers get pissed off, frightened, disgusted, or jealous (usually a bit of all of 'em) and try to kill the perverts (read: mystics) or drive them out of town. Too bad, because if they would just stick around, they might get laid.
:D
-I out
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