Lately I've recognized that I'm in some sort of holding pattern. I'm waiting for something, but I don't know what it is. Yesterday, as I knocked off work at 8:05 a.m., I felt a deep sadness that seemed to emanate from nowhere. I recognize that feelings are sort of like spirits that can occupy a person and then move on. The entity that is fear is best dealt with by meditation once or twice a day. I meditate most days when I awaken and before I go to sleep. When Phobos decides he wants to have a go at my hormones, I can allow the demigod in and to have fun with my chemicals, but I have found that meditation has allowed me to keep my wits about me. I don't let Phobos, son of Ares, have my soul or my mind.
Triste, on the other hand, is a goddess who sometimes does grab me through my soul. There's a lot of grieving to sort through and to release in my life. When Triste enters into the frame, I frequently feel like things are hopeless, that no action is possible, that there's nothing to be done. I guess some would call this depression. Perhaps Thomas Moore's more classical take on it as Melancholy is more apt. But Triste frequently vanishes when I help another person. That's some amazing feat, just by holding the door open for someone or respectfully giving someone directions. Or refusing to give a lying panhandler any of my money to go off on whatever spree he or she might have in mind.
I don't know why I called this particular post "Action," but it feels right. The three A's--awareness, acceptance and action--put it last for a reason. I feel like I want to act, but the other two A's aren't in place yet. The sadness that I'm feeling could have various etiologies. Last week was the 22nd anniversary of when my folks told me that if I was gay they'd disown me because they loved me. I have also a residue of "veranophobia"--hatred of sumemrtime from my fat days. I also have a feeling that major changes are coming my way due to other actions I'm taking like finishing my 8th Step and getting ready to make amends in Step 9. There's a lot going on underneath the surface right now.
More will be revealed. Then more will be required.
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Fat Boy Inside My Head
I went to the Gay Pride parade in NYC yesterday. Glad I went, but I have to remark how I still see the world through OB Citizen eyes. While I don't expect people to reject me based on how I look, I still project an aura of discomfort as if I was still 120 pounds overweight. This takes time to disengage from my body and soul, I realize. I've only been at this maintenance game 10 months now, and I can't expect to suddenly transform into someone who's only known this weight forever. That will never happen, because I'll have those memories of carrying that extra weight and how I lived my life expecting isolation and victimization.
I'm in the hallway when it comes to this game of attraction and intimacy. Going to the parade for the first time in 6 years was a step. I give myself kudos for that, even though it was difficult for me as 12 Noon for me is like 12 Midnight for everyone else. I only got to see the first part of the parade, through the Marching Band basically, when I realized I had to go home and call it a day. I was also tired and getting over an exposure to industrial allergens and toxins the day before, so I was out-of-sorts in more ways than one. Still I did go, and I'm grateful. Let this be the start of new adventures...
I'm in the hallway when it comes to this game of attraction and intimacy. Going to the parade for the first time in 6 years was a step. I give myself kudos for that, even though it was difficult for me as 12 Noon for me is like 12 Midnight for everyone else. I only got to see the first part of the parade, through the Marching Band basically, when I realized I had to go home and call it a day. I was also tired and getting over an exposure to industrial allergens and toxins the day before, so I was out-of-sorts in more ways than one. Still I did go, and I'm grateful. Let this be the start of new adventures...
Words words words!
I had a conversation with my best friend Michael yesterday. I mentioned a book I was reading, which made the distinction between shamans and shamanists, it being that shamans are individuals working within an indigenous tradition, while shamanists are those who incorporate shamanic practices into their spiritual lives. Michael expressed frustration about the semantic nitpicking of the whole thing, and wondered whether or not it was the Ego that sought out this sort of hairsplitting.
Discrimination regarding word-choice is a fascinating area of inquiry to me. I sometimes agonize over the right words when I'm writing something creative, and also sometimes when it's something close to my heart politically or spiritually or in whatever way it might manifest. The distinction between "Shaman" and "Shamanist" probably developed over time, through the school of Trial and Error. It's partly a marketing tool--the book I was reading was written by a founder of the Faculty of Shamanics--that term also being a descriptor of the field wherein the Shamanist works. (Gets confusing when you realize the Shamanist practices Shamanics where the Shaman practices Shamanism. Yeah, you got that right.)
I also would guess that the terminology developed out of a desire not to step on the toes and belief systems of the indigenous peoples, but without abandoning the notion of a shaman- word-root for purposes of attraction and promotion. Word-deployment such as this gets to be manipulative, hence Michael's irritation. It's like the coiner of the term, while dismissive of those who would cobble together a "weekend spirituality" that strip-mines other cultures of their beloved practices to enclose them within parameters of "spiritainment" (shudder!), also attempts to appeal to these same spiritainment-seekers who may be lying to themselves about their spiritual practice. Sort of a hucksterish "we're different from them" approach designed to net some consumers along with the serious students.
Having read an autobiographical account of an actual shaman (Secrets of a Talking Jaguar by Martin Prechtel), I do see that an exquisite sensitivity and respect for more land-based cultures possesses paramount importance. People like Prechtel didn't ask to be shamans, and they slogged through what is ostensibly a training, internship, residency and then practice not at all unlike what allopathic doctors must endure. Within the Mayan culture Prechtel partook of, he functioned as a doctor/lawyer of the soul and spirit. Sometimes he wished the cup would be passed away from him. I'm deeply grateful to Mr. Prechtel for his book because it disabused me of the notion of wanting to be a shaman, much in the same way the notion to become a doctor evaporated once I followed one through the course of his day.
Still, in my meditations and journeys, I encounter animal figures and human guides who share with me insights into the incarnate experience I enact in these 3 dimensions. I suppose that makes me--shudder--a "Shamanist." I don't possess surety as to what it all means. The mask of Explorer covers my face as I gather information as to what my spirituality needs, what contours it inscribes. Other people's experiences and the reverence they bring with them into their lives tells me more about the nature of my own soul and spirit than anything else. I pick it up from all sorts of sources, some even Judeo-Christian. I sometimes joke that my "religion" is "Twicaltry". Take-What-I-Can-And-Leave-The-Rest-y. I have to tailor my spirituality to suit the contours of my soul, not try to shoehorn it into a prefab mold.
And perhaps my foray into neologism is itself an ego-move, though I recognize it's all kind of silly ultimately. Really what it comes down to is how do I work with others. Whether they get me or not is irrelevant--St. Francis of Assisi admonishes us to seek to understand rather than be understood in his awesome prayer. Language sometimes gets in the way of a truer understanding, but if I can sit with another's ego-moves and let them work themselves out, maybe even ask pointed and pertinent questions myself, the commonality will arise and a new point of agreement can be established. You say Shamanist, I say Shaman let's call the whole thing off...
Discrimination regarding word-choice is a fascinating area of inquiry to me. I sometimes agonize over the right words when I'm writing something creative, and also sometimes when it's something close to my heart politically or spiritually or in whatever way it might manifest. The distinction between "Shaman" and "Shamanist" probably developed over time, through the school of Trial and Error. It's partly a marketing tool--the book I was reading was written by a founder of the Faculty of Shamanics--that term also being a descriptor of the field wherein the Shamanist works. (Gets confusing when you realize the Shamanist practices Shamanics where the Shaman practices Shamanism. Yeah, you got that right.)
I also would guess that the terminology developed out of a desire not to step on the toes and belief systems of the indigenous peoples, but without abandoning the notion of a shaman- word-root for purposes of attraction and promotion. Word-deployment such as this gets to be manipulative, hence Michael's irritation. It's like the coiner of the term, while dismissive of those who would cobble together a "weekend spirituality" that strip-mines other cultures of their beloved practices to enclose them within parameters of "spiritainment" (shudder!), also attempts to appeal to these same spiritainment-seekers who may be lying to themselves about their spiritual practice. Sort of a hucksterish "we're different from them" approach designed to net some consumers along with the serious students.
Having read an autobiographical account of an actual shaman (Secrets of a Talking Jaguar by Martin Prechtel), I do see that an exquisite sensitivity and respect for more land-based cultures possesses paramount importance. People like Prechtel didn't ask to be shamans, and they slogged through what is ostensibly a training, internship, residency and then practice not at all unlike what allopathic doctors must endure. Within the Mayan culture Prechtel partook of, he functioned as a doctor/lawyer of the soul and spirit. Sometimes he wished the cup would be passed away from him. I'm deeply grateful to Mr. Prechtel for his book because it disabused me of the notion of wanting to be a shaman, much in the same way the notion to become a doctor evaporated once I followed one through the course of his day.
Still, in my meditations and journeys, I encounter animal figures and human guides who share with me insights into the incarnate experience I enact in these 3 dimensions. I suppose that makes me--shudder--a "Shamanist." I don't possess surety as to what it all means. The mask of Explorer covers my face as I gather information as to what my spirituality needs, what contours it inscribes. Other people's experiences and the reverence they bring with them into their lives tells me more about the nature of my own soul and spirit than anything else. I pick it up from all sorts of sources, some even Judeo-Christian. I sometimes joke that my "religion" is "Twicaltry". Take-What-I-Can-And-Leave-The-Rest-y. I have to tailor my spirituality to suit the contours of my soul, not try to shoehorn it into a prefab mold.
And perhaps my foray into neologism is itself an ego-move, though I recognize it's all kind of silly ultimately. Really what it comes down to is how do I work with others. Whether they get me or not is irrelevant--St. Francis of Assisi admonishes us to seek to understand rather than be understood in his awesome prayer. Language sometimes gets in the way of a truer understanding, but if I can sit with another's ego-moves and let them work themselves out, maybe even ask pointed and pertinent questions myself, the commonality will arise and a new point of agreement can be established. You say Shamanist, I say Shaman let's call the whole thing off...
Monday, June 28, 2004
Critical Thinking
I would like to facilitate a class or workshop on Critical Thinking. I'm not exactly sure how it would work, but I need to say one thing about Crit Think--it's not Critical Theory.
Critical Theory as I understand it, is a segment of Cultural Studies where scholars delve into the metanarratives underlying different works, or develop philosophies of patterns that exist in various subjective media. And objective media too, come to think of it, since so much of what passes for "objective" is merely bias dressed up to look like there's no slant whatsoever. I bypass calls for objectivity because I feel in my heart it's dishonest on some level.
Which leads to what critical thinking is. Theory is great and all, but rarely does Critical Theory lend itself to action. At best it lends itself to becoming part of an artist's style. I'm thinking of post-postmodern writers such as Acker, Tillman and Dennis Cooper. Theory is a huge part of their works, and it works for them. But Critical Thinking is not Critical Theory.
In a CritThink workshop, theories may be discussed, but ultimately it's about the three A's--awareness, acceptance and action. When I think of a workshop on Critical Thinking, what I'm wanting to do is provide a laboratory of honesty, open-mindedness and willingness to see from a different perspective whatever problematic area exists in our lives upon wich C.T. may be worked to one's benefit. I'm going from a book I read by Stephen Brookfield on Developing Critical Thinking in Adult Learners. (The title was something like that. I can look it up on Amazon at a future date.)
Critical Thinking incorporates all the various kinds of intelligences we have. It brings in our reasoning ability, to be sure, but also our emotional intelligence, our spiritual intelligence, our physical intelligence as well as the mental. Critical Thinking as I get it is meant to be a "whole foods" approach to facing difficulties and solving problems in our lives. Sometimes a plan of action will be mapped out, and other times it'll just be offering minor changes to approaches we might take, and at still other times, the upshot of a session might lead to someone seeking therapy or the outside viewpoint of a professional. Though hopefully someone who saw that as their next step wouldn't stop after that, and would come back to the workshop, willing to share info and tinker more with the tasks at hand.
I'm just sort of drawing out a general sketch of how I think it should work. But the key to critical thinking too is that it's opening up a dilemma to a group of people who are there to face their situations and share their courage with others. A person in a CT workshop would be opening themselves up to people asking very basic, maybe even "stupid" questions. But sometimes that stupid question turns out to be just what the person ordered.
One time I was in a workshop where people were talking about "The Lesiban and Gay Aesthetic." There was all sorts of theory and folderal happening there, but one ingenuous young man raised his hand, and asked the fundamental question "What's an 'aesthetic?'" The great thing is that no one laughed at the guy. But then several people talked about what it meant in very concrete ways that helped everyone in the room locate themselves in a context. The truth is we are always teaching others all the time, everywhere we go. I learn from the Bus Driver I saw hello to who drives the bus that will take me to work. I learn from the cashier I pay for my cashews and my banana. I am teaching the people I walk past as I head to a meeting or wander about without a care in the world. There's always opportunity for critical thinking and its applications to be tried and tested. I just would like to find a mode and a space to make it more conscious.
Critical Theory as I understand it, is a segment of Cultural Studies where scholars delve into the metanarratives underlying different works, or develop philosophies of patterns that exist in various subjective media. And objective media too, come to think of it, since so much of what passes for "objective" is merely bias dressed up to look like there's no slant whatsoever. I bypass calls for objectivity because I feel in my heart it's dishonest on some level.
Which leads to what critical thinking is. Theory is great and all, but rarely does Critical Theory lend itself to action. At best it lends itself to becoming part of an artist's style. I'm thinking of post-postmodern writers such as Acker, Tillman and Dennis Cooper. Theory is a huge part of their works, and it works for them. But Critical Thinking is not Critical Theory.
In a CritThink workshop, theories may be discussed, but ultimately it's about the three A's--awareness, acceptance and action. When I think of a workshop on Critical Thinking, what I'm wanting to do is provide a laboratory of honesty, open-mindedness and willingness to see from a different perspective whatever problematic area exists in our lives upon wich C.T. may be worked to one's benefit. I'm going from a book I read by Stephen Brookfield on Developing Critical Thinking in Adult Learners. (The title was something like that. I can look it up on Amazon at a future date.)
Critical Thinking incorporates all the various kinds of intelligences we have. It brings in our reasoning ability, to be sure, but also our emotional intelligence, our spiritual intelligence, our physical intelligence as well as the mental. Critical Thinking as I get it is meant to be a "whole foods" approach to facing difficulties and solving problems in our lives. Sometimes a plan of action will be mapped out, and other times it'll just be offering minor changes to approaches we might take, and at still other times, the upshot of a session might lead to someone seeking therapy or the outside viewpoint of a professional. Though hopefully someone who saw that as their next step wouldn't stop after that, and would come back to the workshop, willing to share info and tinker more with the tasks at hand.
I'm just sort of drawing out a general sketch of how I think it should work. But the key to critical thinking too is that it's opening up a dilemma to a group of people who are there to face their situations and share their courage with others. A person in a CT workshop would be opening themselves up to people asking very basic, maybe even "stupid" questions. But sometimes that stupid question turns out to be just what the person ordered.
One time I was in a workshop where people were talking about "The Lesiban and Gay Aesthetic." There was all sorts of theory and folderal happening there, but one ingenuous young man raised his hand, and asked the fundamental question "What's an 'aesthetic?'" The great thing is that no one laughed at the guy. But then several people talked about what it meant in very concrete ways that helped everyone in the room locate themselves in a context. The truth is we are always teaching others all the time, everywhere we go. I learn from the Bus Driver I saw hello to who drives the bus that will take me to work. I learn from the cashier I pay for my cashews and my banana. I am teaching the people I walk past as I head to a meeting or wander about without a care in the world. There's always opportunity for critical thinking and its applications to be tried and tested. I just would like to find a mode and a space to make it more conscious.
Night Shift
I work overnight, and my schedule from week to week allows me to have Tuesday & Wednesday nights off as my weekend. I also take every other Thursday off as I work 46 hours each week I do the Thurs-Mon routine. Working the night shift has its obvious minuses--isolation, feeling out of synch with the rest of the world. But the Night Shift does have some nice advantages.
"Day People" are for the most part political critters. Night Folk for the most part won't be liquid papering our names on staplers or declaring a cubicle to be "ours" even when we share it across shifts. Third Shift people at law firms seem to be pretty much independent, self-starters, mavericks even. We know we're there to do a job and we don't make our jobs into our lives. Lots of us who work third are artists, have other businesses, or fill our diurnal lives with other possibilities that we wouldn't be able to do if we worked the mainstream shift.
Personally, I think 2nd Shift is harder. I used to work a second shift at another firm, which I think liked to take newcomers to the legal field because the vibe of the place was vampiric. (Footnote/sidebar: Some night shift folk like to use the word "vampire" to describe ourselves b/c the bloodsuckers are creatures of the night. I personally don't like that word to describe us because the way I use the word "cunt" is the onomatopoetic sound they make when the fangs go into the flesh of their prey, and then the metonymic application thereof so that "cunts" act as a stand-in for "vampires" like "grunts" can mean laborers. Also I don't have the cunt politics of say a Dick Cheney or a Cuntonin Scalia. Talk about vampires!) It's pretty clear to me that nice people start out as associates at law factories, then they slowly turn into scary people who have to put up with a lot of abuse, not only from the partners and the loathesome clients, but also from their peers who come into the fray in a manner not unlike what happens with pledges and fraternity hazings. As a word processor in this toxic environment, I was deemed pretty low on the totem pole, though to some not quite the lowest. I always felt like I was being fed to the wolves.
2nd Shift at a law firm deals with the pressures of Fed-Ex cut-offs. That's the shift that always feels like it's running up against the clock. First shift can feel that way in a cyclical pattern, but with Second it's neverending. Third Shift seems to be a shift where the time can flow out generously. There's nothing quite like having a huge Offering Memorandum with lots of changes and 8 whole hours to get it done, get it to Proofreading and then back in for corrections until the doc is done. Third Shift is expansive that way.
There was no Third Shift at the previous firm. Second shift there and at other firms seems to me to be the most difficult shift, not only within the culture of the company but also extending out into the sphere of my life. It literally shut my life down. At least with graveyard, I have some socializing options, but with 2nd Shift, I was getting up when people were working, I was working when people were socializing, and getting off work when people were either going to bed or in various states of inebriation on the weekends. Later I found out from a nurse who's worked the various shifts in the hospitals, that the 2nd Shift was the "Drunk Shift" and the Third Shift was the "Compulsive Eating Shift." I think that's also probably true of law firms, though not of the one I work at presently. As for the other one, I didn't stay there long enough to give that a thorough vetting.
With these benefits, the real question is do I wish for this lifestyle to continue on for the rest of my days? No, obviously, I don't. The gift/curse of the human being is that we can acclimate ourselves to all sorts of situations. I'm now in a stage where it's important I don't isolate anymore. I need to get out into the world and be a bigger part of it. Perhaps this is a counterintuitive way to do it--I'm still by myself, typing these words into a computer, at 3:40 a.m. or so. Gotta have faith. My friends, sponsors, and spirit guides are all counseling me to mix it up a lot more. One day I'll have a diurnal life again. But this is the way it is for now.
And of course, I'll have a lot more to say later.
"Day People" are for the most part political critters. Night Folk for the most part won't be liquid papering our names on staplers or declaring a cubicle to be "ours" even when we share it across shifts. Third Shift people at law firms seem to be pretty much independent, self-starters, mavericks even. We know we're there to do a job and we don't make our jobs into our lives. Lots of us who work third are artists, have other businesses, or fill our diurnal lives with other possibilities that we wouldn't be able to do if we worked the mainstream shift.
Personally, I think 2nd Shift is harder. I used to work a second shift at another firm, which I think liked to take newcomers to the legal field because the vibe of the place was vampiric. (Footnote/sidebar: Some night shift folk like to use the word "vampire" to describe ourselves b/c the bloodsuckers are creatures of the night. I personally don't like that word to describe us because the way I use the word "cunt" is the onomatopoetic sound they make when the fangs go into the flesh of their prey, and then the metonymic application thereof so that "cunts" act as a stand-in for "vampires" like "grunts" can mean laborers. Also I don't have the cunt politics of say a Dick Cheney or a Cuntonin Scalia. Talk about vampires!) It's pretty clear to me that nice people start out as associates at law factories, then they slowly turn into scary people who have to put up with a lot of abuse, not only from the partners and the loathesome clients, but also from their peers who come into the fray in a manner not unlike what happens with pledges and fraternity hazings. As a word processor in this toxic environment, I was deemed pretty low on the totem pole, though to some not quite the lowest. I always felt like I was being fed to the wolves.
2nd Shift at a law firm deals with the pressures of Fed-Ex cut-offs. That's the shift that always feels like it's running up against the clock. First shift can feel that way in a cyclical pattern, but with Second it's neverending. Third Shift seems to be a shift where the time can flow out generously. There's nothing quite like having a huge Offering Memorandum with lots of changes and 8 whole hours to get it done, get it to Proofreading and then back in for corrections until the doc is done. Third Shift is expansive that way.
There was no Third Shift at the previous firm. Second shift there and at other firms seems to me to be the most difficult shift, not only within the culture of the company but also extending out into the sphere of my life. It literally shut my life down. At least with graveyard, I have some socializing options, but with 2nd Shift, I was getting up when people were working, I was working when people were socializing, and getting off work when people were either going to bed or in various states of inebriation on the weekends. Later I found out from a nurse who's worked the various shifts in the hospitals, that the 2nd Shift was the "Drunk Shift" and the Third Shift was the "Compulsive Eating Shift." I think that's also probably true of law firms, though not of the one I work at presently. As for the other one, I didn't stay there long enough to give that a thorough vetting.
With these benefits, the real question is do I wish for this lifestyle to continue on for the rest of my days? No, obviously, I don't. The gift/curse of the human being is that we can acclimate ourselves to all sorts of situations. I'm now in a stage where it's important I don't isolate anymore. I need to get out into the world and be a bigger part of it. Perhaps this is a counterintuitive way to do it--I'm still by myself, typing these words into a computer, at 3:40 a.m. or so. Gotta have faith. My friends, sponsors, and spirit guides are all counseling me to mix it up a lot more. One day I'll have a diurnal life again. But this is the way it is for now.
And of course, I'll have a lot more to say later.
Sunday, June 27, 2004
The Rapture/Ascension
This is probably a guilty pleasure and a distraction on my part, but I love to read these New Age Websites talking about how these are the times that the prophets have been talking about. I love to read these things because they sort of help me be grateful for the life I have.
Some of them counsel us to "do nothing and wait for the ascension." I don't know. I feel that I need to care for this amazing planet I have incarnated on. Living in New York City, I'm not sure exactly how best to do that. I've been thinking I should git on out of ol' Nooyawk. But I must say that this past spring was the most gorgeous I'd ever seen.
Perhaps it arises solely from my getting abstinent from sugar and flour, or maybe it's because I turned 40 a few months ago, but I have become alive to seasonal changes. I've even become alive to the cross-quarter times of Imbolc (Feb. 2), Beltane (May 1), Lammas (August 1) and Halloween. I actually feel those times are the emotional and psychic beginnings of spring, summer, fall and winter respectively. This would explain why the Solstices and Equinoxes are referred to as midseasonal. (Midsummer = Summer Solstice.)
Of course it's affected my attention to food choices. I'm eating summer foods now--summer squash & purslane amongst other choices. I miss some of the fall/winter foods such as winter squash, root vegetables and Brussels sprouts. But the seasons do offer different choices.
Anyway, to return to the Rapture/Ascension: It's come to my attention that meditation actually gets our bodies and brains to "vibrate at a higher frequency." Wayne Dyer talks of this in a couple of his books. Theoretically I would surmise it's possible that the vibrations could take us beyond the third dimension? I have become very open to multidimensionality because of my change in eating and my new focus on things spiritual.
Even so, I figure that paying attention to others is also key, because I'm also informed that studies show that when someone gives another person service, not only do the serotonin levels of the server and the served rise, but so too do the serotonin levels of observers. One time a friend suggested a way to get out of a funk would be to go to a deli, buy a flower and give it to the first person I saw. I did this, and the result was an amazing lift in my mood. I now look for all sorts of opportunities to be useful, even if all it is is talking to the trees. (They like it when we notice them.)
(I posted this already but I realized I probably have more to say about this topic. So to be continued. . .
Some of them counsel us to "do nothing and wait for the ascension." I don't know. I feel that I need to care for this amazing planet I have incarnated on. Living in New York City, I'm not sure exactly how best to do that. I've been thinking I should git on out of ol' Nooyawk. But I must say that this past spring was the most gorgeous I'd ever seen.
Perhaps it arises solely from my getting abstinent from sugar and flour, or maybe it's because I turned 40 a few months ago, but I have become alive to seasonal changes. I've even become alive to the cross-quarter times of Imbolc (Feb. 2), Beltane (May 1), Lammas (August 1) and Halloween. I actually feel those times are the emotional and psychic beginnings of spring, summer, fall and winter respectively. This would explain why the Solstices and Equinoxes are referred to as midseasonal. (Midsummer = Summer Solstice.)
Of course it's affected my attention to food choices. I'm eating summer foods now--summer squash & purslane amongst other choices. I miss some of the fall/winter foods such as winter squash, root vegetables and Brussels sprouts. But the seasons do offer different choices.
Anyway, to return to the Rapture/Ascension: It's come to my attention that meditation actually gets our bodies and brains to "vibrate at a higher frequency." Wayne Dyer talks of this in a couple of his books. Theoretically I would surmise it's possible that the vibrations could take us beyond the third dimension? I have become very open to multidimensionality because of my change in eating and my new focus on things spiritual.
Even so, I figure that paying attention to others is also key, because I'm also informed that studies show that when someone gives another person service, not only do the serotonin levels of the server and the served rise, but so too do the serotonin levels of observers. One time a friend suggested a way to get out of a funk would be to go to a deli, buy a flower and give it to the first person I saw. I did this, and the result was an amazing lift in my mood. I now look for all sorts of opportunities to be useful, even if all it is is talking to the trees. (They like it when we notice them.)
(I posted this already but I realized I probably have more to say about this topic. So to be continued. . .
Recipe: Lentil-Bentlz
This is a "maintenance" dish that can be altered depending upon one's protein and grain allowances. When this dish is done, it looks like a "faux" shepherd's pie. All vegetarian too!
1/4 c. rinsed uncooked millet
1c. cauliflower
3-1/3c. water
1/2c. turnips
1/2c. carrots
1c. Brussels sprouts or string beans
1/3c. red lentils
1 oz. cheese
1/2 c. salsa
1 pinch cumin
1 dash garlic pepper
1 dash chili powder
1/2 tsp. ume plum vinegar
1 inch kombu
1 bay leaf
Other spices to taste
1 tsp. butter
salt & pepper
Preheat oven to 425.
Bring rinsed millet, cauliflower and 1-2/3c. water to boil. Reduce heat and cover. Simmer for 25-30 minutes.
Bring 1-2/3c. water to boil in second pot. Add bay leaf, kombu and all the spices listed above and others to personal taste to water. Once it boils, add the red lentils. Bring to second boil, and reduce heat. Cook for 15-20 minutes until soft.
On cookie sheet place the turnips, carrots and sprouts or beans. Spray cooking oil on vegetables and spice to taste. Put into oven and roast for 10-12 minutes or until crispy on edges.
Once vegetables are done, transfer to serving bowl. Add red lentils. Add cheese and salsa and stir. When millet-cauliflower mixture is done, mash then dollop onto the lentil-vegetable mixture as a crust. Spoon butter over the millet-cauliflower and salt & pepper to taste.
Serves one.
Exchanges:
1 grain
1-1/2 protein
3 vegetable
1/2 c. salsa (condiment)
1/4 c. rinsed uncooked millet
1c. cauliflower
3-1/3c. water
1/2c. turnips
1/2c. carrots
1c. Brussels sprouts or string beans
1/3c. red lentils
1 oz. cheese
1/2 c. salsa
1 pinch cumin
1 dash garlic pepper
1 dash chili powder
1/2 tsp. ume plum vinegar
1 inch kombu
1 bay leaf
Other spices to taste
1 tsp. butter
salt & pepper
Preheat oven to 425.
Bring rinsed millet, cauliflower and 1-2/3c. water to boil. Reduce heat and cover. Simmer for 25-30 minutes.
Bring 1-2/3c. water to boil in second pot. Add bay leaf, kombu and all the spices listed above and others to personal taste to water. Once it boils, add the red lentils. Bring to second boil, and reduce heat. Cook for 15-20 minutes until soft.
On cookie sheet place the turnips, carrots and sprouts or beans. Spray cooking oil on vegetables and spice to taste. Put into oven and roast for 10-12 minutes or until crispy on edges.
Once vegetables are done, transfer to serving bowl. Add red lentils. Add cheese and salsa and stir. When millet-cauliflower mixture is done, mash then dollop onto the lentil-vegetable mixture as a crust. Spoon butter over the millet-cauliflower and salt & pepper to taste.
Serves one.
Exchanges:
1 grain
1-1/2 protein
3 vegetable
1/2 c. salsa (condiment)
Homophobia--mild versus recalcitrant
I recently read a Dan Savage column in Le Voix du Village where someone had written in about their crazy uncle who had yet another reason to hate gay people. The reason was so ludicrous and easily disproven that the writer had sought Dan's expert advise about what to do, to which Savage replied in essence, why waste your time? That this man is going to continue to hate gay people because of his fear of anal sex, regardless of the fact that not all gay men engage in the practice, so write the cunt off. (I paraphrase.)
I've been thinking about the variations on homophobia that exist in the populace. I see that it's a constantly mutating cancer actually, and one I'm not liable to stomp out any time soon. There are those of course, who are unthinkingly parroting what others say and all it takes is asking a well-timed "you really think that?" to get them to cogitate toward enlightenment. Others only need to get to know a couple of gay men and lesbians and that does it. They see we're just like them and struggling and that some of us will be trustworthy and others not. But I got to thinking about some of the homophobic people in my life today, and wonder about whether they are total losses or not.
(Btw, this is in process. The things I write here may be modified in the future--this is critical thinking at work. Please feel free to point out biases I may have, though the more obvious ones I probably won't do anything about. It's the subtle ones I'm curious to see in the light of awareness.)
For the most part, I agree with Dan Savage about the recalcitrant ones whose attachment to their fear is greater than their ability to live honestly in the world. The Big Book of AA refers to a certain class of alcoholics similarly in the clutches of something larger than they are as ones "who seem to have been born that way, they are not at fault, they are incapable of grasping a way of life that demands rigorous honesty."
Homophobia is an illness of similar proportions. It does shut down people's lives to be afraid to be thought of as gay. I know a handful of straight fellows who are most times flattered when a gay man indicates interest in them. To shut that side off, one really has to be crazy. I mean, I like it when women flirt with me, even though I'm hotter for the humpy dudes. It's nice to have someone take an interest in me regardless of whether I return the interest or not.
The homophobic cancer works by attempting to fob off sick state onto me as a scapegoat-host. It requires my participation, which is why people who simply won't be bullied because of their same-sex affectional orientation infuriates them. Their cancer can only work in an atmosphere of self-hatred. Ironically, their attempts to "shine the light" on our so-called depravity end up shining the light on their delusions which then have to keep mutating into other forms in order to survive. The uncle in Savage's column pointed to gay men and colostomy bags, trying of course to link anal sex with disease. Brilliant in its own fashion, but more revealing of this uncle guy. One abverfickt individual to be sure. Just one among many.
When I came out 22 years ago, my Dad said, "You know what happens to those people? They get strung out on drugs, they sell their bodies and they get killed--that the future you want?" I knew when I heard him say that, that he was in the grips of something really powerful. And for him to say that to his own son, he had to be pretty far gone. For my mother to say "We'll disown you because we love you, so you can leave with the clothes on your back," she must have really had a disease. And the illness works in such a way that now my parents have no recollection of this happening. Because they'd have to admit they were crazy, then wouldn't they? Can't do that, oh no...
I guess what I ultimately want to say about the fellow whose uncle is off-the-deep-end (OTDE anyone?), is yes, let the fellow go, but it's not the nephew's fault. He didn't cause homophobia, he can't cure it, and he can't control it. In many cases it's eradicated by education, but in others that's only a bandaid. Ultmately, the disease will isolate them. It seeks an ever narrower world.
I've been thinking about the variations on homophobia that exist in the populace. I see that it's a constantly mutating cancer actually, and one I'm not liable to stomp out any time soon. There are those of course, who are unthinkingly parroting what others say and all it takes is asking a well-timed "you really think that?" to get them to cogitate toward enlightenment. Others only need to get to know a couple of gay men and lesbians and that does it. They see we're just like them and struggling and that some of us will be trustworthy and others not. But I got to thinking about some of the homophobic people in my life today, and wonder about whether they are total losses or not.
(Btw, this is in process. The things I write here may be modified in the future--this is critical thinking at work. Please feel free to point out biases I may have, though the more obvious ones I probably won't do anything about. It's the subtle ones I'm curious to see in the light of awareness.)
For the most part, I agree with Dan Savage about the recalcitrant ones whose attachment to their fear is greater than their ability to live honestly in the world. The Big Book of AA refers to a certain class of alcoholics similarly in the clutches of something larger than they are as ones "who seem to have been born that way, they are not at fault, they are incapable of grasping a way of life that demands rigorous honesty."
Homophobia is an illness of similar proportions. It does shut down people's lives to be afraid to be thought of as gay. I know a handful of straight fellows who are most times flattered when a gay man indicates interest in them. To shut that side off, one really has to be crazy. I mean, I like it when women flirt with me, even though I'm hotter for the humpy dudes. It's nice to have someone take an interest in me regardless of whether I return the interest or not.
The homophobic cancer works by attempting to fob off sick state onto me as a scapegoat-host. It requires my participation, which is why people who simply won't be bullied because of their same-sex affectional orientation infuriates them. Their cancer can only work in an atmosphere of self-hatred. Ironically, their attempts to "shine the light" on our so-called depravity end up shining the light on their delusions which then have to keep mutating into other forms in order to survive. The uncle in Savage's column pointed to gay men and colostomy bags, trying of course to link anal sex with disease. Brilliant in its own fashion, but more revealing of this uncle guy. One abverfickt individual to be sure. Just one among many.
When I came out 22 years ago, my Dad said, "You know what happens to those people? They get strung out on drugs, they sell their bodies and they get killed--that the future you want?" I knew when I heard him say that, that he was in the grips of something really powerful. And for him to say that to his own son, he had to be pretty far gone. For my mother to say "We'll disown you because we love you, so you can leave with the clothes on your back," she must have really had a disease. And the illness works in such a way that now my parents have no recollection of this happening. Because they'd have to admit they were crazy, then wouldn't they? Can't do that, oh no...
I guess what I ultimately want to say about the fellow whose uncle is off-the-deep-end (OTDE anyone?), is yes, let the fellow go, but it's not the nephew's fault. He didn't cause homophobia, he can't cure it, and he can't control it. In many cases it's eradicated by education, but in others that's only a bandaid. Ultmately, the disease will isolate them. It seeks an ever narrower world.
O.B. City: Observations on Obesity #1
“Comfort food” and “taking our comfort” reminiscent of toilet paper, “comfortable shoes”, recliners, cushy chairs and sofas, fluffy beds, down parkas, comforters. All this floofah fwaffing! And yet we despise that fwafféd physique, except in the areas of the ass and the (maternal) breast.
***
Aristotle counseled that the obese individual should strip down to their birthday suit and take the air of the city. The patient should go naked in the agora, perhaps to shame the bastard into losing weight? Is that the purpose? If thus, then “Aristotle” appears to be Greek for “prescriptive, smug-ass, know-it-all, vicious cuntface.”
***
O. B. City: As with other addictions, it is a family disease. I am the alcoholic, compulsive eating son of a drinking dad and an eating mother. The food and the booze were there to cure our familial structure of the need to isolate, to defy our human instinct for closeness, intimacy, simple human touch, to magnify our individual separations from one another behind that closed front door, as well as dividing our family from the rest of humanity. As we tried to participate in the world outside the front door, the fat members of the family not only were constantly reminded that something was wrong, were constant reminders in their physicality that something was amiss, so too were the Height-Weight-Proportionate members of the family. They were as fully implicated, if only to offer contrast, and were just as suspect as being the source of the illness as were we fatties.
***
A social disease, O. B. City, perhaps borne by food itself as it has been altered, distorted, reduced, fortified, futzed with, tampered with to be more “attractive” to “consumers” as the corp(se)orations cut nutrition for efficiency, costs for profit and humanity in general because it just isn’t “sleek”, “lean” or “cool as death itself, dude.” Fat people exists because human bodies are not getting the right nutrition from these “foods” which are nonsensical, non-nutritive and highly caloric and addictive; because profits also extend to the medical and pharmaceutical industries as well as Jenny Craig and the like; and because the leanness and meanness that the civilized wish to cultivate is never the whole of the story. That which is “cut-out” doesn’t disappear—it gets hidden, in this case in plain sight, and in proliferation. O. B. City becomes ever bigger, especially as the classes divide and the poorer classes “eat up” the “food” foisted upon them by their socioeconomic superiors. O. B. City — the end-result of colonialism by dietary means.
***
Aristotle counseled that the obese individual should strip down to their birthday suit and take the air of the city. The patient should go naked in the agora, perhaps to shame the bastard into losing weight? Is that the purpose? If thus, then “Aristotle” appears to be Greek for “prescriptive, smug-ass, know-it-all, vicious cuntface.”
***
O. B. City: As with other addictions, it is a family disease. I am the alcoholic, compulsive eating son of a drinking dad and an eating mother. The food and the booze were there to cure our familial structure of the need to isolate, to defy our human instinct for closeness, intimacy, simple human touch, to magnify our individual separations from one another behind that closed front door, as well as dividing our family from the rest of humanity. As we tried to participate in the world outside the front door, the fat members of the family not only were constantly reminded that something was wrong, were constant reminders in their physicality that something was amiss, so too were the Height-Weight-Proportionate members of the family. They were as fully implicated, if only to offer contrast, and were just as suspect as being the source of the illness as were we fatties.
***
A social disease, O. B. City, perhaps borne by food itself as it has been altered, distorted, reduced, fortified, futzed with, tampered with to be more “attractive” to “consumers” as the corp(se)orations cut nutrition for efficiency, costs for profit and humanity in general because it just isn’t “sleek”, “lean” or “cool as death itself, dude.” Fat people exists because human bodies are not getting the right nutrition from these “foods” which are nonsensical, non-nutritive and highly caloric and addictive; because profits also extend to the medical and pharmaceutical industries as well as Jenny Craig and the like; and because the leanness and meanness that the civilized wish to cultivate is never the whole of the story. That which is “cut-out” doesn’t disappear—it gets hidden, in this case in plain sight, and in proliferation. O. B. City becomes ever bigger, especially as the classes divide and the poorer classes “eat up” the “food” foisted upon them by their socioeconomic superiors. O. B. City — the end-result of colonialism by dietary means.
A future post
I'll have a long post coming in the near future, I hope regarding an amends I need to make to this ol' country I live in. I was working on it and I realized I need to run it by a few people first before I actually publish it. The 9th Step of AA's 12 Steps reads "Made direct amends to such people [as we have harmed], except when to do so would injure them or others." I have a lot of confusions regarding America and Americans on the one hand, and my July 4th born Daddles on the other. That is what I owe an amends for, but the actual details I need to refine and make sure I'm taking responsibility for my own actions rather than adding more unnecessary pain to the mix.
My sense is that there are a lot of people in a similar boat to mine, though perhaps not as shrouded in alcoholic "logic." We all probably know people whose political passions obscure their vision of what is of value in others of different ideas. We all have a little bit of the reactionary and the radical inside us--that oceanically violent urge "to kill them all and let God sort 'em out" idea. That sort of indiscriminate view excuses way too much in ourselves to be justified. That sort of thinking I must dispense with and take each person as they come. Understand that each person has a lesson for me. But more to come on this later...
My sense is that there are a lot of people in a similar boat to mine, though perhaps not as shrouded in alcoholic "logic." We all probably know people whose political passions obscure their vision of what is of value in others of different ideas. We all have a little bit of the reactionary and the radical inside us--that oceanically violent urge "to kill them all and let God sort 'em out" idea. That sort of indiscriminate view excuses way too much in ourselves to be justified. That sort of thinking I must dispense with and take each person as they come. Understand that each person has a lesson for me. But more to come on this later...
Saturday, June 26, 2004
Initial Post
Welcome to The Disappearing Chef, a blog about food and stuff!
One thing I didn't say in my profile which I will probably edit at some future date: I used to be 297 pounds at my top weight in January 2003, and am now a very proud 183! I have been maintaining this weight loss for 10 months now. During the course of that time, I discovered that food really does have healing properties, so I'll be posting a lot about my observations of living a sugar- and flour-free life.
That's right! I've not knowingly eaten any product where broken white powders were among the first five ingredients. I didn't do this alone, and it's required a huge amount of surrender. I needed to hit bottom first. One day I told a room full of friends that I imagined myself dead. I wasn't sure how I was going to get there, but I saw myself in the casket and mourners filing by saying "Oh, Richard I'm so sorry, I hope you're in a better place," etc. I was tired of hauling my overweight body around everywhere, feeling it in every joint and pushing my lungs and heart to the limit. Climbing a flight of stairs gave me shortness of breath, and forget attracting any boyfriends!
So I was ready to surrender. This is one thing I'll be writing posts about.
Another thing is life after civilization. For the time being, I subscribe to the ideas of Daniel Quinn of Ishmael fame. The idea that our totalitarian-agriculture-based society hasn't worked and furthermore never really worked the way we thought it should. Personally, I feel in my gut that the first person who decided to lock up the food so the rest of humanity would work for her was most likely a flour addict. So much of what I see as civilization's dementia looks like addiction to me. In fact, I've toyed with the idea that perhaps addiction is a synonym for civilization itself, at least as Quinn eloquently describes in his books. (The most successful of his is Beyond Civilization IMHO.) So I'll be posting about this as well.
That can't help but raise a whole host of other issues--religion, spirituality, politics, etc. There's a lot of other stuff out there I will probably link to as well, but one thing at a time--I need to learn how to operate this system. And resist the temptation to post every little idea that comes into my head.
One other area I will hope to publish observations about from time to time is the area of critical thinking. I'm not talking about strictly logic here, though folks. Critical Thinking is a whole-brain approach. The gut is involved in the process too, as are emotions. I'm going from Stephen Brookfield's understanding of the concept. A merely logical approach leaves me feeling undernourished. With merely using logic, it's like I'm looking for Thanksgiving Dinner and all I'm getting is the half cup of potato with a teaspoon of butter. I want the turkey and the veggies and a bit of squapple pudding (my recipe which I will share at a future date), not to mention the nuts and the dressing.
There's more to be sure. My interests are a moving target. I would have never guessed I'd be fascinated by the Mayan Calendar and all things Mayan. I've been writing plays for about 25 years now, and since reading about this Mesoamerican culture I've discovered that in many ways some Mayan wisdom and words are coming through my pen. In a few weeks time I might be on to something else.
I need to treat as an experiment. I don't actually know all of what I will be posting, though I am always having ideas about things that I don't necessarily share. It's difficult for me sometimes too because I work the night shift. Night Shift people are very different from "Day People." For one thing, we have to be a lot more independent. Very few of us on this shift are not self-starters. I can only speak for myself on this score, however--I have an ambivalent relationship to isolation and solitude. I work at a job where we don't have to isolate, but I sense that many of us sort of fall into a sense that the cubicles we sit at have closed doors if on an imaginal level.
So anyway, that's it for the moment. I may post something even later today. I've noticed that people do that. My inspirations for now come from Talking Points Memo, Gay Spirituality and other political, spiritual and astrological blogs. Who knows where this will go? So. This is just a beginning.
One thing I didn't say in my profile which I will probably edit at some future date: I used to be 297 pounds at my top weight in January 2003, and am now a very proud 183! I have been maintaining this weight loss for 10 months now. During the course of that time, I discovered that food really does have healing properties, so I'll be posting a lot about my observations of living a sugar- and flour-free life.
That's right! I've not knowingly eaten any product where broken white powders were among the first five ingredients. I didn't do this alone, and it's required a huge amount of surrender. I needed to hit bottom first. One day I told a room full of friends that I imagined myself dead. I wasn't sure how I was going to get there, but I saw myself in the casket and mourners filing by saying "Oh, Richard I'm so sorry, I hope you're in a better place," etc. I was tired of hauling my overweight body around everywhere, feeling it in every joint and pushing my lungs and heart to the limit. Climbing a flight of stairs gave me shortness of breath, and forget attracting any boyfriends!
So I was ready to surrender. This is one thing I'll be writing posts about.
Another thing is life after civilization. For the time being, I subscribe to the ideas of Daniel Quinn of Ishmael fame. The idea that our totalitarian-agriculture-based society hasn't worked and furthermore never really worked the way we thought it should. Personally, I feel in my gut that the first person who decided to lock up the food so the rest of humanity would work for her was most likely a flour addict. So much of what I see as civilization's dementia looks like addiction to me. In fact, I've toyed with the idea that perhaps addiction is a synonym for civilization itself, at least as Quinn eloquently describes in his books. (The most successful of his is Beyond Civilization IMHO.) So I'll be posting about this as well.
That can't help but raise a whole host of other issues--religion, spirituality, politics, etc. There's a lot of other stuff out there I will probably link to as well, but one thing at a time--I need to learn how to operate this system. And resist the temptation to post every little idea that comes into my head.
One other area I will hope to publish observations about from time to time is the area of critical thinking. I'm not talking about strictly logic here, though folks. Critical Thinking is a whole-brain approach. The gut is involved in the process too, as are emotions. I'm going from Stephen Brookfield's understanding of the concept. A merely logical approach leaves me feeling undernourished. With merely using logic, it's like I'm looking for Thanksgiving Dinner and all I'm getting is the half cup of potato with a teaspoon of butter. I want the turkey and the veggies and a bit of squapple pudding (my recipe which I will share at a future date), not to mention the nuts and the dressing.
There's more to be sure. My interests are a moving target. I would have never guessed I'd be fascinated by the Mayan Calendar and all things Mayan. I've been writing plays for about 25 years now, and since reading about this Mesoamerican culture I've discovered that in many ways some Mayan wisdom and words are coming through my pen. In a few weeks time I might be on to something else.
I need to treat as an experiment. I don't actually know all of what I will be posting, though I am always having ideas about things that I don't necessarily share. It's difficult for me sometimes too because I work the night shift. Night Shift people are very different from "Day People." For one thing, we have to be a lot more independent. Very few of us on this shift are not self-starters. I can only speak for myself on this score, however--I have an ambivalent relationship to isolation and solitude. I work at a job where we don't have to isolate, but I sense that many of us sort of fall into a sense that the cubicles we sit at have closed doors if on an imaginal level.
So anyway, that's it for the moment. I may post something even later today. I've noticed that people do that. My inspirations for now come from Talking Points Memo, Gay Spirituality and other political, spiritual and astrological blogs. Who knows where this will go? So. This is just a beginning.
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