How do artists face set backs?  By creating, using their imagination and desire to create.  I think that’s the nature of an artist anyhow regardless of whether or not the she is sailing a calm sea with the sails full and the prow pointing closer and closer to her destination; or ferocious winds and choppy waves threaten to sink her ship of dreams – the artist will prevail until she has exhausted all possibilities . 

 A film maker,  I know, is working on his third short film.  It is his biggest project to date and he has poured all of his energy and talent into realizing his dream.   I helped out on the first day of filming, and I recognized the auspiciousness of the event, because he had shared with me the setbacks he had faced on his ongoing journey.  He was financing the whole thing, and there had been multiple delays and each one was adding more cost to the production.

The first setback was a fraud by a contractor he hired to build the set.  Dave paid a down payment with a check.  A few days before the beginning of the  first day of shooting the man called Dave and asked for another check.  He explained that the first check Dave wrote was post dated, neither men  had not noticed the mistake.  Dave gave the man another check, unaware that the first check had already been deposited and the bank had cleared it – despite the post date.   The contractor was now paid in full, but a set had not yet been built.  With the close proximity of the first day of the shoot, Dave had to cancel everything, and file a small claims court to get his money back. 

 A week later Dave told me he had reworked his plan.  He got a loan from the bank, found a new location, a new crew to build the set, created a new schedule.  He looked hopeful and happy; and I was excited for him.  I got in touch with his producer to find out how I can chip in with the purpose of learning and contributing to the process.  My first contribution was to bring coffee for the crew of 16 people.  Friday night, at the figurative “11th hour” there was a phone call from the main lead actor, the night before the first day of the shoot.  The lead actor told Dave that he’s pulling out of the movie, because he got a better offer for a bigger part for another opportunity.  What makes it more bizarre is he called at 11 o’clock at night so it was literally the “11th hour”.  Do people really do  that? I wondered, then upon further thought I decided that this sort of thing DOES happen.   People have been stood up at the altar while guests and family  wonder when the ceremony is going to start.

 I told Dave that it seems when we’re on the right path the gods have this funny way of testing us to see if he was  worthy of the hero’s journey.   They had thrown obstacles in his way to test his will, his resourcefulness, his faith.  Whether or not those words helped him pick himself up and step further into unknown, and probably treacherous territory. 

 Within days another actor was hired; further adjustments were made to the schedule, and finally, yes finally we were on the set.  It was well designed for the film noir genre set in the 40’s.  The space is a renovated warehouse in the San Pedro district.  The makeup artist and the costume designer had set up a make shift office in one of the restrooms.  The other restroom had to be shared by both men and women.  We didn’t care.  We were happy to just be present and to play and create.  Everyone was chipping in to make it happen.  I discovered I have the mechanical skill to adjust the chain links of an old fashioned wristwatch.  “Technical” and “mechanical” tasks had always daunted me, because I’m like a bull in a china shop when it comes to those things but I was fearless this time.  I tacked the task and was able to fit the fake gold watch on the leading actor’s fine-boned wrist.

 The set was ready, the makeup was flawless and the hair was coiffed.  The actors were taped up with the mikes and then Dave let everyone know that he doesn’t use the word “action”.  He doesn’t like the word, because… he never did explain; but just said he’ll say ‘go’. 

 ‘Go’ it went.  After a few rehearsals the camera rolled.  I observed Dave’s style as he communicated clearly without hesitation the what and the how of the scenes to everyone.  It was as if he had played the situation in his head a million times over and he can detect the minute differences between his vision and what he saw played out.  He made adjustments quickly then moved on.   

Later in the evening I got home from a walk with the dog; there was a voicemail from Dave.  He said, ‘don’t know if you heard, but we got shut down today.  The production has been stopped because the Fire Marshal said the building is not up to code.”  Questions fired in my head, but I held them in check as I listened to Dave lament the situation.  How can he go on?   What more can be thrown into this pyre of drama?  While he talked I wondered what consolation can I offer Dave and to encourage him to go on.  Even I was at a loss, and dumbfounded with his news. 

Though he was willing to buy the fire permit (a cost of $700) it would be moot, because the building is on a fire watch.  The other alternative to continue filming in the same location is to pay the city $65 per hour to have a Fire Marshall present during the entire production.  He couldn’t afford it.

 I could only advice him not to make any decisions without giving himself a chance to rest.  Sleep on it I told him.  We drew out the conversation between regaling the previous setbacks and this new one.  As we hashed out the events I began to hear him speak of new ideas, though woven in and out of the hope were some voices of doubt, fear and fatigue.  Before we hung up he had spoken powerful words:  “I know I can do this.”  “There were some amazing footages I can use.”  “Did you see the amazing footages?”  “It’s a great feeling to see everyone pour themselves into this.”   I know that those words has been planted in his subconscious which will help him go on. 

His journey in itself is the worthy of a good drama full of surreal images like a strange dream.  Where did all these people come from and what does it mean?  Who invited these ghosts, monsters, angels and fairies?  The gods have a way of insinuating a fuller drama into the situation by putting the hero into more peril than he had ever imagined.  It’s perhaps their way of bringing out the best creation from the artist.

The epiphany came to me last night at 4 o’clock in the morning.  I had a restless sleep for many reasons including knowing that the first part of the blog was not yet developed, and I didn’t yet have a clue what Part 2 is all about.  I do know it’s something to do with the human condition.

The exploration really began when I started to take in the words of Joseph Campbell in his book, “The Power of Myth”.  His language based on Jung’s archetypes led me to the Carol S. Pearson’s book, “The Hero Within”.  I finally finished the chapter on the Martyr archetype, and it was the one chapter I was avoiding.  I had a resistance to this archetype because it screamed “Mother!” to me.  I don’t think I need to explain, but I will say that I’m not a mother so I wouldn’t fully know the self-sacrifice that mothers do for the love of their off-springs.  However, I am aware of my repulsion towards the needless sacrifice when it hurts the person who gives so much of themself.  The words, “I don’t want to be part of it” are conjured up from my whole being.

I read through the chapter as though I was watching a horror movie, like the first time I saw “The Exorcist”.  I would squeeze my eyes shut and cover my ears during parts of the movie I couldn’t stomach in.  I didn’t want to absorb any of it at any level.  But I knew that I already had done this when my reaction was to run away and pretend it does not exist.  It does exist, otherwise I wouldn’t have built this resistance to it.

So I faced the words and my legs were trudging through the tar sands.  “Ahh, this is soooo painfully slow.”  It took me longer than it should have to finish the chapter as I found “necessary” distractions (food, coffee, walk the dog, organize my desk…)  Eventually I finished and was rewarded (though I didn’t expect that at all.)  I did not know this chapter would have the answer, or part of it, in my quest to understand the human condition of death.

“The  Wanderer, The Warrior, and the Magician learn increasingly sophisticated lessons about ways to control theri lives and destinies.  Ironically, it is only when this control is achieved that the hero can let it go and learn the final lesson of martydom – the acceptance of mortality.  Death is basic to nature.  The leaves fall of the tree every autumn and make possible spring blossoms.  All animal life, including humans, lives by eating other life forms…  The cosmic dance of birth and death… speaks to us of Eros – passion.  What it requires of us is abandonment of our fears of loss (including our fear of death) into the ecstasy of live and living.” – Carol S. Pearson (“The Hero Within”)

Ultimately she says that the we may reject the “sacrifice philosophy”, but we will discover that we martyr ourselves to our wandering, warrioring and may even our magic-making archetypes until we are more free and fearless in our giving, because it feels less like sacrifice but simply an expression of who we are. 

It was a relief.  I know have a better understanding and acceptance of my mother’s behavior.  She would always  save the best morsel of food on her plate for me.  I want her desperately to enjoy it for herself, and it annoyed me then that she would not allow herself that pleasure.  I could not accept her self-sacrifice.  But now I have a better understanding of her motivation to give without thinkig of herself first.

Back to our hero in “Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?”m Deckard’s morale issue is simplified by Rachel when she kills his real live Nubian goat after he sent her away.  She went to his apartment building and un-abashedly pushed the animal to its death over the edge of the building with Deckard’s wife and neighbor witnessing the act.  Upon hearing the news he couldn’t comprehend the useless waste of a precious life.  The duality of giving life and killing life is hard to put to one simple sentence in my own words, so I can only repeat:  “Life Beget Life” and “Life Feeds on Life”.

I won’t give the rest of the novel’s story, in case you’re interested in reading the book.  The ending is different from teh movie.  It was written by Philip Dick, and it’s the novel that inspired the movie, “Blade Runner” which I fell in love with the first time I watched it.  I’ve always wanted to read the book, and it came to me without looking for it when someone had left a bagful of books for donation at the frontdoor of my former apartment building in Hollywood.  (I am a believer of synchronicity.)

As an example, I really did not expect to find an answer to my exploration to one aspect of the human condition.  It is infinite, and I’m so glad of that.

I am exploring an idea so I’m breaking it into two parts. 

Empathy towards the androids?  Rick Deckard, the hero in the novel “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep”, faces the dilemma of having to choose between killing or not killing the renegade androids required of his job as a bounty hunter.  If he continues on his mission then to be effective he decides that he would need the help of the only android available to him who knows the inner workings of the android mentality.  Her name is Rachel Rosen, and she is the prototype android that was created for the pleasure of the colonists inhabiting the other planets.  Unavoidably, he’s discovered he’s attracted to her beyond her professional qualifications.  Another effective bounty hunter sees Deckard’s problem, and tells him to sleep with her then kill her.

Killing is against his philosophy to respect all living things, and though androids are living they do not qualify as human beings or an animal.  He has managed thus far in his career to keep the organization of an organic living entity separate from the non-organic living entity.  But the lines begin to blur, especially since he’s been acting as a caretaker of an electric sheep.  Everyone dreams of owning a real animal.  Most animals and insects have become extinct since the fallout of the dust.  Owning a fake, though, very real-looking sheep “sapped his morale”.  

His assignment to kill the renegade androids who escaped from a colony in Mars will reward him with $1,000.00 per kill, and he’ll be able to afford something real if can “retire” the 6 androids who came to Earth.  They had escape a life of servitude to the emigrants of the colony, for which thet were created of toiling for the human beings.  But neither their creators nor the androids expected an evolutionary possibility/probability the androids would develop a sense of individuation – a self-governing entity with its own purpose. 

 As Deckard knocks off 3 of the six remaining androids in his list, he begins to doubt his ability to kill the last 3 androids.  In desperation to finish the job and fully own a real animal he calls the “Rachel Rosen” prototype and they sleeps with her.  After having sex with her he aims his laser tube to kill her.  She is, by design, cooperative and instructs him to do it painlessly by pointing him to the exact spot to aim.  He aims, but he can’t fire, and sends her away.  “I’m not going to kill you.”  The hero straddles the worlds of his analytical self and his empathic self.

Empathy, as one android suspects is the quality that differentiates herself from the human being.  She orders another android to experiment with cutting off the legs of a spider to see if it can still walk with only 6 legs instead of 8.  The other android uses a pair of cuticle scissors and dutifully cuts off 4 legs.  Isidore, a servile and grateful human being, nicknamed as “Chickenhead” (because of his low IQ) befriends the remaining renegades.  Considered a “special” he is treated with painful pity by society, given only a menial job to serve the community.  He is constantly aware of his burden.  He presents the spider, as a gift, to the droids; but witnesses the cruelty and inhumane torture the spider is subjected to.  Unable to withstand the torture any further, he takes the spider and drowns it in the kitchen sink.  The androids look on with fascination only.

In the last 24 hours I’ve been thinking about “The Human Condition”.  I thought I would paint the words in big bold letters on the wall opposite my desk.  It would be a reminder of the frail human condition.  What is it about seeing a life unfold, like the uncurling of a petals of a flower to its fullness, and it permeates your senses with its fragrance and its heart-breaking beauty?  It’s a wonder.  And knowing at the same time that at its peak it is also quickly receding to its death, each molecule decomposing to its basic building elements that all organic and inorganic matter is made of.  I somehow begin to know the meaning of the expression “Life begets life.” 

It’s complicated beyond words.  I think I had to reach a certain age, or experience life to a certain breadth and depth to begin to grasp its profoundness.  I’ve seen hints of it in the poetry of the lyrics of the band “Tool”.  Their version of it is “Life Feeds On Life.”

 Here’s a link to the song on YouTube, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=luSJiBjqz_s

The lyrics below with credits go to Tool.

Life Feeds On Life

And the angel of the Lord came unto me,

Snatching me up from my

Place of slumber,

And took me on high,

And higher still until we

Moved in the spaces betwixt the air itself.

And he bore me unto a

Vast farmland of our own midwest,

And as we descended cries of

Impending doom rose from the soil.

One thousand, nay, a million

Voices full of fear.

And terror possessed me then.

And I begged,

 

“Angel of the Lord, what are these tortured screams?”

And the angel said unto me,

“These are the cries of the carrots,

The cries of the carrots.

You see, reverend Maynard, tomorrow is harvest day

And to them it is the holocaust.”

And I sprang from my slumber drenched in sweat

Like the tears of one millions terrified brothers

And roared,

“Hear me now,

I have seen the light,

They have a consciousness,

They have a life,

They have a soul.

Damn you!

Let the rabbits wear glasses,

Save our brothers…can I get an amen?

Can I get a hallelujah? thank you, Jesus.

 

Life feeds on life feeds on life feeds on life feeds on…

This is necessary

 

It was daylight when you woke up in your ditch.

You looked up at your sky.

That made blue be your color.

You had your knife with you there too.

When you stood up there was goo all over your clothes.

Your hands were sticky.

You wiped them on your grass,

So now your color was green.

Oh Lord, why did everything always have

To keep changing like this?

You were already getting nervous again.

Your head hurt and it rang when you stood up.

Your head was almost empty.

It always hurt you when you woke up like this.

You crawled up out of your ditch unto your gravel road

And you began to walk

And waited for the rest of your mind to come back to you.

You could see the car parked far down the road

And you walked toward it.

If God is our father, you thought,

Then Satan must be our cousin.

Why didn’t anyone else understand these important things?

When you got to your car,

You tried all the doors,

But they were locked.

It was a red car and it was new.

There was an expensive leather camera case lying on the seat.

Out across your field

You could see two tiny people walking by your woods.

You began to walk towards them.

Now red was your color and of course,

Those little people out there were yours too.

The day before New Year’s Day I discovered one of my neighbors had cut down a very old rubber tree.  This tree was majestic, and its wide girth supported big boughs and its leaves provided a welcoming shade from the sun when I walk my dog from one end of Orange Grove to Olympic Blvd.  In my grief, I picked up the remnants – a chunk of wood and two leaves and saved them as a remembrance of that beautiful old thing.

On that same weekend I had tucked into a book called “The Hero Within”, by Carol S. Pearson.  The book is about the 6 archetypes that we live by, and she identifies them as the Innocent, the Orphan, the Wanderer, the Martyr, the Warrior and the Magician.  The book is helpful for stepping outside of the trees and getting a bird’s eye view of the forest of the story.  It shows how the personal is universal in its use of the archetypes to describe the hero’s journey. 

The Innocent and the Orphan, she considers, to be the pre-heroic phase. When the Innocent transforms to the Orphan, the character moves from a place of seeing the world as the Garden of Eden that provides for everything he/she needs to that of the loss of paradise.  The metaphor of the loss of paradise is the loss of innocence which is the awakening to the reality of suffering:  We can’t always get what we want.  (Those words always brings to my mind the Mick Jaggers’ lamenting voice “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes well you might find you might just get what you need.”)  The lyrics of that song is actually apt for the situation of the journey from Innocent to Orphan. 

The Innocent and the Orphan is the setup needed for the character to “grow up” and take responsibility for themselves, before they can journey into the other archetypes and the lessons to be learned from those views.  In the Orphan phase the person has a strong tendency to hide from reality and and not deal with the situation..  To move from denial to acceptance requires an awakening to the betrayal of a lie, an acknowledgement of the pain of the loss of innocence – in essence going through the suffering.

Grief is hard to bear.  It’s frightful to see a raging fire.  That fire is the rage within that dispels the suffering into actions (or lack of) that are unhealthy and keeps the character stuck in that mode of powerlessness.  He/she cannot embark on the journey.  An example would be addictions – whether it’s substance abuse or creating dramas in our lives. 

As writers we are curious about this rage; we want to know what’s feeding that fire?  We have this instinct to expose the rage so that we can shed light on our humanity.  Carolyn Myss said, “Our biology is our biography.”  Human beings are constantly expressing themselves in ways we don’t see on the surface.  They may not be saying, “I’m hurting”, but their body language or the situations they get themselves into certainly display their state of being.  The Orphan archetype grabs on to anything that can alleviate the pain.  The character willingly aligns himself/herselt to a political movement; a philosophy; a religion; therapy – something that they can identify with – even journaling to see their pain and validate it.  It is a form of denial but is a step towards the awareness of the pain.  But to experience transformation, the character needs to be purified by the fire by going through it.  They need to accept the pain and feel it which is essentially the  grieving process.  In this journey, the Orphan becomes part of the greater whole because he/she awakens to the fact “Everyone suffers.”

Have you heard about the Buddhist parable of the mustard seed?  I quite like it.  Here’s one version I found:  http://www.sacred-texts.com/bud/btg/btg85.htm.  An excerpt from the link above:

And Kisa Gotami had an only son, and he died. In her grief she carried the dead child to all her neighbors, asking them for medicine, and the people said: “She has lost her senses. The boy is dead. At length Kisa Gotami met a man who replied to her request: “I cannot give thee medicine for thy child, but I know a physician who can.” The girl said: “Pray tell me, sir; who is it?” And the man replied: “Go to Sakyamuni, the Buddha.”

Kisa Gotami repaired to the Buddha and cried: “Lord and Master, give me the medicine that will cure my boy.” The Buddha answered: “I want a handful of mustard-seed.” And when the girl in her joy promised to procure it, the Buddha added: “The mustard-seed must be taken from a house where no one has lost a child, husband, parent, or friend.” Poor Kisa Gotami now went from house to house, and the people pitied her and said: “Here is mustard-seed; take it!” But when she asked Did a son or daughter, a father or mother, die in your family?” They answered her: “Alas the living are few, but the dead are many. Do not remind us of our deepest grief.” And there was no house but some beloved one had died in it.

Kisa Gotami became weary and hopeless, and sat down at the wayside, watching the lights of the city, as they flickered up and were extinguished again. At last the darkness of the night reigned everywhere. And she considered the fate of men, that their lives flicker up and are extinguished. And she thought to herself: “How selfish am I in my grief! Death is common to all; yet in this valley of desolation there is a path that leads him to immortality who has surrendered all selfishness.”

Suffering can be a gift when the hero opens up to accepting the fullness of life.  We are witnesses to it all the time. Watch the transition of a tree through the seasons.  It’s a reminder of the cyclical and linear passage of time that is akin to the movement of the hero through the various archetypes.  We’re in a state of constant contraction and expansion; and each cycle of this is growth like the rings of a trunk of the tree exposed.

First thing I want to express is to say “Thank you.”  I am coming from a place of gratitude that ‘We are here.”  It’s a brand new year, and we’re together and we’re inspired with our list of intentions and aspirations.  Ready, set, go!

Thank you to Jennie and Jim for hosting a very warm and gracious Christmas party at their home.  The spread on the table was full of wholesome, handmade goodies from Jennie’s kitchen, and there was hot mulled cider on the stove to welcome the guests.

 I thought I’d kick off the blog of 2012 with what’s been sitting with me.  After a few relaxed days away from the office, and just busying myself with cleaning and organizing my living space, these words came to me:  “Let go and Let God.”  (No.  This is not going to be a pontificating blog.)  I came upon the phrase from a Wayne Dyer audio book.  (I spent a summer travelling between San FranciscoandLos Angeles, and listened to a lot of audio books.)  The book was his interpretation of the Tao Te Ching.

 “Let go and Let God.”  How does this apply to my work, my purpose, my “I must”?  Okay, here’s one:  Writing would be easy if I could always write from a place of inspiration.

 This is not an easy thing for me to do, because a typical day is full distractions, and the “other” work that I do to survive.  The interesting twist is the work that I do to survive is really the writing.  If I couldn’t write then I would wither inside.  The first letter of Maria Rilke to the young poet Hans Kapus is to give the advice to seek from within for his “I must”.

 “…my dear sir, I know no advice for you have this:  to go into yourself and test the deeps in which your life takes rise, at its source you will find the answer to the question whether you must create.  Accept it, just as it sounds, without inquiring into it.  Perhaps it will turn out that you are called to be an artist.  Then take that destiny upon yourself and bear it, its burden and its greatness, without ever asking what recompense might come from outside.  For this creator must be a world for himself and find everything in himself and in Nature to who he has attached himself.” – From “Letters To A Young Poet” (translation by M.D. Herter Norton).

 When I read Rilke’s words I am reminded of another writer whose story I can relate to, because of the circumstances he wrote many of his works, especially that of “Gulag Archipelago”.  Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn wrote about the labour and concentration camp as a prisoner within the barbed wires of the camp.  He wrote the book in the midst of a wasteland, where there was little, if not any, resources available to sustain a human being.  If that does not inspire anyone to create regardless of whatever circumstances he/she is mired in then perhaps being an artist is not their true calling.  It must be strong force from within, that is as basic as breathing air, but is conscious and needs homage with action.

 I relate to Solzhenitsyn’s story because on another level I live in a wasteland of the belief that I need to be inspired to write.  This is not always possible when balancing the spinning plates of the survival work, the “I must” work, and taking the time to be in a quiet place.  That quiet place can be a meditative space where the sky is constantly blue, the backdrop to the constantly moving clouds.  The clouds are like my passing thoughts that I have the tendency to attach meanings to, and sometimes obsess about.  I mistake them to be the “I must”.  I must buy this.  I must get that.  I should call my mother, or I must do laundry… and the list goes on.

 The “I must” could just be that stillness to let the inspiration to flow through me, and to be part of the flow to create.  And if I’m still long enough an opening begins that I’m not so focused on the distractions.  They are still there, but my attention has shifted to the source of a light that reveals a truth.  That truth needs expression without judgment.  Say it as it is.  To let go without judging if it is good or bad, but accepting it for what it is.  Then to trust the creation, because its source comes from a very deep place that I and everyone else taps into – the source which is like the aquifers that sustains life on this planet. 

 The cool thing about LAFPI’s blog practice is we are a community of trust.  Bloggers are not asked to run their work through our editor.  The implicit trust is born from knowing we’re all coming from the same place – respect each others’ contribution that is unique and worthwhile.  We want to nudge and tickle something out of each other to bring forth aliveness in our quest for creativity. 

 I had some reservations about the first to write the blog for 2012.  Wow, I thought… I have to say something good.  Pshaw…Are you kidding Analyn?  Just be yourself.  It will be what it is.  As long as speaks from the heart then I’ve done my work.

 At lunch yesterday the subject of Seth Godin came up. My friend had read his book “The Dip.” He is quoted by J.D. Meier (who works at Microsoft and leads project teams on Agile project. He has authored several technical books.) He said, “Seth Godin is an author, an agent of change, a meaning maker, and an Idea Merchant.”

 The “agent of change” interested me.  I was reminded of  when Obama threw his hat into the presidential race; and the buzz word was “change.”  And when he finally got into office there was a collosal global rush of air that was released like a when you’ve held your breath for too long.

 It seems to me we are all agents of change when we consider the list of heroic acts of people who have changed situations:  Egyptians protested against the 30 year reign of Mubarak; 3 women are the recent recipients of the Nobel Peace Prize for being full participants in peace building work in the most war-torn countries; and then there are the ongoing protests against the financial institutions across the world in support of the “Occupy Wall Street Movement”.

 “Do people really change?” I asked my friend.  He said, “Naw, some people do change, but the vast majority don’t. And those people that do change are never truly comfortable in their new skin. Even when people are like “Oh, you’ve changed”, it’s like “No, I’m finally able to be myself”. Like The Scorpion and the Frog.  This is who you are, deal with rock and roll.”  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Scorpion_and_the_Frog.

What brings about change? What would force anyone to change their direction and ways? Another friend described a questionnaire he had to fill out at a medical office and he was surprised at some of the psychological questions such as “Have you ever thought about suicide?”  Shocking at first, but after thinking about it I wondered if anyone can honestly admit they have not thought about death.  Yes to consider suicide is something deeply wounding, but considering suicide for the clinical and objective curiousity of it.  (The story line of the movie “Kissed”  is about a a child’s romantic ideals about death, and how it turns to necrophilia, and the study of embalming, and finally affecting her relationship with a man who kills himself so she could love him in his death state.)

 If there is any agent of change that is powerful and lasting I’d vote death as the winner. I wear a pendant made from a tusk of a Wooly Mammoth that was unearthed in the Northwest Territories of Canada. It has been carved into a skull. I wear it most times (even to work.) It’s a reminder to me of change, and acceptance of the nature of death and dying. My whacky point of view is that it is life that kills you. When I think about that pendant and its source I think that death brings me life, because it makes me aware of the finiteness of time as perceived in the living form; and how we cling to permanence such as our ideologies, practices, philosophies and our niches and fetishes that gives us identity.

 Our identity is perceived as valuable, and we attach idenfication cards as a means of giving us form: driver’s license; passports, social security numbers. There is now the crime of “identity theft”. I can name a few forms of identity change of hands: stealing dead peoples’ identity for collecting welfare benefits; stealing peoples’ financial data; FBI’s witness protection program; identical twins playing pranks on people.

 How we change internally and externally changes our identity and how we relate to the external world and how we feel about ourselves; this incorporates a change in attitude towards ourselves, how treat ourselves and how others will treat us. It’s so reciprocative.  People go for hypnosis sessions to change habits. People pay lots of money to get nose jobs, boob jobs and lifts and tucks. People will still lose their advantage over their willpower and binge on sweets. When the masses overturn the oligarchy in Wall Street what “new” face will sit in the executive board room? Are we bound to repeat our history based on DNA and our conditioning?

  “No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.” – Steve Jobs

 But he did preview that with:

  “Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life.  Because almost everything, all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.” – Steve Jobs

Bringing it all home, what is it in practice for me? The smallest and simplest thing makes so much difference. I hate to say that I will probably still hit the snooze button tomorrow morning. But I’m still hoping not to, and that will be like letting out that breath of air I’ve held too long.  Follow my heart…  Do what matters…There is no formula…

I will close with a couple of Bruce Lee quotes:

• Art is the way to the absolute and to the essence of human life. The aim of art is not the one-sided promotion of spirit, soul and senses, but the opening of all human capacities – thought, feeling, will – to the life rhythm of the world of nature. So will the voiceless voice be heard and the self be brought into harmony with it.
• Flow in the living moment. — We are always in a process of becoming and nothing is fixed. Have no rigid system in you, and you’ll be flexible to change with the ever changing. Open yourself and flow, my friend. Flow in the total openness of the living moment. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves. Moving, be like water. Still, be like a mirror. Respond like an echo. 

Working in an office there is the cycle of the highs, the lows and the flatliners during during the week. Some of you can relate to the mood patterns as it transitions from Monday Blues to TGIF – Happy Friday! Comic strips, I find, are best at depicting the reality of the workplace.

Credit to Tatsuya Ishida

So today is Tuesday, near the end of the day, and I’m between tasks. I can’t quite get up my excitement to start the next task, so I hang out with the mailroom guy for a wacky conversation to give me a fresh insight on life. (Pretending to “work” at my desk when I’m really checking my email or doing personal research can sometimes feel empty unless I can do it with full permission from my manager (not likely to happen.)) I walk into the mailroom and my buddy looks up. “What’s a five letter word for a mountain?” “Ararat”, I said. He plugs it into his “Nook”, and he’s happy, “Hey that worked!” I hung out a little longer as I too was happy to be doing something interactive with somebody, instead of being in my head doing “design work”.We get a few more words together doing team work. Then I take my leave as my conscience beckons me to go back to my desk and start the new task. Argh… resistance. I don’t want to go into the ivory towers yet. It’s too lonely. It’s too hard. I want fun.

I shake my myself mentally to wake up! “What matters now?” How does what’s happening outside these four walls affect me? I feel so insulated often working in my little world (which is actually scary because I swear I’ve become less intelligent that my skills and knowledge is like this solid single tap root about computer acronyms and methodologies that noone outside of my co-workers really care to know about. As an IT person I’m the one who makes the business users successful. I am like the elf that makes the toys so Santa can give them away and make the kids happy; or the the person operating the lights and sounds on the stage to hi-light the mood of the situation on the stage.)

Then I hone in on my sense of smallness and the fear of it, and it leads me to a discovery. “Wow, this is how Paul feels.” (Paul is a character in my play.) My curiousity and interest in working on the play again is re-awakened. I’m like a child again full of “Wow!” These characters are real. “Wow!” I can’t just design them like a stick figure. They have skeletons and muscles, a nervous system, and they get all gooey and sticky. Gee, I’ve had it wrong for awhile to think that I can manipulate these characters. I can only put them into specific conditions and circumstances and observe and record what they say, do and think.

And I know now why I was stuck for awhile, and I was afraid to get back into the ring to fight the battle. I was already trying to manipulate the outcome of the encounter.   And this is countered by another awesome quote from Bruce Lee:

 

The great mistake is to anticipate the outcome of the engagement; you ought not to be thinking of whether it ends in victory or defeat. Let nature take its course, and your tools will strike at the right moment. – Bruce Lee.

 

The tools being all my senses especially my heart so that I can write truthfully instead of from the head. I was trying to “figure out” the outcome of the play, when it’s an organic living story, because it is made up of real characters of my imagination and heart. Without the heart, the story will be like the manufactured “perfect” apple on display at the window of a furniture store. It’s not the beautiful smelling apple that someone wants to bite into.

And so it is with my office work too. Yes it can get dry with all that heady stuff, but if I design it with heart – with the intent of making something beautifully functional for my users then I’ve done my job right.  That’s what matters now (figuratively and literally for me.)  Back to work!

Connecting the dots can only happen by putting rubber to the pavement. For writers it means showing up and putting tracks down on the page regularly – every day, the way a martial artist trains wholly (mentally, physically and spiritually) for the encounter with an opponent. I am going to weave between two great thinkers and doers: Steve Jobs and Bruce Lee.  There are many common threads to their philosophies, and I am hilighting persistence and passion.

The original thought and words about “connecting the dots” came from the commencement speech to the graduating class of 2005 at Stanford given by Steve Jobs.  He said,

“Again, you can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.” (http://news.stanford.edu/news/2005/june15/jobs-061505.html)

I agree with what he said, and I’m adding: in hindsight it’s also important to only dwell briefly on the past, and to continue to improve on the past.

Last week in my activing class there were numerous times when I felt fed up with listening to the self-directed put downs an artist puts upon themselves for not putting in time into their creation work. I’m not so much fed up with hearing about their complaints, but how their words and the feelings resonate in my own life. I heard the stories of the woes spent on distractions such as eating, talking on the phone, surfing the internet, or cleaning the apartment instead of just sitting down and doing the work. “Yes, I know… I know…I do it too. Now tell me something I don’t know.”

I admire the resolute compassion the teacher has for dealing with the situation, because she had the experience and the vision to guide the student to a higher truth. The practice in the class is to have the mentality of “from this moment forward.” This means to get on with it, and stop flagellating yourself with self-defeating thoughts and words. In the quiet of my own thoughts I faced my own defeats. I felt shameful with thoughts of: Where is the authenticity of meaning what you say? Why is the realization of an idea so hard? What road blocks am I putting up over and over?

I scour books on Zen, Psychology, Philosophy, Drama Art, Anthropology, Archaelogy, and the answer is all there but I can not see it or I’m just not ready to see it.

The gap – that lag time between conception and birth. “When is it gonna be?” I ask like a bored and impatient child with the wild mind. Rather organize my life to accommodate as best as possible the art that needs to happen I have a tendency to run away and allow for distractions to trickle into the “important stuff”. Again I recall the practice at the studio (or the dojo in this case) – “from this moment forward”, and it means to let go of the past – the transgressions of not having done the work, and make re-commit to doing better next time. It is wasted energy to flog oneself for opportunity missed. I think John Little describes it pretty well in the book “The Art of Expressing the Human Body” (by Bruce Lee, John Little)

“Lee believed each day brought the opportunity to improve ourselves physically and mentally; we could choose either to seize the moment to take a step closer to maximizing our potential and progress, or to decline the opportunity and thereby stagnate and regress.”

To complain and rehash the past is stagnating. It can become a harmful and addictive pattern to touch that hardened scar over and over without the intention of healing within, and propelling forward. So as artists, we are all vulnerable to be very hard on ourselves when we miss the mark we set for ourselves. So today was not the best for producing any gems. In fact today may was only a hollow image staring back at me.

 (Credit to Authors:  Bruce Lee and John Little of the “The Art of Expressing the Human Body)

 As the martial artist shows up at the dojo practicing that kick 10,000 times so I too must show up at the desk exercising my imagination and strengthening my courage to create. There are many layers to why that is, but among the leaves that fall to the ground, one that reminds me of my purpose as a writer is ‘for the love of it.’ And with that thought I am back to the beginner mind which found joy in the journey I began with 5 years ago.

Imagine that you just had an encounter with your boss who has made a hasty judgment about you.  For example, she accuses of purposefully disregarding her order; but in reality you acted with initiative to give a fuller or more expansive answer and/or analysis to a problem.  She continues to say or do something that you feel is unjustified. You are reluctant to defend yourself knowing perhaps you’d be digging a deeper hole for yourself.  (This reminds me of a quote I saw on someone’s desk – “Don’t argue with a fool”.)

 Later, a friend who is aware of your explosive relationship with your boss meets with you.  In politeness and care he asks, “How are you?”, and you say, “I’m alright” when in your heart you’re hurt and angry and want to pour it all out.  Eventually the truth does spill over in the course of the conversation.

 That is a classic situation of words behaving as a mask.  We put on the masks to save ourselves and the receiver.  We want to save each other from the truth.  I don’t know why this happens so often that it seems like it’s a conditioned knee jerk reaction.

 In my Imagined Life classes my mentor Faline has encouraged her students to “Look well into the words.”  Discover the world behind the words.  As writers we purposefully choose the words that is put on paper.  I look back to the poem “Trippin’ Across The Bay” and can reword a few bars to be more succinct and precise in what I want to express.  When is it ever done?  We have all probably revisited an old piece of writing, and our point of view has probably shifted since the point in time that the thought and feelings were captured till eternity in that printed form.

 The ARE has one of the largest if not the largest collection of metaphysical writings in its library.  I was so overwhelmed with the books I came across in one place and time.  The book, “C.G. Jung and Hermann Hesse: A Record of Two Friendships”  by Michael Serrano, describes a conversation between the author and Herman Hesse.  The topic was the message of the poem “The Raised Finger” written byHesse. 

  “Words are really a mask, ” said Hesse. “They rarely express the true meaning; in fact they tend to hide it.”  excerpt from C.G. Jung and Hermann Hesse: A Record of Two Friendships.

 In the story telling realm the most dynamic situations is when the hero says something and does opposite of what they say.  Our human nature is to reveal ourselves in our display of actions and artistry, and not in our words.  Words do get in the way, because they are open to interpretation based on the filters a person is subject to.

 It is more telling to witness the hero tells his lover, “I love you,” before shoots his beloved.  If you have not read the short story by Thomas Mann called “Tobias Mindernickel”, it is such a fascinating read.  It depicts the Freudian concept of “Reaction Formation and Displacement”. 

The hero Tobias mistreats an adopted dog, Esau.  In final scene after Tobias had already broken Esau physically (after dropping him from a window) after Esau had disobeyed and escaped.  Tobias says to Esau, “You see, you are my only…my only…..”

Clay Sisman, an educator wrote:  “He never finishes the sentence. What was he going to say? What would he say that?”

The typical symptoms of Reaction Formation are:

• behaving the opposite of how one feels
• saying things that are opposite to what one believes

The typical symptoms of displacement are:

• anger and hostility toward someone or something that is not the cause of the anger
• a temporary inability to control of one’s rational thinking ability
• a temporary inability to control of one’s behaviors, typically striking out physically from anger
• a temporary inability to discuss things calmly and rationally

(Source:  Cybersisman.)

 Rounding back to the You-Boss situation.  The words of the boss who accused you of insubordination is likely masking her feelings of insecurity and fear of losing control.

 We are a fascinating species.  Our minds are wild with distractions and a wild mind begets unpredictable actions that betray the true nature of what lives in our hearts.  Thus I conclude the second series of “The Art of the Heart.”

 Thank you.

This week’s theme for my blogs is the collection of gold and gems that comes from an open heart hitting the open roads.  Welcome to the philosophy and practice of Art of the Heart.  Be it a joyful heart treading lightly on verdant footpaths or a lonely heart that is wound in the ribbons of past lives it is a practice of doing it for the love of it.

Part One – Onley in Virginia

Have you been to Onley, Virginia?  I stopped there overnight last week on my road trip to Virginia Beach to catch a band in the Mayhem Festival.

I walked into the hospice thrift store near Onley, a town with a small population (496 residents reported in the year 2000, household count of 223 and the size of 0.8 square miles) I was so happy and surprised to find a biographical book called “Footprints: The Life and Work of Wayne Shorter “.  In addition, there was a Michael Franks CD “Sleeping Gypsy” which has the jazz-samba song “Antonio’s Song” (dedicated to Antonio Carlos Jobim.)

These treasure finds put a twist on the expression  – ” Onley” in Virginia.

I dedicate this poem to the lovely persons I met in Onley.  I’m thinking of you Jay, Laura and the staff and members of the East Shore YMCA; and finally there’s thee owner/manager of the motel where I stayed.  He got out of the quiet of his mosquito-netting tent.  He told me that it was just 3 days ago that he and his wife sold everything they owned to buy  and run a motel in Onley so that they can escape the noise of Norfolk.   I was heading towards Virginia Beach/Norfolk area to go to listen to the heavy metal sounds of “All Shall Perish” in the Mayhem Festival.

But the real purpose of the trip was to see the ARE (Association for Research and Enlightment) which was founded by Edgar Cayce.  That story will be in a later installment of the series.

Thank you.