I never really know what any of this is supposed to mean.... what I'm doing, or why.
Sometimes I tell people it's important to be aware of the things that motivate us to act... but to be honest, most of the time I never know where it comes from. I feel a compulsion, and it's so hard to explain that tears come to my eyes if I even think of attempting to.
Chris was telling me about a compulsion he had at work the other day. His boss seemed so troubled that morning, when he handed her some coffee. All day he felt compelled to tell her what he thought of her... about the respect he had for her and what she does for the people around her, and her passion for the work she does. He couldn't stop thinking about it all day, so before leaving he sat down and wrote her a letter, and gave it to her. The next day she took him aside in an effort to explain how much it meant to her, that she was moved to tears. There are no words for these things.
I was listening to him tell me this and I myself felt very moved. It's something I think about all the time, and try to put words to when there are none. It's so beautiful when people are honest with each other. We hold back so much, for fear of standing there naked, vulnerable to the world.
We think we don't know who we are, or how to represent ourselves. We think we are so alone. We think we cannot describe ourselves to each other in a way that could be understood. We think when we 'say', we don't say what we mean, and when we paint, it's never as beautiful as the image in our heads. We struggle to birth reflections of ourselves into this world all the time, and we feel pain when our meticulous efforts fail to reflect the true beauty of this thing inside us.
And all this time, here we are standing, naked under it all. Beautiful. Always. To Everyone.
We are not hidden. We shine through, marvelous accidental.
Listen: these compulsions? Listen and see yourself shine through. I know that if I stay here, eyes open, ears open- I will hear and I will see the difference between Everything Else, and my soul singing to be heard.
But this isn't a task, or a quest, or a journey to overcome obstacles. Even if you don't hear it, even if you don't see it, even if you don't think you know it.... you shine through, anyway. Marvelous accidental.
Someone once said, "Existence does not exist for others. It is of itself, for itself, by itself."
Alan Watts once said, "Contradictory as it may sound, it seems to me that the deepest spiritual experience can arise only in moments of selfishness so complete that it transcends itself."
Damian once said, "Any autobiography is an act of vanity."
And I once thought that compulsion, selfishness, self- consciousness and vanity were things to be frowned upon. Negatives to which surely there existed positive alternatives.
But what is compulsion, if not an act driven by a force that seems larger and more overwhelming than your own notions of logic, reason and etiquette? I thought it was something that had to do with lack of self-control, or of acting without thinking or consideration. But this is only one element of a very multi-faceted relationship. If you look at Chris's story, you realize that sometimes acting without thought or consideration can manifest itself in ways so thoughtful and considerate that we did not know we were capable of it.
Along the same lines, selflessness is in itself an act of pure selfishness. This is how much language serves its purpose in manners such as these.
Self-consciousness could be described as a condition of ceaseless fascination with who "I am". It is self-consciousness which is often crippling and misleading, often a circus house of distorted mirrors and illusions. But how much would we know, how much would we laugh and understand if we just really tried to look at ourselves? We are constant reflections of each other.
And vanity. The other thing that causes us to think twice before showing ourselves to the world.The other thing that makes us ask 'Well, who am I to say?' or, 'Well, who would really care to look at me?'
For one reason or another I am thinking to myself, whether or not a diamond is hidden will not change its shape, form, beauty or flawlessness. But it can only be brilliant in the sun.
For one reason or another I keep thinking about these things, and about how I thought they meant one thing, and were to be avoided....
... but now I'm starting to realize that things like this: compulsion, selfishness, self-conciousness and vanity... are completely unavoidable, and I have been struggling to overcome them when they themselves are part of who I am.
And not only that, but that these things, while they can be negative, can also be very positive, too. That there is no opposite, and no alternative, because these conditions are balanced within their own true meanings (whatever they are) They are neutral elements that are part of this game, and we can play with them in ways that can bring joy into our lives and others, and a little more brilliance into the world.
Okay then. That is all.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Touch and Spill
I feel a little overwhelmed... this is good... it's quite good, actually (Amanda, you know)
Why does it floor me so to listen to music someone has made that comes from their hearts, and souls, and that perfect, radiant, gorgeous part of them that seems to shine when we just let it go?
Oh lord. It floors me so. It moves me like nothing else in this world. Every modular swell is like the crest of the wave that my heart is riding on. I feel like spilling all over the place, perfect, melting, water into water. Like salty tears melt into the ocean.
It touches me.
This is how it is with music.... I was ready to go to bed and Nick asked me to wait five minutes and sent me the beginnings of a dubstep track he'd started working on tonight.
It's hard to explain, so i'll just say it in the first words that came to me... I told him, 'Now you've got me, making such a pretty thing....
... it's like you touched your fingers to the keyboard and to your computer and it went through something intangible to get to my ears... and then from there you reached right into me and touched my soul.'
What does it sound like... it sounds like flattery. People hesitate to speak when they are touched like this. Me, I can never keep my mouth shut about much, especially when it's overwhelming.
It wasn't just that it was beautiful, though. I felt like the universe-sized complexity of the nature of the relationship between he and I had been explained to me in less than five minutes, and without words.
Does that make sense?
I heard it and I knew, without any words exchanged, that he knew me. Open ears, connect. Not just me, Josephine, age 23, lost in her life.... but me... who I am.
I'm having a hard time with words, here. But what I'm trying to say is, every sound, every movement, every rhythm- it moved with me like when two dancers know each other so well they dance effortlessly, beautifully together , pushing pulling. Like my ears were meant to hear it that way. Like I've been waiting all my life to feel that elevated.
I love to see it spill like that.
That's what making things is, to me, I think. Cup Overflow. Honest Gorgeousness into the world, because we can't even help it.
Why does it floor me so to listen to music someone has made that comes from their hearts, and souls, and that perfect, radiant, gorgeous part of them that seems to shine when we just let it go?
Oh lord. It floors me so. It moves me like nothing else in this world. Every modular swell is like the crest of the wave that my heart is riding on. I feel like spilling all over the place, perfect, melting, water into water. Like salty tears melt into the ocean.
It touches me.
This is how it is with music.... I was ready to go to bed and Nick asked me to wait five minutes and sent me the beginnings of a dubstep track he'd started working on tonight.
It's hard to explain, so i'll just say it in the first words that came to me... I told him, 'Now you've got me, making such a pretty thing....
... it's like you touched your fingers to the keyboard and to your computer and it went through something intangible to get to my ears... and then from there you reached right into me and touched my soul.'
What does it sound like... it sounds like flattery. People hesitate to speak when they are touched like this. Me, I can never keep my mouth shut about much, especially when it's overwhelming.
It wasn't just that it was beautiful, though. I felt like the universe-sized complexity of the nature of the relationship between he and I had been explained to me in less than five minutes, and without words.
Does that make sense?
I heard it and I knew, without any words exchanged, that he knew me. Open ears, connect. Not just me, Josephine, age 23, lost in her life.... but me... who I am.
I'm having a hard time with words, here. But what I'm trying to say is, every sound, every movement, every rhythm- it moved with me like when two dancers know each other so well they dance effortlessly, beautifully together , pushing pulling. Like my ears were meant to hear it that way. Like I've been waiting all my life to feel that elevated.
I love to see it spill like that.
That's what making things is, to me, I think. Cup Overflow. Honest Gorgeousness into the world, because we can't even help it.
Patience in Playing the Game
How does it work in chess?
I am a very impatient chess player. I tend to spend the time the other player is deliberating mapping out all possible moves and counter-moves so that when my time comes, it takes me less than a few seconds to turn the tables.
About 80% of the time this works for me, the other 20% of the time, something happens that I didn't quite see... because I'm not perfect, and I miss that kind of stuff sometimes.
Other times, I'm so focused on some intended strategy that my impatience turns into anxiety, and then into complete distraction. I am so preoccupied that I accidentally overlook the trap that my opponent has laid out. That's when I get my ass kicked. That happens sometimes, too.
Patience isn't just a virtue. It's a calmness, and a tranquility. It's the stillness in the eye of the storm and what makes the dancing beautiful when you let go of all inhibition.
It's realizing you could save yourself a whole lot of cuts and bruises if you just move with current and let it take you right where you're supposed to be. It's less like gravity, and more like magic- and it will drop the pieces right into place when you least expect it, because it's always happening whether you can see it or not.
Anyone who's played the game, or put their hands on something with the intention of reflecting this beautiful thing inside has gone through the frustration of trying to say what we mean, or show what we see, or make the 'right' decisions.
The thing is, we inherently understand the nature of things, whether you want to call them rules, or laws, constants or truths. We already know that we know the right moves, instinctively, and without thought.
But if you're anything like me, you often get impatient with yourself and your relationship with time, and you start to second-guess yourself, and get distracted.
What I mean to say is, here I am writing about how things are a matter of time, and I know this, but I'm still tapping my foot and looking at my watch. My heart rate is going up, and my anxiety, and I feel held back, if anything by a self-imposed, imaginary standard or deadline.
But waiting isn't just sitting there and expecting something to happen. It's a wonderful time! It's a chance to reflect and look forward, and to calm yourself and know that whatever happens, you'll know how to get through it. It's an opportunity to think, and more importantly, an opportunity to not think at all, and to just 'be'.
I had no idea how important that was. I always think it's so pointless and unimportant, and that I'm not being productive. But when the ball is in the world's court, what could be more productive than tapping into the part of you that is omniscient and happy, because it is in its nature? That part of you ir more than intelligent. That part of you knows.
I am a very impatient chess player. I tend to spend the time the other player is deliberating mapping out all possible moves and counter-moves so that when my time comes, it takes me less than a few seconds to turn the tables.
About 80% of the time this works for me, the other 20% of the time, something happens that I didn't quite see... because I'm not perfect, and I miss that kind of stuff sometimes.
Other times, I'm so focused on some intended strategy that my impatience turns into anxiety, and then into complete distraction. I am so preoccupied that I accidentally overlook the trap that my opponent has laid out. That's when I get my ass kicked. That happens sometimes, too.
Patience isn't just a virtue. It's a calmness, and a tranquility. It's the stillness in the eye of the storm and what makes the dancing beautiful when you let go of all inhibition.
It's realizing you could save yourself a whole lot of cuts and bruises if you just move with current and let it take you right where you're supposed to be. It's less like gravity, and more like magic- and it will drop the pieces right into place when you least expect it, because it's always happening whether you can see it or not.
Anyone who's played the game, or put their hands on something with the intention of reflecting this beautiful thing inside has gone through the frustration of trying to say what we mean, or show what we see, or make the 'right' decisions.
The thing is, we inherently understand the nature of things, whether you want to call them rules, or laws, constants or truths. We already know that we know the right moves, instinctively, and without thought.
But if you're anything like me, you often get impatient with yourself and your relationship with time, and you start to second-guess yourself, and get distracted.
What I mean to say is, here I am writing about how things are a matter of time, and I know this, but I'm still tapping my foot and looking at my watch. My heart rate is going up, and my anxiety, and I feel held back, if anything by a self-imposed, imaginary standard or deadline.
But waiting isn't just sitting there and expecting something to happen. It's a wonderful time! It's a chance to reflect and look forward, and to calm yourself and know that whatever happens, you'll know how to get through it. It's an opportunity to think, and more importantly, an opportunity to not think at all, and to just 'be'.
I had no idea how important that was. I always think it's so pointless and unimportant, and that I'm not being productive. But when the ball is in the world's court, what could be more productive than tapping into the part of you that is omniscient and happy, because it is in its nature? That part of you ir more than intelligent. That part of you knows.
Response Letter
A response letter to a friend who wrote me in response to the last blog. I took out names for now out of respect, since I haven't asked his permission to publicize our conversation. I'll stick them back in if he has no problem with it:
______________________________________________
hey _____, thanks so much for your insight, i'm very excited to eventually get a chance to talk to you about such things.
I definitely fluctuate between defining my own identity and disassociating from it. I've come to think of it as a game, but just like winning and losing in games, if I feel like the story I'm unfolding has hit a wall, I start to get frustrated. I am a sore loser.
It's really, really helpful to be reminded to focus on the things I know, but have turned a blind eye to (again). I thank you for that.
As far as conclusions go, I've come to the conclusion that there is no such thing. I have an intuition that there's no answer to our most provoking questions, and the pursuit of such only reveals more questions. So it must be about the inquiry, and the joy and sorrow of it.
I'm okay with that. I just forget I'm okay with that, sometimes.
I empathize with what you went through with _______. The last person I was with (for most of college) lied to me several times about some seriously painful things before I literally couldn't bear to speak to him anymore.
It was a terrible time, my heart was completely broken, I felt my trust for other humans desintegrating, and with every new chance I gave him thrown in my face, I felt more and more like a fool.
Those kinds of things force you to question every little thing about yourself, whether it's reasonable or not. You wonder what was not good enough about you for the other person, what you might have done better, why the person they're with now is so superior to you in quality. You question the nature of human interaction, and whether or not it's meaningful at all. And so on.
Most importantly though, relationship aside, it forces you to look at yourself, and really try and see who it is you really are- the truth of it. Heartbreak might have been the most illuminating thing that has ever happened to me.
Here's a little thing that my life has brought to my attention recently, that I feel compelled to share with you for whatever reason-
- I thought for the better part of the last year and a half, when I was mostly solitary and healing, that I might never be able to trust or love again, or that past events had damaged my ability to do so. Since I've been in this city, I realized that things like that are never beyond our reach or lost to us.
The broken-hearted have had to peel away layers, and have become wiser for it. They realize that love and trust are not for everybody, and everything.
They are gifts that we give to this world, to those who bring it out in us. When we meet those people, no matter how much we've been hurt, there's no way in the world we will be able to help it. We can't help the loving, and the trusting.
I didn't know, but it pours out of you when you find someone worthy of it. I've been quite surprised, actually... it happens when you least expect it... and I know that sounds cliche, but there's truth to it, that's how it becomes cliche in the first place.
I understand what you mean about being comfortable floating in limbo. I have been quite comfortable, and happy-
- I know that I'm on the brink of something, though. Like I'm on the edge of a waterfall, and the floating is about to be pulled out from under me and something wild is about to happen. It's excitement and nervousness, is what it is. The other side to the floating, if I were to be taoist about it.
And yes, your words were a great aid. They came just at the right time. (namaste)
Josephine
______________________________________________
hey _____, thanks so much for your insight, i'm very excited to eventually get a chance to talk to you about such things.
I definitely fluctuate between defining my own identity and disassociating from it. I've come to think of it as a game, but just like winning and losing in games, if I feel like the story I'm unfolding has hit a wall, I start to get frustrated. I am a sore loser.
It's really, really helpful to be reminded to focus on the things I know, but have turned a blind eye to (again). I thank you for that.
As far as conclusions go, I've come to the conclusion that there is no such thing. I have an intuition that there's no answer to our most provoking questions, and the pursuit of such only reveals more questions. So it must be about the inquiry, and the joy and sorrow of it.
I'm okay with that. I just forget I'm okay with that, sometimes.
I empathize with what you went through with _______. The last person I was with (for most of college) lied to me several times about some seriously painful things before I literally couldn't bear to speak to him anymore.
It was a terrible time, my heart was completely broken, I felt my trust for other humans desintegrating, and with every new chance I gave him thrown in my face, I felt more and more like a fool.
Those kinds of things force you to question every little thing about yourself, whether it's reasonable or not. You wonder what was not good enough about you for the other person, what you might have done better, why the person they're with now is so superior to you in quality. You question the nature of human interaction, and whether or not it's meaningful at all. And so on.
Most importantly though, relationship aside, it forces you to look at yourself, and really try and see who it is you really are- the truth of it. Heartbreak might have been the most illuminating thing that has ever happened to me.
Here's a little thing that my life has brought to my attention recently, that I feel compelled to share with you for whatever reason-
- I thought for the better part of the last year and a half, when I was mostly solitary and healing, that I might never be able to trust or love again, or that past events had damaged my ability to do so. Since I've been in this city, I realized that things like that are never beyond our reach or lost to us.
The broken-hearted have had to peel away layers, and have become wiser for it. They realize that love and trust are not for everybody, and everything.
They are gifts that we give to this world, to those who bring it out in us. When we meet those people, no matter how much we've been hurt, there's no way in the world we will be able to help it. We can't help the loving, and the trusting.
I didn't know, but it pours out of you when you find someone worthy of it. I've been quite surprised, actually... it happens when you least expect it... and I know that sounds cliche, but there's truth to it, that's how it becomes cliche in the first place.
I understand what you mean about being comfortable floating in limbo. I have been quite comfortable, and happy-
- I know that I'm on the brink of something, though. Like I'm on the edge of a waterfall, and the floating is about to be pulled out from under me and something wild is about to happen. It's excitement and nervousness, is what it is. The other side to the floating, if I were to be taoist about it.
And yes, your words were a great aid. They came just at the right time. (namaste)
Josephine
Re-
I feel this huge sense of relief, even though it's just from myself, and my thoughts.
I haven't been writing much and that was bothering me, and also not really playing guitar or thinking too much about what to do with myself. I worry a lot about whether or not I'm making progress, or moving in any direction in my life. If there's anything I have a fear of, it's stagnation.
It's a silly thing to worry about especially since I'm aware that my life has changed so drastically in every direction in the past few years... just like it's about to change again, and really soon when my severence runs out and I am burped back out into the 'cold, harsh real world'.
But there it is. I'd been thinking about when I left Maui and the intentions I'd set- which I realize now I've never written about, but have faithfully kept in the back of my head since the moment I stepped on the plane and waved 'Aloha' to the island that set my heart free.
They were as follows:
1) There was a sense of clarity and knowingness that I had only caught glimpses of before... which I felt so consistently that I believed it to be a part of me that was timeless, and would never go away.
I came to Kahua and every beautiful thing reflected it back into my retinas and ears and fingers and mouth in such a way that I could see it with my eyes closed, or open, or full of tears.
I could see it in the persistent and unrelenting beauty of every person's radiant face and body, no matter what shape or proportion. I saw it in the majesty of every crashing wave, waterfall, bird, flower and plant that even now leaves me at a loss for words, and that photographs do no justice.
I could hear it in the insects, and the wind in the trees, and the crashing of the waves and the ringing in my ears resonate on one frequency... low... rumbling... it breaks your heart and you fall on your knees and palms and look down into the grass and the ants are singing along with it...
I could feel it when sand fell through my fingers, and when I jumped into the warm ocean under the hot setting sun and it was like diving into liquid gold, luminescent and salty, letting me float. I could feel it when the wind blew my skirt and made me feel like I was flying, and in the soles of my feet on burning hot rocks and icy cool grass.
I could taste it in the tiny yellow pineapples that we watched all summer, waiting for them to ripen. In the papayas that turn yellow and cry for you to pull them off the tree in a way that a person completely in love wants to give every ounce of their being to the soul that holds their heart. I could taste it when Amanda and I scooped a passion fruit out into a papaya and ate the two together, and realized that it didn't matter who was responsible for such perfection... just that it was just that- perfection- put on this planet for us to discover with our tongues.
What was It....
... It was in our fingers touching, and our mouths tasting, and our eyes seeing, and our ears hearing. Everything. All of it. It was realizing that this overwhelming beauty couldn't EXIST without us- us, being TRULY present, and REALLY there, to play the crucial and sacred role of finding it beautiful.
It was a blessed interaction with the world around us. We were so blessed, all the time... and all we had to do was see, and hear, and touch, and taste. It was bigger than winning every prize in the world, because it was like winning every prize that our imaginations could conjure, even when it came to intangible things like the human soul, or the universe.
It was so important for me to know that this could still be a consistent part of me outside of Maui, no matter where I was, or under whatever circumstance. I needed to know that I could do this. That it wasn't a dream. That it wasn't an illusion veiled over my eyes... some sort of inner-beautiful mirage brought on by the overwhelming decadence of living in paradise. In other words, I needed to know that it would still be there, even in a city, surrounded by strangers, in a place I'd never been to, that is cold and dark eight months out of the year.
To tell you the truth, I was afraid I would leave Maui and lose myself in the confusion and complexity of life outside of our little island. That I wouldn't be able to see the sun through the smog, or hear anything over the roar of the city, or feel anything because I have numbed myself to protect myself from things that may hurt me, or taste anything because food is just a thing we put in our bodies to keep us from running out of the energy it takes to survive, both mentally and physically.
I was afraid I would forget how to see, and hear, and touch, and taste.
And now as I've written this, I'm laughing because it seems that I'd forgotten that the 'forgetting' is part of it all. We forget things so we can remember them... to feel this thing that I'm feeling right now, this remembering, which is wonderful.
And I remember it here, in Boston, which is beautiful in a completely New and Different way that adds another dimension of beauty to the way that I experience being alive.
2) I knew I was meant to learn something very important by accepting the job offer and the re-location to Boston, regardless of whether or not the job worked out... and I intended to learn that lesson, whatever it was.
And it's funny, because in a way I knew what was going to happen, even though I never could have predicted it and I had no control over the outcome. I'd told Amanda then, and on the balcony of our hidden surrealist castle which we'd struggled long and hard to find, that this would be El Ano Fuerte, the year of strength. That hard times would come, and many things would be out of our control, but that we would move through it gracefully like water over a cliff-
- water transformed into water. Constantly changing but always, in it's truest essence, just what it is. And strong enough- with the knowledge that anything is possible over a long enough timeline and that life is long- to carve stone and reshape this world. That we could, and we would- no matter what happened to us- and just by Being.
3) After I'd seen Gabriel play for the last time, I realized that I would not hear anything quite like that in Boston, because it just simply wasn't there.
Yet.
I told Amanda that in two years I would be a Ninja - Fairy - DJ: that I would playing in clubs in Boston and enrapturing people the way I was enraptured, and made to dance because I couldn't help it, soul-cleansed, mind-cleared. Gabriel gave me a gift from his ears to mine, and I fully intended to, with enough listening and passion, take something that had given me joy and re-create it through my own ears, and creativity, and perspective, which is wholly unique in a way that everyone else's is, too.
I haven't been writing because the time for me to write was not then, but Now. I had just been doing something other than writing; I have been expressing myself to the people around me in words, and facial expressions, fingertips and smiles, which is what I do when I am meeting new people in a new place.
I haven't been playing guitar because I've been learning to DJ- re-configuring auditory synaptic connections in a way that excites me so much it is electrifying, and you (I mean You) can feel it. I may not have played guitar in a few weeks. But I have never in my life been so immersed in what is happening to my ears, and how I am hearing it than I am now. And that is something worth reckoning.
And I haven't been thinking about so-called progress because it's already happening, and effortlessly... so much so that it feels so fun that the lack of struggle is unfamiliar to me and feels like Play.
I was feeling lost this morning, and worried. There are a lot of things to worry about if you look at it one way.
It's funny, and also okay. I just forgot you could see it other ways... and I see it another way right now, for now.
The perfection all around me. Smell in my nose, beautiful people in my presence, old wood floor full of history under my feet. Inspired fingertips and listening ears. Laughing mouth, gorgeous old city in my eyes. The unparalleled, appreciative look on people's faces after eight months as they gradually realize that soon it will be warm.
Perfection all around me. Nothing like Maui. Everything like me and the world working together to make beauty exist.
I haven't been writing much and that was bothering me, and also not really playing guitar or thinking too much about what to do with myself. I worry a lot about whether or not I'm making progress, or moving in any direction in my life. If there's anything I have a fear of, it's stagnation.
It's a silly thing to worry about especially since I'm aware that my life has changed so drastically in every direction in the past few years... just like it's about to change again, and really soon when my severence runs out and I am burped back out into the 'cold, harsh real world'.
But there it is. I'd been thinking about when I left Maui and the intentions I'd set- which I realize now I've never written about, but have faithfully kept in the back of my head since the moment I stepped on the plane and waved 'Aloha' to the island that set my heart free.
They were as follows:
1) There was a sense of clarity and knowingness that I had only caught glimpses of before... which I felt so consistently that I believed it to be a part of me that was timeless, and would never go away.
I came to Kahua and every beautiful thing reflected it back into my retinas and ears and fingers and mouth in such a way that I could see it with my eyes closed, or open, or full of tears.
I could see it in the persistent and unrelenting beauty of every person's radiant face and body, no matter what shape or proportion. I saw it in the majesty of every crashing wave, waterfall, bird, flower and plant that even now leaves me at a loss for words, and that photographs do no justice.
I could hear it in the insects, and the wind in the trees, and the crashing of the waves and the ringing in my ears resonate on one frequency... low... rumbling... it breaks your heart and you fall on your knees and palms and look down into the grass and the ants are singing along with it...
I could feel it when sand fell through my fingers, and when I jumped into the warm ocean under the hot setting sun and it was like diving into liquid gold, luminescent and salty, letting me float. I could feel it when the wind blew my skirt and made me feel like I was flying, and in the soles of my feet on burning hot rocks and icy cool grass.
I could taste it in the tiny yellow pineapples that we watched all summer, waiting for them to ripen. In the papayas that turn yellow and cry for you to pull them off the tree in a way that a person completely in love wants to give every ounce of their being to the soul that holds their heart. I could taste it when Amanda and I scooped a passion fruit out into a papaya and ate the two together, and realized that it didn't matter who was responsible for such perfection... just that it was just that- perfection- put on this planet for us to discover with our tongues.
What was It....
... It was in our fingers touching, and our mouths tasting, and our eyes seeing, and our ears hearing. Everything. All of it. It was realizing that this overwhelming beauty couldn't EXIST without us- us, being TRULY present, and REALLY there, to play the crucial and sacred role of finding it beautiful.
It was a blessed interaction with the world around us. We were so blessed, all the time... and all we had to do was see, and hear, and touch, and taste. It was bigger than winning every prize in the world, because it was like winning every prize that our imaginations could conjure, even when it came to intangible things like the human soul, or the universe.
It was so important for me to know that this could still be a consistent part of me outside of Maui, no matter where I was, or under whatever circumstance. I needed to know that I could do this. That it wasn't a dream. That it wasn't an illusion veiled over my eyes... some sort of inner-beautiful mirage brought on by the overwhelming decadence of living in paradise. In other words, I needed to know that it would still be there, even in a city, surrounded by strangers, in a place I'd never been to, that is cold and dark eight months out of the year.
To tell you the truth, I was afraid I would leave Maui and lose myself in the confusion and complexity of life outside of our little island. That I wouldn't be able to see the sun through the smog, or hear anything over the roar of the city, or feel anything because I have numbed myself to protect myself from things that may hurt me, or taste anything because food is just a thing we put in our bodies to keep us from running out of the energy it takes to survive, both mentally and physically.
I was afraid I would forget how to see, and hear, and touch, and taste.
And now as I've written this, I'm laughing because it seems that I'd forgotten that the 'forgetting' is part of it all. We forget things so we can remember them... to feel this thing that I'm feeling right now, this remembering, which is wonderful.
And I remember it here, in Boston, which is beautiful in a completely New and Different way that adds another dimension of beauty to the way that I experience being alive.
2) I knew I was meant to learn something very important by accepting the job offer and the re-location to Boston, regardless of whether or not the job worked out... and I intended to learn that lesson, whatever it was.
And it's funny, because in a way I knew what was going to happen, even though I never could have predicted it and I had no control over the outcome. I'd told Amanda then, and on the balcony of our hidden surrealist castle which we'd struggled long and hard to find, that this would be El Ano Fuerte, the year of strength. That hard times would come, and many things would be out of our control, but that we would move through it gracefully like water over a cliff-
- water transformed into water. Constantly changing but always, in it's truest essence, just what it is. And strong enough- with the knowledge that anything is possible over a long enough timeline and that life is long- to carve stone and reshape this world. That we could, and we would- no matter what happened to us- and just by Being.
3) After I'd seen Gabriel play for the last time, I realized that I would not hear anything quite like that in Boston, because it just simply wasn't there.
Yet.
I told Amanda that in two years I would be a Ninja - Fairy - DJ: that I would playing in clubs in Boston and enrapturing people the way I was enraptured, and made to dance because I couldn't help it, soul-cleansed, mind-cleared. Gabriel gave me a gift from his ears to mine, and I fully intended to, with enough listening and passion, take something that had given me joy and re-create it through my own ears, and creativity, and perspective, which is wholly unique in a way that everyone else's is, too.
I haven't been writing because the time for me to write was not then, but Now. I had just been doing something other than writing; I have been expressing myself to the people around me in words, and facial expressions, fingertips and smiles, which is what I do when I am meeting new people in a new place.
I haven't been playing guitar because I've been learning to DJ- re-configuring auditory synaptic connections in a way that excites me so much it is electrifying, and you (I mean You) can feel it. I may not have played guitar in a few weeks. But I have never in my life been so immersed in what is happening to my ears, and how I am hearing it than I am now. And that is something worth reckoning.
And I haven't been thinking about so-called progress because it's already happening, and effortlessly... so much so that it feels so fun that the lack of struggle is unfamiliar to me and feels like Play.
I was feeling lost this morning, and worried. There are a lot of things to worry about if you look at it one way.
It's funny, and also okay. I just forgot you could see it other ways... and I see it another way right now, for now.
The perfection all around me. Smell in my nose, beautiful people in my presence, old wood floor full of history under my feet. Inspired fingertips and listening ears. Laughing mouth, gorgeous old city in my eyes. The unparalleled, appreciative look on people's faces after eight months as they gradually realize that soon it will be warm.
Perfection all around me. Nothing like Maui. Everything like me and the world working together to make beauty exist.
Moment of Clarity - Letter to Amanda
You and I are going places, my friend. And by that I mean adventure like you wouldn't believe. I've been thinking a lot lately about making beauty. About making things and thoughts and love and life beautiful. I think we're pretty good at it and getting better.
I love your reading and your loving it. I love your questioning and appreciating it. I see an invincible kind of happiness in you, and you know what it is? It's that thing. Really.
I love that you'll go for the brilliant adventure story over the safe alternatives. It made me remember that's why I took this job. It's also why being run out of your apartment by gangsters is not such a bad thing :)
I have an idea about the future. I'm thinking about talking to my (former) boss today to negotiate some compensation and finally free myself from the power struggle. It's been hard this week thinking of the disappointment and loss of the opportunity I'd been so excited about for so long. It fell through my hands like water and there was nothing I could have done different to keep it from happening.
This whole thing about pain in the changing tides- my mind goes to Pa'ia beach and how one day we came to swim and half of it was gone. I'd thought about the million pounds of sand and shell lost to the ocean.
What I didn't realize right away was that along this newborn coast, there had been revealed to us a mosaic of new debris and fallen trees and suddenly it wasn't a loss anymore- it was a whole new, beautiful landscape that I couldn't have predicted, even if I tried.
What brilliant landscape has just been revealed to me? What infinite possibility? I love to indulge in this game of being re-shaped again and again, learning new things with each changing tide. I don't know if I'll ever tire of it. It tantalizes me like licking flames of fire to the eyes of man. It's magic to my eyes and ears and mind and soul.
And then?
I figured it out.
I'm going to write. And not because I'm in love with the image of being a writer, or even because I would like to be one... but just because I already do. I'm going to write because it's like breathing air to me. I'm going to write because I'm already writing, and I always have been writing, and always will write, even when no one's looking. I'm going to write like it's too big and it's got to get out of me.
And it occurred to me just now that I might be romanticizing. But then I recall the lesson I just learned when trying to talk sense into my boss- that when people feel deeply moved, they often mistake this overwhelming sensation of love for romance.
Romantic love, in my head, doesn't even come close to the love that emerges out of real human connection. It's a case of mistaken intentions. You see those eyes and arms and hearts, and outward cries reaching up and out and its gorgeousness overwhelms you. The inquiry is so pure, and true, and beautiful. It pierces the soul.
How can you not love it? Two souls touching provides a sense of clarity that we hunger for, every day of our lives. I wake up, every day of my life, for that clarity. I cry out, and I reach my arms for that clarity.
I write for that clarity.
I feel a pressure in my chest right now, from how much I mean it.
I love your reading and your loving it. I love your questioning and appreciating it. I see an invincible kind of happiness in you, and you know what it is? It's that thing. Really.
I love that you'll go for the brilliant adventure story over the safe alternatives. It made me remember that's why I took this job. It's also why being run out of your apartment by gangsters is not such a bad thing :)
I have an idea about the future. I'm thinking about talking to my (former) boss today to negotiate some compensation and finally free myself from the power struggle. It's been hard this week thinking of the disappointment and loss of the opportunity I'd been so excited about for so long. It fell through my hands like water and there was nothing I could have done different to keep it from happening.
This whole thing about pain in the changing tides- my mind goes to Pa'ia beach and how one day we came to swim and half of it was gone. I'd thought about the million pounds of sand and shell lost to the ocean.
What I didn't realize right away was that along this newborn coast, there had been revealed to us a mosaic of new debris and fallen trees and suddenly it wasn't a loss anymore- it was a whole new, beautiful landscape that I couldn't have predicted, even if I tried.
What brilliant landscape has just been revealed to me? What infinite possibility? I love to indulge in this game of being re-shaped again and again, learning new things with each changing tide. I don't know if I'll ever tire of it. It tantalizes me like licking flames of fire to the eyes of man. It's magic to my eyes and ears and mind and soul.
And then?
I figured it out.
I'm going to write. And not because I'm in love with the image of being a writer, or even because I would like to be one... but just because I already do. I'm going to write because it's like breathing air to me. I'm going to write because I'm already writing, and I always have been writing, and always will write, even when no one's looking. I'm going to write like it's too big and it's got to get out of me.
And it occurred to me just now that I might be romanticizing. But then I recall the lesson I just learned when trying to talk sense into my boss- that when people feel deeply moved, they often mistake this overwhelming sensation of love for romance.
Romantic love, in my head, doesn't even come close to the love that emerges out of real human connection. It's a case of mistaken intentions. You see those eyes and arms and hearts, and outward cries reaching up and out and its gorgeousness overwhelms you. The inquiry is so pure, and true, and beautiful. It pierces the soul.
How can you not love it? Two souls touching provides a sense of clarity that we hunger for, every day of our lives. I wake up, every day of my life, for that clarity. I cry out, and I reach my arms for that clarity.
I write for that clarity.
I feel a pressure in my chest right now, from how much I mean it.
.love.heart.ear.mouth.heart.love.
Last night I was drafting the first part of the mural on my wall alone in the apartment and listening to music, dancing around and having a fine time. When my roommate came home, she was quite distressed over her new boyfriend; she likes him so much that she seems to be losing her self-confidence and also her faith that he likes her. I was listening to her get so angry and frustrated about expectations and 'should's, and every lover's struggle to overcome jealousy- and I could see where her pain was coming from, but I couldn't tell her 'you just have to trust, even though it might hurt'.
Right afterward my friend Alexia called me sobbing; she has taken on two good jobs and makes a lot of money and lives in New York. She has, on the outside, all the material indicators of success: she is good at her job as a modeling agent, writes screenplays for a Greek TV show, good looks, and so on. But she is cripplingly image-conscious as a result of her job and generally miserable from the fatigue of trying to satisfy the expectations of her 12-year-old self to become a famous writer. I could see where her pain was coming from, but I couldn't tell her 'you need to find the real you underneath all that, and release yourself from the expectations from days when you didn't know so much about yourself as you do now. And then you will know what will make you happy, and nothing else will matter.'
A few minutes after I hang up with Alexia, Amanda calls. She never tells me if something is wrong because she is brave and tries to be strong and think things through first. But because we share a supernatural bond I can tell when she is troubled. I wish I had listened more closely to the tone of her voice before spouting off excitedly about my solitary walks around the city, and how I love it, and how I feel like for now, Boston is really, truly my home. I noticed afterward and she told me she was back in Maui, and awestruck and adjusting.
I remember a conversation I had with her once when we were both feeling a little blue and lost. She told me she felt a bit down, like everybody does sometimes- only on top of that, she felt guilty. Because she felt down in paradise. I had these moments when I was in Maui too, and I feel for her because it's one thing to be down; it's another thing to feel that bad and then to feel like you have no right to on account of your environment.
And I could see where her pain was coming from. But I couldn't tell her, 'You can feel blessed in a wretched place, and cursed in paradise- your environment can influence, but is not the source of joy and sorrow.'
Why can't I tell them? It's not that I couldn't, it's just that I know they already know. I have been in their shoes, and felt what they feel- just like they have been in mine.
We know that things will pass and clarity will re-surface. But this doesn't change the fact that sometimes we just feel jealous, or insecure, or guilty. It is during times such as these that we catch glimpses of the relationship between the god and the human in us. The relationship between knowing and feeling. The relationship between the Truth and being.
At first I sat and listened to first Rachel, and then Alexia and found myself getting frustrated. I wanted to show them and tell them those things they already knew, and that they didn't need to stress so much and feel so bad. I wanted to point out how silly they were being, and didn't they know these things?
"I'm sorry," I said to Alexia, after yelling at her to pull herself together and realize how strong she could be. "I don't mean to get so angry with you. I just love you and I know you know better than to hurt yourself like this, and I get frustrated."
And she said, "I know you love me. I just need you to listen because I don't want to fall apart alone."
Because I love them as I love myself, I sat and tried to think about what they need.
They did not need me to tell them something they already knew.
Knowing these things are True is important... but it's something different than experiencing Truth.
It is the difference between learning, and realization.
It's like reading everything there is to know about piano playing, versus playing by ear- learning by tapping away awkwardly and painfully at the keys until you start to get a sense of the relationship between your fingers, and the sounds, and What Feels Right.
You can learn to play all the sheet music in the world with knowledge and practice, but to speak fluidly from the soul- more fluently than with words, even- you have to Be it.
You have to Be heart-hands-fingers-keys-soundwaves-ears-heart. As if the piano were part of you. As if it were like your legs, and you were an infant learning to walk.
I love them and I want to help them. I thought if I loved them then I should try to take away their pain and confusion. If I could only get them to learn the Truth of the matter- but who am I, in all my frustration and impatience, to teach them about unecessary bad feelings? It's not about learning, anyway.
It's about Being.
Taking away their suffering and pain would be like wishing they were deaf, dumb and blind. We know it hurts, but like fear, it is neither inherently good or bad- it is an experience of Truth. A sensation. It is reaching out and feeling, and touching, and understanding.
And so I realized something that I already knew- that there was nothing I could do, because there was nothing TO do- because it wasn't about action, either.
After all this frustration, I realized that all they needed was for me to love, and care, and listen. To Be there. Just that. That is all. Which is effortless, because I just do.
How does this (seemingly) obvious realization come into Being?
I realize this only after a lot of frustration, and blowing up at friends, and pain for myself and others. I realize it through experience. Love-heart-mouth-ear-heart-love. I realize it in my bones, like it is my legs and I have learned to walk.
Where is the mind in all this, and knowing? It's like a diver perfecting his dive. It's like an archer perfecting his aim. While at first these actions take an excruciating amount of conscious effort, at some point the mind steps aside in reverence to the effortlessly calibrated perfection of experience.
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