Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
Worship All That You See
GOD AS GUARANTOR OF CONSEQUENCES
[Compare Kierkegaard's question concerning Abraham, posed at the beginning of Fear and Trembling: If God tells you to take your only son up to an altar and slay him as a sacrifice, how do you know it is God that is speaking? And assuming you do know it's God speaking, do you obey and why?]
— Friedrich Nietzsche, sort of.
GOD AS REPRIEVE FROM CONSEQUENCES
Friday, October 20, 2006
It has always been the prerogative of children...
- Neil Gaiman
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
A Head Touched
Touching the circle of my head,
fragile circle of myth -
mother, monster, master, and mission -
pushing me thru amphetamine eternities
of memory and desire
tied and twisted into a being with little use
for a timeline or daily planner.
Goal-directed smile, inward stare, Oedipus-haunted eye,
tearful laughing moment of gods, goddesses, and godlings,
tearful laughing circle -
laughing god,
tortured myth -
empty circle of a head,
a head touched,
fragile.
It shimmered and rained thru air.I touch the fragile circle of my head,
The shards of myth are now media,
are growing, obeying an inner law,
becoming childrened, populating themselves.
New nation, new priesthood,
glistening network, machine, contract, intrigue,
dancing beneath a too-young sun.
fragile circle of a myth, broken,
and voilà, is now media -
and the medium (median?) is the message.
Transcendent eternity and transfixed moment
find each other through oscillations
of mind and heart and sense.
Buddhist calls this
The Thingness of Things Seen
and is done.
The Son of Man has no place to lay his head
and must continue.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
My grandfather told me this story...
When the two men got to the beach, they swam and then washed off the salt and lay down upon their blankets. After a few minutes, Gregro got up and grabbed his drinking cup and dug a small hole in the sand near their beachspot. Gregro then went to the sea and grabbed a cup of water and then poured it into the hole he had dug.
Again and again, Gregro went to the sea to get another cup of water, and again and again, the hole would swallow it up. After several minutes of watching his friend's endeavor, the Professor asked Gregro, "Just what is it that you're doing?"
Gregro explained, "I'm going to put the sea into this little hole I've dug."
The Professor laughed and told Gregro it would never work.
Gregro then chided the Professor, "You have put the whole universe into your head, so I don't see why I shouldn't be able to put the ocean into this hole."
Do I believe?
The Merriam-Webster etymology for "believe" reads: "Middle English beleven, from Old English belEfan, from be- + lyfan, lEfan to allow, believe; akin to Old High German gilouben to believe, Old English lEof dear -- more at LOVE." The etymology at "love" traces the root further back to the Latin lubEre, libEre to please. What this reminds me of is that there is a certain pleasure taken in the ideas one calls "beliefs." There is an affection toward these ideas, and as I have also noticed, a fierce protection surrounding these ideas.
Tinac asked me if I believe that not breathing would cause me to die. First of all, I take no pleasure in this idea; I have no affection for this idea; and I feel no need to protect this idea. Secondly, I entertain an alternative idea that someday my lungs will be so badly damaged that they will cease to be able to supply my body with the oxygen it needs. In that case, I ardently hope that someone has played with the idea of lungless respiration, i.e., a way to supply oxygen to cells through a more direct method, perhaps intravenously. So in this case, I do not believe that not breathing would cause me to die. However, until I understand that lungless respiration is available, I will entertain the "working hypothesis" that I need to breathe to survive.
This brings us to an idea that I do take pleasure in, have affection toward, and feel compelled to protect. The idea that any mind or system of knowledge is too small to comprehend the universe whole. This idea supports the attitude and practice of intellectual (or spiritual, if you prefer) humility. I see colors, I hear sounds, but I do not know why. But I still enjoy painting pictures and drawing maps of what is going on behind the perceptions that help me explain, predict, and fashion my perceptions into something that is more to my liking.
What does all this have to do with chemical abuse?
What does this have to do with AA?
Over time, I have continued to go to AA meetings. I have observed that my life, both internal and external, have improved when I attend AA meetings. I have also observed that my life quickly becomes unmanageable when I stop going to meetings. Other folks have noticed the same thing in their own lives.
The problem is that many of these folks have not learned the principle of spiritual (or intellectual, if you prefer) humility. They have an explanation for this set of correlations, (quality of life and meeting attendance) and they browbeat and connive against others that disagree with their pet theories. I personally have felt the need to escape these armchair therapists, and I have felt unsafe being an intellectual at an AA meeting.
My task is to make AA safe for the intellectual, the sceptic, and the inherently curious — to make AA safe for me.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Soliloquy
That the center shall hold...
Perhaps any center would suffice to hold.
Hold what?
Perhaps a passion, perhaps a thought.
How can a thought hold without a passion?
The hero and the saint
and the poor creature they ride,
blurring the division,
art and artist physically enmeshed,
god and beast,
nothing and something.
how the emptiness fills the statue
turns mute rock into eloquent pose,
and what the poet didn't say
is what we take away from the poem.
Spirit as art, as résumé? as social function?
as propogation of the bloodline?
God, who does not move, moves the world
as the beloved moves the lover,
but sometimes the beloved blows the lover
to smithereens.
That the beloved shall hold?
That the lover be held?
The world turn for one more day?
The sun, shall it feed tired plants
and not breathe all life away
from this thin atmosphere
into its comic cosmic wind?
Ah dream! Ah blessed moment! Ah perfect!
The razor sings to me from the bathroom sink,
and a fragrant mediterranean breeze blows across my face.
a desire to travel awakens,
a desire to go home.
That the center shall hold...
what delusion!
The center is only center because we devalued the edges.
The only task left is to devalue also the center.
To tell the truth
To tell the truth, preach the apocalypse
dredge the flickers — memory or fancy —
to tell my sorrow, to say I love you.
Many too many games.
The bridge from tender concern to concern for honor
has been crossed by the hollow soul's own gravity.
The will to gutter or glory,
the will to wife.
I have never been so close to such perfection.
Your weaknesses halo you with the light of a lonely god.
Amid the chatter of peers, the chinking of bottles,
turning of pages, droning of tutors...
There lies no meditating sage on your breast,
but the Cross of Christ.
The impossibility of our situation is no deterrent to me —
windmill jouster, bible peddler —
it merely drives me mad,
perhaps to genius.
Only that you know,
I ardently wish to leave off these games,
a healing and end to this unjust vendetta,
too long an unsuccored hurt.
Only that you know,
I pray for our child.
Personal Transcendence of Astrology,
Science, and Other Systems of Magic
After all, truth IS still stranger than fiction!i.
Truth is just the fiction you can't escape.
watch this line
as it traces its blocks upon a path,
along a direction
that falls on it from
It Knows Not Whence.and a child's fingers will blend them
into a world
that denies blocks and all
isolated units of color.
ii.
is the uncarved world
better than
The World Of Blended Blocks?or is too late to discuss
Such Things?late and early
fracture the Stream.
blend them, bend them,
send them on their way.
iii.
In the beginning of segmented time, (i.e., time as segment) was the Block, and the Block was the head of God, (even as Christ is the head of the Church) and God was that verily same Block that was his head.
All things (qua blocks) came into being through that Block, and apart from 'him' (the Block as masculine) nothing, no thing, came to be.
iv.
turning to the stars as
Brothers in Pattern,we find blocks of directions, signs;
we find blocks of energies, planets;
and we find blocks of our lifetime, houses.
blend them, bend them,
and you will discover yourself
before you turned to the stars...
v.
you will be behind them...
vi.
they bleed —
selfish suction to accumulate dust —
they bleed
the Horror...and spin
with no ground to plant their feet,
no feet to ground their space —
they spin
the Centrifuge...and the blood divides
as they spin (the blood is cut)
and we behold plasma and corpuscle.
all One in the beginning.and our brothers bleed,
and our brothers spin,
and still...
Good and Evil.vii.
words as block,
ideas as block,
people as block,
brando as block.
too far!and the consecrated block
this speech is unclean.
was carved into a god.
and the block bled with the blood
of rams, and of bulls, and of angels.
and the people carved their initials into the block,
and offered their beer cans there...
the block bore their sins
as blocks are wont to do.
viii.
as the people of the tribe named it,
it began its descent into a city.
ix.
i carved a block
into the shape of a poem...
it has never forgiven me since.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Tetralemma
Everything is either true
or it is not true
or it is both true and not true
or it is neither true or not true.
That is the Buddha's teaching.
When I say I disagree, it does not mean that I think you're wrong...
and it certainly doesn't mean that I think that I'm right. It means I am not willing to sign on to any particular side in a discussion.
What is the difference between an idea and a belief?
An belief is an idea that is looking for a fight.
What is the difference between knowledge and belief?
Knowledge is belief with some evidentiary support for belittling its opponents.
Both knowledge and belief are intellectual bad manners. When we think, we entertain a variety of ideas and a variety of observations that both support and refute the claims we are discussing. As soon as someone asserts belief or knowledge, the discussion is over and politeness is ignored.
Some may find the sceptic rude when the sceptic argues points that others have already decided. However, the believer is actually the rude person because the believer has decided that the discussion is over — and worse — that anyone still discussing the matter is pigheaded, dense, or is patronized as being naive or unlearned.
There is a rollicking kindness that looks like malice.
The sceptic wants to allow others to enter the discussion and to be allowed to present unpopular opinions. The sceptic is not looking for agreement or resolution; the sceptic wants to be the host to a good discussion.
Monday, October 09, 2006
More about the first meetings...
Many ideas and practices have been added to AA since its inception, such as counting time since one's last drink and celebrating sobriety "milestones." There are many people who like to share about how long it's been since their last drink. There are meetings where sobriety time is celebrated in countdown fashion or with a show of hands. But is this useful? Perhaps it is another cult tool for shaming the relapser into complying... or leaving. Think about it: the chronic relapser is an annoying reminder that the cult doesn't work for some people. Why not shame them out of the rooms by constantly reminding them of their "failure," especially if we can do it with a clean conscience by only speaking in terms of our "success"? After all, my mentioning my years and years of sobriety is only an expression of gratitude — or is it?A.A continued to grow — a book sold, a member added, a message passed. But there was no money, no prospect of money, no real evidence that things were changing. Indeed, all during the summer of 1939, "things" got steadily worse. The situation in Europe was darkening daily; Hitler's aggression was spreading; war looked imminent. At home, unemployment remained widespread, and for the tiny band of sober alcoholics, there was continued financial destitution. Their loyalty to one another, to their newfound sobriety, and to their leader, Bill W., seemed to increase as their circumstances declined. And everywhere, through acts of commitment, they buoyed themselves and one another, and kept their courage and confidence high.
Their courage and confidence were bolstered daily by the meetings themselves. Ruth Hock [Bill W's first secretary] described them: They were "structured to the extent that there was always one speaker and Bill — maybe half an hour each — and then a long coffee session, a real get-together. We were often there till 12 o'clock, started at eight." She also said, "At that time, we did not go into Step work. Didn't have 90 day requirements. No birthdays — no recognition was made if you were sober a week or a year. If you felt you would like to speak in a year or in a month or in two weeks, they let you get up and speak, and they didn't throw you out if you got there drunk, either. They felt it was encouraging, hoping some word would stick." —Emphasis mine.
Might it not be an expression of smug self-satisfaction?
And he spake this parable unto certain which trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others:
Two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men [are], extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all that I possess.
And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as [his] eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner. I tell you, this man went down to his house justified [rather] than the other: for every one that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.
—Luke 18:9-14.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
He who fights with monsters...
- Friedrich Nietzsche.