Sunday, December 26, 2010

What Makes Me Weird

Anyone in a lost moment, a moment of dropping completely in, is beautiful - no matter who they are or what they think of themselves. When you drop completely, you get directly in touch with the hard-to-handle loveliness of all; you almost can't stand it, and anything you're able to ignore otherwise you can't ignore now - primal things, soul, "all the wants and hungers".

Meditation, not in a perfumed room, but the real meditation of being in a foul mood on an "ugly" day before the ocean, alone on a rock or walking a rainy shoreline. Everything clears in a moment of deep, running pain. 

In the jagged coasts, the wet skies, trash in the gutters, dirt on skin...also in things deeply, anciently primal: almost intangible oldness. 

That ancient intangible. No matter how far we try to get from it, we won't outrun it. Even humans are only a step or two from wild, a pure and simple and intelligent wild. Our disembodiment is a choice, and maybe even beyond that, a fraud. Or not even. Maybe just a trick of the light. 

Saturday, December 18, 2010

We Fall Back

Two very similar comments from two very different sources. Or, again, are they different? Sometimes that which seems quite far away actually stands right beside you...

"One day we step back and decide to pay our imaginary debt to society. We accept the death of our true selves. And the great fraud is that this death troubles no one. To the contrary, it is watched for, welcomed, and rewarded." - Lalita Devi, from Tantric Quest

"At such times there is a song going on within us, a song to which we listen. It fills us with surprise. We marvel at it. We would continue to hear it. But few are capable of holding themselves in the state of listening to their own song. Intellectuality steps in and as the song within us is of the utmost sensitiveness, it retires in the presence of the cold, material intellect. It is aristocratic and will not associate itself with the commonplace - and we fall back and become our ordinary selves. Yet we live in the memory of these songs which in moments of intellectual inadvertence have been possible to us. They are the pinnacles of experience and it is the desire to express these intimate sensations, this song from within us, that motivates the masters of all art." - Robert Henri, from The Art Spirit

- Photo property of gladygirlca @ - 

Thursday, December 16, 2010

On The Way To What May Be

It's difficult to stay on top of this thing when one's hard drive goes on strike and one's body seems to be doing the same. Hold yourselves over on this, my few readers, until I get Old Unreliable and my bag of bones up and running again.

"There are moments in our lives, there are moments in a day, when we seem to see beyond the usual.

Such are the moments of our greatest happiness. Such are the moments of our greatest wisdom. If one could but recall his vision by some sort of sign. It was in this hope that the arts were invented.

Sign-posts on the way to what may be. Sign-posts toward greater knowledge." - Robert Henri

 Photos from "In Memory of Mr. and Mrs. Comfort" by Richard Avedon -

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Run Like We're Awesome

"We'll take ourselves out in the street
And wear the blood in our cheeks like red roses.
We'll go from car to sleeping car and whisper in their sleeping ears,
'We were here, we were here.'
We'll set off the geese of Beverly Road.
We won't be disappointed.
We'll fight like girls for our place at the table,
Our room on the floor.
We'll set off the geese of Beverly Road.
We're the heirs to the glimmering world.
We're drunk and sparking; our legs are open,
Our hands are covered in cake
But I swear we didn't have any.
I swear we didn't have any.
We're the heirs to the glimmering world.
Oh come, come be my waitress and serve me tonight -
Serve me the sky tonight.
Oh come, come be my waitress and serve me tonight -
Serve me the sky with a big slice of lemon.
We're the heirs to the glimmering world.
Hey love, we'll get away with it:
We'll run like we're awesome, totally genius.
Hey love, we'll get away with it:
We'll run like we're awesome."

Saturday, December 4, 2010

I'm Beginning to Like My Face

A smidgen of blog-fun - got the idea from Eloise In NY. Here's seven not-really-secrets-but-more-like-random-factoids about this not-always-malcontent-yogini, chosen in total free-associated order.

1) I skeeve animal hair, despite loving animals and working in a veterinary hospital. Gore, goo, gick, etc. doesn't bother me in the slightest, but hair - when it deposits itself on the furniture, my clothing, or any place other than the animal's body - drives me insane. No, I don't cover the interior of my apartment in plastic. I just vacuum a lot. 

2) I am the girl who the other girls ask to kill the spider or weird caterpillar or whatever insect wanders into territory it shouldn't be. FYI, I usually just move the offending crawly critter elsewhere without killing it, if I can help it. The point: crawlies don't bother me. Except for earwigs, centipedes, and assassin bugs. I respond with total visceral revulsion that's like a combination of the nails-on-chalkboard feeling and that gagging thing right before you vomit. Don't ask me why. 

3) I thought orange juice tasted vaguely like vomit until I was about 20 years old. Again, I have no clue what happened to make me think this, and I drink it all the time now and it's great. Was I a weird kid? Yeah. I am a weird kid still.

4) As a kid, the animated version of The Hobbit absolutely terrified me, especially the sequence with Bilbo and Gollum in the cave. But I think I watched that movie at least three thousand times and leafed through my dad's copy of the big fat illustrated monstrosity companion book every day after school. And then proceeded to suffer recurring nightmares for like, twelve years.

5) I think it was the year I aged from 12 to 13 that I fell asleep first at the party. Sitting upright in a chair, no less. This is the first instance of narcolepsy in my life that I remember. And there's no shades of gray. I either literally pass out in the middle of a riot or I'm the one staying awake into the dark-thirty hours wishing it never would end - despite getting only three hours of sleep the night before. 

6) I can put my body through hell. Sleep, food, dressing appropriately for the weather, whatever - it all sometimes seems utterly unnecessary and I forget to take care of it. Physical pain means very little to me, most of the time. But often I totally lack mental and emotional endurance. I've been told I possess this freakish intellect, intelligence, and ability to unravel the knot of thoughts with staggering precision - however, sometimes I wonder if I'm not some kind of savant. Because it absolutely deserts me when I need it most or in high pressure situations. Very frustrating.

7) The thing I suck at most is equilibrium. I'm either horribly logical, endlessly patient, and the bravest person you know ...or I'm flying off into the stratosphere of ill-planned decisions, jumping at every shadow I see, and manifesting monsters for my personal torment. It may not be apparent, but every day is a constant fight with myself to stay somewhere within the ever-shifting center of the center. At least I admit it. 

Thursday, December 2, 2010

And So I Thought I'd Let You Know

"You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life." - Albert Camus

" 'Well', said Pooh, 'what I like best', and then he had to stop and think. Because although eating honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called." - A.A. Milne