Be Your Own Guru

Regarding yesterday's posting, which sounds a little more disgruntled than I feel today, I have decided to go through the book again to remind myself exactly how I can be my own guru. Really, I have a great deal of respect for the person I sort of criticized for merely selling products related to a really good book she has written. More power to her! At this point, however, I cannot afford the package deal she is selling so am going to go back through the book, doing the practice exercises as she suggests.

See, here I think is what bugged me about the idea of having to buy more stuff in order to get the most out of what she is offering. First, I resented that the book promised to teach me everything I needed to know. In fact, when I finished reading it the first time I was satisfied that it had done exactly that. So, when an e-mail comes along suggesting that I need to also purchase videos, I thought, "Wait a minute. Why is the book not enough?" (Go back and read what I wrote yesterday for more thoughts about it.) Next, it bothered me that even after buying the additional materials, I still would not have personal access to the author.

In reality, this is asking too much! There is no way she can have a personal relationship with people who read her book and would like to talk with her about the ideas. Not for free anyway, and I am just in no position to pay for the kind of mentoring I would like from her. Besides, she is not offering that kind of support because a person in her position could not have any kind of a normal life and at the same time give such intimate personal support to her students.

So! What all of this is saying is that I have faith in the book and am going to work through it again. The author has a forum at her website and it looks like I found a few others who are just starting to work through the book, too, so we can mentor each other, I hope.

Paying for a Guru

Or maybe I should have titled this "Praying for a Guru." The funny thing is, what I have to say today is about someone who has been touted as the ideal person to teach you to be your own guru. Yes, that's right. I'm not going to name names here, am going to keep this completely anonymous. But let me be clear. What this be-your-own-guru Guru is now doing is selling a big huge package deal, complete with videos and who knows what, all to convey the same information that was previously conveyed in a book! Now, if you read the book then that should have been all you need to do in order to learn how to be your own guru. But no, the book apparently is not enough. But ... I thought ... wait ... didn't that book have it all? Why is the person who wrote the book now selling videos promising what the book promised? Are the videos for people who can't read? Are they for people who, for whatever reason, are inspired more by a voice talking out loud within earshot than by that very same voice speaking inside the covers of a book? I don't know. And I'm really not "knocking" this person. (Oh, who are you kidding? You are too knocking that person.) Okay, so I am. So what? What I am really trying to do is figure out whether I want to buy this new package deal or not. In other words, I have the book. Do I need to see the movie, too? Didn't I already learn how to be my own guru? I thought so.

No Ordinary Moments

(Click on the image for an enlarged view.)

Theatre of the Absurd

Don't have too much to say today, the weather here is too nice to be sitting inside at a keyboard typing for too long, but this week I have been thinking about the connection between Theatre of the Absurd and fascism. Yes, of all things! Well, what got me started on this was my friend Gary (who doesn't have a website and so I can't "point" you to him) mentioned he had taken a course in college about this and was, for whatever reason, thinking about it one day this past week. Well, I mentioned it to my theatre-wise daughter and sure enough she had some thoughts about it, namely that Luigi Pirandello, one of the playwrights who influenced others who came to be known as absurdists, had given his Nobel medal over to the Italian government "to be melted down" for the sake of helping out with that country's annexation of Abyssinia. Not sure what, if anything, this is worth to you, but there you have it, my contribution for today.

Telling Stories

I do not understand this world at all. One of my friends is in what I view as a horrible situation, faced with poverty unless she does something that will eventually create even more hardship and difficulty, especially for her children. It is complex and complicated and I do not wish to discuss it here, just want to acknowledge it and to wish my friend well, hope she finds a way to "fix" the situation and live in relative comfort with the outcome. Enough on that subject.

I have enjoyed reading true crime stories for many years now and thus when I discovered that Steve Salerno had not only written one but one that took place right here in Texas (crime central), I checked to see whether the book is available in the library where I typically check out such books. Sure enough, they had Deadly Blessing and I brought it home this past Saturday. It's good, real good. And the family dramas that unfold on those pages are ones painfully familiar to me; they remind me of many situations in my own life, like power struggles and influence garnering.

One of the reasons I love crime stories is because they help me put my own life story in perspective. Another reason is they help me see how stories told are not just about the characters that "people" the stories but also about the storyteller. This goes for fictional stories, too. Maybe especially fictional stories, because sometimes the best way to tell one's own story is by projecting emotions and thoughts onto made-up people. This way, we don't slander anybody but at the same time we get whatever point we need made across.

SHAMming

Really glad to see Steve Salerno adding a new posting to his SHAMblog. I discovered his book not too long ago and then went searching for him on the Internet. About that time, he was wondering if he hadn't said all he had to say about the whole SHAM phenomenon. The questions he raises are interesting ones indeed. And SHAM is one of the best self-help books I've read in quite some time! Not the kind of response Steve is looking for, probably, but there you have it. The book helped me see some things more clearly and also opened up some new avenues of thought.

We met on the courthouse steps ...

I once had a friend
relied on this friend
to be there
to care
without judgment
minus condemnation

But something happened

And still to this day
it puzzles and
angers me
(is she afraid of anger)

Amazes me because that
rift didn't have to happen

Its ripple effects have
been devastating

I lost something precious

But

I cast no blame
no judgment
no condemnation
upon her for this

And yet still I wonder.

Containment

Nice to hear from Robin again! And is good to be here today, in this blogspot. Have been visiting Steve Salerno's SHAMblog lately and thinking a lot about the things he says. Even though he is (apparently) closing up shop, there is plenty of good material to read through over there.

Today, however, I share a ... mm, not sure what to call this as it is not really a poem but a word stream. Yes, that it is what it is, a word stream inspired by a conversation about Bo Diddley, may he rest in eternal peace.

sad sounds from a person who lives despite consequences
who chooses those dirty deeds (done dirt cheap) as if there
were some other choice but to waste words on fetid breath
but hell, we all know it's not the words but the dance that matters
scowling at the moon, we dance our gipsy danse, twirling 'round
angry that no words will do but making do with that nasty dance
tastes good feels rotten gets going to become ripe like fruit again
sworn to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, a witness sees
watching melancholy out of eyes colored the same, seeing
fairly clearly, accurately -yes- and this means i recognize
my brother my sister we chose thus and seeing our own
reflection looking back looking up toward that same scowling moon
wind screeching all around and yet today only happens once
in this lifetime and still the cheerful message drones on and on
even though it shows what nobody really wants to see but if i
keep it to myself any longer or any farther down this endless road
then i might just implode into myself, and we know how tragic that can be
yes if it rains the parade will still go by even though we're all wet
the water reminds us the parade is not a charade but a gift like
wild horses running free across the landscape of dreams aplenty
okay so they won't come true i can still dream them can't i
and help myself to a piece of that pie the yummy yummy pie
the grand old pie made with a tasty upper and lower crust
if we all must eventually settle on rock bottom and yes we must
it is from that position we realize up ^ looks utterly best and that
we really do all of us get what we deserve and nothing less
now is not the same as here for now is gone the instant you say
now for now is no more but here is being present despite the fact
the mere fact so mere that it dissipates into the thinnest of airs
that now just passed away in time that might still exist even though
the eternity in which we love and love forever it seems is within reach.

So, ...

What does it really mean when someone is "too controlling." The control freak always gets a bad rap, and yet I wonder how a person exists without being "controlling" to any real extent. I mean, even when "losing" control and throwing a temper tantrum or whatever, a person controls a situation by making a big scene in it.

Something disturbing happened last night at the grocery store with my daughter. We went up to the deli counter to get some sliced meat and cheese for sandwiches. When the woman came to wait on us, I noticed right away that her face was bruised, especially around one of her eyes. My first thought was that a boyfriend or husband had hit her. But of course I didn't know this for sure. In addition to being bruised, her demeanor was also very disturbed; she was literally on the verge of tears and had either been crying or was about to start at any moment.

Bad situation there, her on the job out in public with this private "problem" that made probably everyone she came into contact with that day more than a little uncomfortable, the ones who noticed, anyway. My daughter wasn't paying attention and so didn't notice her. I said, very quietly while the woman was slicing our cheese, that it looks like she's been battered. My daughter thought I spoke too loudly (although I'm pretty sure I didn't) and told me to "not talk about it," that I would make the situation worse by (obviously, she thought) talking behind the woman's back, which is in essence what I was doing.

Later, after thinking about what had happened, I had to agree with her and wished that I had said something directly to the woman instead of just pointing out her injuries to my daughter with a whispered, "Did you notice..." Just a simple, "Is there anything I can do to help?" or "Do you need help? (probably better) would have been more appropriate.

I still wonder, is that woman in danger? But back to control, think about what happens when a person loses control and thus "gains" another kind of control.

Long time no ...

Yes, it has been a very long time since I wrote in this blog.

Today I offer this, a simple story. I hope you like it.

There once was a word who went missing. Not a single conversation anywhere contained this word, although it had been there many times before. Where did the word go? Nobody knew and, of course, no one could say. The children were the first ones to notice the absent word. Something was amiss in the classroom; things just weren't the same. The wise people were the first ones to figure out the missing word, to actually name it. But because they considered knowledge of the word a great and glorious secret, they kept it to themselves. After all, if they actually spoke the word out loud, the mystery would be solved and the drama would be over. It was more fun to watch the people keep guessing about this confounded word. They never told, just kept it to themselves. To this day, the word is still missing from the story, "The Case of the Absent Word."

I did it!

NaNoWriMo

Rainbow

Photo courtesy of David Charlesworth
(Click on it to see the image up close.)

A rainbow can only be formed by conditions present, brought forth by the sheer weight and substance of what came before, in the past present. But now, behold the rainbow.

Light breaking through clouds

Photo courtesy of David Charlesworth

Hologram

One day almost a year ago (October 21, 2006, which if you look closely you can see encoded in the drawing), I sat down with paper and colored pens and doodled out my thoughts, letting them go where they wanted to go. The result was a colorful mishmash of words and lines, statements of my state that day and perhaps a kind of hologram of my life, as it stood that day and reflecting all other days. I found this piece of art recently and looked at it again.

A few weeks ago, or maybe more than a month, I don't remember, I got out a blank watercolor page the size of a bookmark, picked up my paintbrush, and created a bookmark.

I thought to put them together and see how they look.

If you click on the image, you can enlarge it enough to read the words.

Removing the Veil

Removing the veil covering the dilemma is a topic I keep returning to, again and again. Perhaps it is because of my natural tendency toward "all or nothing" thinking. Now, before you accuse me (justified or not), let me admit right here and now: I am guilty! Yes, I see in black and white sometimes, forgetting about the colors. Sometimes, I see in colors and forget about the black and white. Both ways are all-or-nothing ways of seeing, or of not seeing the full spectrum, everything rather than just selected things, extreme things, while neglecting to see all else. The subtleties of life are such that we simply must remove our veils, the ones that blind us to what we are not seeing.

Okay, enough of an introduction. The dilemma is something we all face at one time or another. We think we have two options and that one must be discarded in favor of the other one. Neither option is desirable and yet we must deem one more undesirable than the other. But how often, I wonder, do we grab one of those "horns" because we cannot think of another thing to do? And how often do we end up disappointed because we chose one "bad" thing over another bad thing. Perhaps a different way of looking at the situation is in order here.

Very often, discussion of a matter leads people to a point where they decide, "We must decide!" And if the decision to decide is premature, then problems enter in. People feel misunderstood, cheated, betrayed, alienated, ignored, and any number of other uncomfortable states of being.

Discussion has its merits, without doubt, but it is dialogue that has the power to bring people into true communication with one another. It is dialogue that can cut through the negativity of all those things I just mentioned, being misunderstood, cheated, and so on.

I propose that next time you are faced with what looks like a dilemma, instead of choosing one unpleasant thing over another, try reframing the issue. Don't look at it as a dilemma but as an opportunity to add color, or to touch up with a dab of black, or of white, or even to blend the black and white into grey, or darken or lighten particular colors in your picture with either black or white to give them a different variation (brightness, for example) on the same hue.

This is all metaphor, of course, to represent the fact that life is like painting in that you can be highly creative with it. I am frustrated with some aspects of my life right now, am not getting the results that I have hoped for; but I haven't tried some things yet, and in no way will abandon creativity.

One of my biggest problems seems to be how to respond when a person doesn't behave as I think he or she should be behaving, as if my paltry wishes should or could dictate that person's behavior. Detaching from my own expectations is the beginning of allowing unfolding to occur as it should, as it must.

I will not give up hope that everything I desire is within my grasp, despite all obstacles and regardless of the dilemmas that crowd my imagination. That is the beauty of the imagination itself, the ability to shape and form it through seeing, until it finally begins to serve us in ways leading toward this eventual attainment of our our heart's desire, as individuals and as a community desirous of peace and harmony. It doesn't happen overnight; it is a gradual process; and while it isn't easy, it actually does ease tension once the barriers have been broken and real contact has been made.

Kaleidoscope

Bad art is okay!

I was messing around (literally) with paints the other day and created a really bad painting. Not wanting it to go to waste, I decided to butcher it a little and create a really bad collage! The centerpiece is not mine; it is a patch that I "patched" (actually glued) in. It says that I kitty bad kitties, and I do.

It

It
is not personal,
it is common
knowledge;
and it is, too,
personal.
Is it uncommon
to experience the
extraordinarily
ordinary emotions
that we all know
far too well?
It knows that
not caring
means
not receiving.

I give it up,
again,
surrendering
all that,
the part of it,
that is outside
my control.

It is, and will be
forevermore,
in that space
that place
the untouchable.
Forgiven, but
who can forget?

It keeps coming back,
haunting, brooding.
Go away.
Okay.
Come back.
It is personal,
and yet it's not.

It is real,
and it is
real hands off
this time.
Palms up,
head down.

Squinting into
the distance,
with eyes closed.

Labyrinth of Petals

This is a watercolor painting of mine that is the inspiration for an ongoing story I have posted in another blog.