Shredding the Envelope

Time Out

2007-03-07T16:41:00.000-05:00

Ah, well. I recently returned to NYC from a week in Texas that felt like a sort of quantum leap in possibilities, alternative realities, and familiar rhythms experienced fresh as if for the first time. There will be more to come about it, I'm sure. Meantime if you've got about 20 minutes and want to drift into another reality yourself, try this:

THIS

Back yeah, but when??

2006-11-19T18:38:00.000-05:00

I know, I know, it's been longer than Jesus again. I even have a couple of mega-entries planned, one a "guest appearance" by my friend Dfitz, and second a response to it from me. But alas, this will all have to wait until I (1) meet a book deadline (2) recover from moving into a new office still under construction (the office, not me) and (3) get back from Texas, where I am headed very soon for a much-needed break.

Meantime (see above-referenced book deadline) I just found something attributed to Alan Watts that I liked very much. Here 'tis:

It is, indeed, a remarkable circumstance that when Western civilization discovers [the theory of] Relativity it applies it to the manufacture of atom-bombs, whereas Oriental civilization applies it to the development of new states of consciousness.

Geez

2006-10-20T21:08:00.000-04:00

I've been gone longer than Jesus, thinking all the while I'll get back to this little island in the midst of all the insanity "soon."

Might be mostly because of my political / "socially conscious" brain. I mean, things are such a disaster on every front, where to start? North Korea and it's smalltime nuclear affront? Iraq and it's too-many-even-to-comprehend list of inevitable declines into murderous chaos? The pathetic Mark Foley affair (how a gay person can be a Republican is beyond me) and the fact that the sheer titillation of it overwhelmed the demise of habeus corpus as a principle in American law? The Orwellian surreality of GW beginning some recent speech by saying, "The other side is gonna engage in partisan attacks" ...And last but certainly not least, the continuing wimpiness of Democrats (except for good ol' Bill) in their reluctance to stand for fucking anything whatsoever... I mean, WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?????

Sigh.

I can't possibly catch up.

So, as I often do when I'm at my wits' end, I defer to my friend Osho, who is expert in calling a spade a fucking spade. The problem is, in Osho's words, as follows:

The average mental age of human beings on the earth today is not more than twelve years. When for the first time this was discovered, it was such a shock. Nobody had ever thought about it; it was just by accident that it became known. In the First World War, for the first time in human history, the people who were candidates, who wanted to enter the army, were examined. Their mental age was inquired into, their IQ was determined. This was a great revelation -- that they were not more than twelve years; the average age was just twelve years.

This is childishness. The body goes on growing, and the mind has stopped at the age of twelve. What kind of humanity have we created on this earth? Why does the mind stop at twelve? Because by the time one is twelve, one has gathered all kinds of beliefs; one is already a believer, one already "knows" what truth is. - Osho, The Book of Wisdom #3

Humanity goes on accumulating a certain quantity of neurosis, madness: each decade, it has to throw it out. So when there is war -- war means when humanity has gone mad as a whole -- then there is no need to go mad privately; what is the point? All are mad -- then there is no point in trying to become mad privately. When one nation is murdering another, and there is so much suicide and murder, what is the point of doing these things on your own? You can simply look at the TV and enjoy, you can read it in the papers and have the thrill.

The problem is not war, the problem is individual neurosis. - Osho, The Divine Melody, #8

What have these governments done? They have not done anything for the people except exploit them, exploit their fear, and set them against each other. A continuity of war somewhere or other on the earth is almost an absolute necessity for politicians to exist. - Osho, From Darkness to Light, #14

And finally...

What is the need of nations?

The whole earth is one.

Only on the maps do you go on drawing lines, and over those lines you go on fighting and killing and murdering. It is such a stupid game that unless the whole of humanity is mad, it is impossible to think how it goes on continuing. - Osho, From Ignorance to Innocence, #14

I'll be back. Sooner rather than later, perhaps.

For audio files of the complete discourses of the above-quoted things, see www.osho.com/audiobooks and look for the referenced files by alphabet.

9.11 bla-bla-bla...

2006-09-11T23:38:00.000-04:00

For the life of me I don't get it why people still persist in saying that GW's bullhorn performance on the rubble of the World Trade Center was his "finest hour." I mean, it might have been, relatively speaking, in terms of all his "hours" in office. But the implication that there was something glorious and wonderful about it in and of itself? I mean... the man was playing CHEERLEADER for godsake. Contrast his photo-op performance with any average fireman or cop or volunteer digger-outer or steelworker in the aftermath of that day... See what I mean?

Meantime... I couldn't resist tuning into the CNN "Pipeline" re-broadcast of the day's news. And I was struck by the fact that the immediacy of it had the power, five years on, to affect me emotionally in that visceral way that real emotions affect a person. The image I was looking for - the image that has stuck with me most compellingly out of all the images that survive in memory since that day - wasn't captured by the CNN cameras, as it turns out. Whatever TV I was watching on that day showed the pancaking collapse of the first tower head-on. Not just the after-effects of billowing dust shown on CNN when Aaron Brown interrupted whoever was filling time and space at the time to say something dramatic had just changed. What I remember most from that day, and from that non-CNN image I saw, was the immediate thought in my mind that all those firemen and cops and ambulance people who had rushed there to deal with the fires were being crushed in that collapse at that moment.

As I watched the run-up to the collapse, knowing it was to happen at any moment, I felt fear. When the image didn't match my memory, it was a kind of anti-climax.

Nobody, in all the interviews and the bla-bla-bla around it, has echoed my own sense of what was really important about that event. For me, it was that collective sense we had for just a few days that life itself was not something to be depended upon. There was both tragedy and ecstasy in that collective realization ... tragedy for those who lost loved ones so suddenly and unexpectedly, and ecstasy for those of us who had the opportunity, however short-lived, to realize how utterly precious and irreplaceable is this present moment of being alive. And the fact we were all going through it together made it immeasurably even more precious.

Two very particular memories.

One - My simple, heart-full, uneducated, "redneck" dad ... confessed that this was the second time in his life he had actually allowed himself to weep. And as part of the confession he told me that the first time - an utter revelation to me, even more significant - had been the National Guard shooting and killing of students at Kent State in Ohio during an anti-war demonstration. A few days later he sent me a check made out to the Red Cross - because he didn't quite trust giving it to his local chapter, and he wanted it to go directly where it might count most.

Two - getting on a bus to go to work, in the days when they were free because the subways weren't running. Crowded, packed to the max... I edged my way in and felt it immediately, the melting into one another that we were all allowing. No armor, no stiffness of distance of protecting our own space. We were vulnerable human beings all in this together. There was - dare I say it? - love among us, in place of the usual indifference, suspicion or distrust.

Keith Olbermann did another one tonight, by the way. No doubt it will be up on YouTube in the morning, in multiples.

I'll be back.

The video

2006-08-31T12:25:00.000-04:00

Don't Miss This One

2006-08-30T21:12:00.000-04:00

Olbermann's impassioned response to Rummy's latest ought to go down in history. Maybe it will. My only complaint - and it is not insignificant - is that MSNBC didn't have the good common sense to give at least three beats of respectful silence before bring Tucker Carlson's babyfaced inanities to the screen. Like... "Quick! Ignore what you just heard, take this little opium-for-the-masses tabloid pill!"

It's the ideology, stupid!

2006-08-24T22:53:00.000-04:00

That’s what occurred to me today. That the reason we’re confronted with so many “none of the above” so-called choices in our lives is because there’s too much goddamned ideology around. People label themselves “conservative” or “liberal” or “socialist” … Democrat or Republican, Tory or Labor (Labour, excuse me)… or for that matter Cuban, American, Mexican, Christian, German, Jew, Aryan, Indian, Hindu, Buddhist, Muslim… I mean, there’s a gazillion envelopes out there (back to my theme) for people to try on, and choose (if they are so lucky to be able to choose) one that seems to fit.

And then – when they find it so very comfy and reassuring inside their envelope, they decide that if everybody else joins them in wearing the same model, All Problems Will Be Solved. Sometimes people get so passionate and identified that they turn into missionaries, because of course they want everybody else to be as happy and comfy and reassured as they are. So they run around trying to make other people See The Light. Bring democracy to the Middle East (or is that the Middle Ages) for example. Or throw paint on people who wear fur coats, make everybody have a baby whether they want one or not, build a wall between the US and Mexico, have a dictatorship of the proletariat -- whatever your schtick is.

I recently ran up against 'stupid ideology' when I tried to share the story of Wafa Sultan with some past-life friends and acquaintances from the 1960s “new left” end of the spectrum. She is this incredibly courageous woman originally from Syria now living and working in California, who put her neck on the line in an amazing interview on Al Jazeera. And got herself sure enough “fatwah’ed” for it. The first response? “Oh yes, that woman – she was put up to it by the Jews,” or “she doesn’t acknowledge all the underlying causes for Muslim extremism, which are mostly our fault.” Etc. on and on, blablabla. They were almost without exception so blinded by their chosen ideology that they couldn’t even look into what the woman was saying to see whether or not it had any truth in it.

It ain’t all black & white, people. I mean… even Ronald Reagan danced with Gorbachev to bring down The Wall. Richard Nixon opened doors to China that had been closed for decades. Lyndon Johnson pushed the Civil Rights Act right through Congress and the whole of the American South. George W’s plan for dealing with immigrants from south o’ the border makes absolute sense, when he’s not being pressured from the right to play tough guy about the borders first and foremost. I guess he learned a thing or two from living in Texas after all.

So, related to all that, I got curious about how “kinky is awesome” happened upon my humble blog (see comment on previous post) so I did what every good google-trained curious human would do, and put “kinky friedman” in the blogspot search field. He (why do I assume "kinky is awesome" is a “he”? something to do with how m / f minds tend to work, maybe) seems to have visited some other people too! One of my favorites was No Ordinary Princess … she gave kind of a smart answer to the awesome critique, and she doesn’t even live in Texas! He, however, unless his blog is actually a Stephen Colbert inspired riff, seems to have mis-underestimated me as a "liberal." Fair enough. I did the same to him.

I’ll be back, y’all. At which time I do hope the Blogspot help crew will have figured out why my picture uploader isn’t working.

Deep in the Heart

2006-08-24T09:56:00.000-04:00

Above: Detail from one of the hand-painted tanks at “Carl’s Corner,”
a truck stop that sells biodiesel fuel in Texas, on Interstate 35
between Dallas and Waco. Carl (Cornelius) himself is a friend
of Willie Nelson, who first persuaded him to convert to biodiesel
rather than selling his business and retiring.
"We want to create an alternate fuel city,” says Carl now.
“Wind power, diesel power, solar power, soybeans, sunflower seeds,
mustard seeds -- all kinds of alternate fuels."

Listening to NPR this morning ... yes, I'm one of those people who wakes up to NPR! It's idling-engine speed is just right for me, to carry me out of wherever it is I've been while I was sleeping as I amble towards the kitchen to perform the kettle / water / cup / filter / coffee (very strong) ritual, and thence to my minimalist breakfast, maximalist shower, and the official start of my day.

Ahem.

Listening to NPR this morning, I was reminded how my brother Bill takes every opportunity to make people aware that George W. is NOT -- repeat, NOT -- a Texan. A wannabe, maybe -- imported from Connecticut at a vulnreable age and suffering from massive inferiority complex ever since -- but the man is not a Texan.

My brother is. I am too, deep down in my heart -- a fact that generally escapes people's notice till they get to know me. So is Ann Richards, a Texan. (God, I hope I have that woman's wrinkles when I'm her age, they are magnificent.) The Dixie Chicks. Willie Nelson -- he's got good wrinkles too. Kinky "Why the hell not?" Friedman, who's presently running as an Independent for governor on a "compassionate redneck" platform. Janis Joplin, Lyndon Baines Johnson ... and Billy Lee Brammer, his onetime press secretary, who afterwards wrote what most critics consider to be the only truly great American political novel, The Gay Place. (As in F. Scott Fitzgerald, not as in "we're here, we're queer.") Larry McMurtry, who I could go on and on about, and whose brilliant statement about what cowboys really represent I unfortunately can't locate right now.

Etcetera, on and on -- any Who's Who of Great American Eccentrics would have a disproportionate number of Texans on it, is my guess.

For the NPR story that provoked this sudden outburst of homesickness and Texan-identification, go here. The excuse for the story is biodiesel fuel -- who's behind it, selling it, how it's made, etc. It includes music, great characters, humor, a bit of science, and a charming drawl. The real story is about what lies deep in the heart of Texas. If we can ever rescue it from the trauma it's suffered at the hands of that Connecticut interloper and his pathetic toadies, and restore it to its rightful place, the healing of the entire "heartland" will surely follow close behind.

I'll be back.

Nothing to Fear But Fear Itself? - Viewsworthy Olbermann

2006-08-15T13:17:00.000-04:00

For the video enabled who didn’t see the MSNBC original, catch Keith Olbermann’s “top 10 coincidences of terror warnings intersecting with times of political turmoil” shown on the August 14th “Countdown.” Chilling -- though I hope somebody soon makes it into a nice graphic-plus-text timeline that I the huddled masses won’t have to run so fast to keep up with and grok. Watch it here.

Unexpectabilities

2006-08-12T00:15:00.000-04:00

Today, despite my best-laid plans and anticipations, evolved into what was mostly a Relationship Day. Incoming emails, phone calls, “do lists,” chats with friends over lunch … all converged around that one eternally human and compelling theme. And, typically – what “relationship” doesn’t lead to it, in one way or another? – now that it’s over I feel a bit exhausted, and not much in a mood to do anything but brush my teeth and go to bed, trusting in the “another day”-ness of tomorrow.

But before I can do that, I am compelled to share the fruits of the best and brightest gift that came my way from a friend who offhand suggested I put “quirkyalone” (one word) into Google and see what came up. My favorites were as follows:

1) “The Original Essay” – by Sasha Cagen. Who wraps a rather nice essay around a rather nice quote from Rilke, as follows:

I recommend reading the patron saint of solitude: German poet Rainer Maria Rilke. Even 100 years after its publication, Letters to a Young Poet still feels like it was written for us: "You should not let yourself be confused in your solitude by the fact that there is something in you that wants to break out of it," Rilke writes. "People have (with the help of conventions) oriented all their solutions toward the easy and toward the easiest side of easy, but it is clear that we must hold to that which is difficult."

2) The questionnaire on Sasha’s blog, “To Do List”. Look for the August 3 post and accept the invitation to fill out the questionnaire. One of my guilty pleasures is filling out questionnaires and surveys – partly because I have a kind of horror fascination with the intractable and unanswerable assumptions they usually contain. But this one was truly a pleasure – as free from “envelope” as circumstantially possible, and I was provoked to really look at myself in ways I haven’t done in a while. Check it out. It’s fun.

All of which led to another gift, which is from an out-of-print work by Osho, A Tongue-Tip Taste of Tao (more or less represented in a book that is in print thanks to St. Martin's Press, called Love, Freedom, Aloneness):

The most fundamental state is that of aloneness. Everything else is later on, everything else is an addition, but the foundation of our being is utter aloneness. We come in the world alone; then of course many kinds of relationships arise, which are beautiful. We form many friendships, love affairs -- that is all good -- but one should not forget the basic aloneness, otherwise one gets lost in the crowd. And one day we have to leave alone, again, and then nobody is going to be with us. Alone we come, alone we go.

That aloneness has not to be forgotten. One who keeps constantly rooted in that aloneness remains in the world and yet remains unaffected by it. Then there is a kind of centering which continuously remains. One can be in the marketplace but the meditation continues. One can move in a love relationship but the relationship does not become a confusion, a cloud, a darkness, never -- the inner light goes on burning.

And when you know that you are alone your love has a totally different quality to it; then you are never dependent. You can share, you can give, you can take -- you are free to take and to give and to share -- but you are never dependent. Whenever love becomes dependent it becomes ugly; then one starts clinging. Whenever love becomes dependent one is afraid that if one loses the other, one will be alone. And one is afraid of being alone -- so cling, be possessive, be jealous, close all the doors so the other cannot escape.

That kills the other, and you cannot love a dead person.

This is the dilemma of love: we can love only a free person, because whenever out of his freedom he gives love there is beauty. But we don't leave him free; we close all the doors to his freedom. We make him a prisoner, and then we are surprised -- where has the love disappeared to? Even if he loves it is the love of a slave; it is a kind of duty to be fulfilled. Then there is no joy in it, no thrill. You don't feel enhanced, ecstatic about it. That's what all lovers go on doing: they want the other to give love with total freedom and yet they don't leave the other free. This is a double-bind.

To come out of it only one thing can help and that is to remember one's absolute aloneness. If you really start remembering it and being it, you will be surprised: no love can be so fulfilling as this experience of aloneness is. It is not scary... in the beginning of course it is, but the deeper you go into it, it becomes more and more beautiful, more and more peaceful. And whenever out of that rootedness you come and share your love, it is a tremendous gift. Whosoever will get it will feel blessed, and in return love showers on you a thousandfold.

The real lover is one who knows how to be alone.

(c) Osho International Foundation

I’ll be back.

Synchronicities

2006-08-11T15:44:00.000-04:00

This morning I woke up to a message from one of my assortment of oddball friends, with this cartoon attached. Unfortunately he didn't include a credit - so I post it here with apologies to the creator, and a promise to rectify the situation should he/she discover it and quite rightfully want to be identified.

My friend used it as his "proof of the existence of global warming."

I, on the other hand, offer it as evidence that people might be more prepared than we think for naked air travel. (See end of last night's post.)

More later.

Difficult Beginnings

2006-08-10T20:40:00.000-04:00

I kept thinking, Gosh, how do I start this. Or, rather, “How does one start a blog for godsake?” Because the nature of my particular paralysis – not just around starting a blog but around any other thing I haven’t already done at least once – is the Desire to Get It Right the First Time. Which of course arises out of all sorts of internalized judgments, educational mishaps, inherent character flaws, ego disguised as humbleness, and an unhealthy obsession with unearthing the most elusive nuances of my own motivations (not to mention the motivations of others, but for some reason those always seem much easier to see than my own). Combined with astrological accidents and the fact my kindergarten teacher told me “nice girls don’t shout.” You get the drift.

Besides the psychobabble dynamics, there are two kinds of writers, I’ve noticed – and by writers I mean people who actually write for public consumption rather than in diaries, or gossipy emails, or letters to family and friends. (1) Those who have trouble starting, and (2) those who have trouble wrapping it up. And I’m the first type, obviously.

Those who have trouble with the middle, by the way, aren’t really writers. To be a real writer, you have to give up thinking at some point. Having trouble with the middle is a symptom of the inability to stop thinking.

Whew! Now I’ve got that out of the way, I can start.

Why “Shredding the Envelope”?

Because you can push for a lifetime, but you’ll still be trapped inside the confines of an envelope. And that very envelope is what’s got us all trapped – individually and collectively – in the messes we’re in. The envelope is our most cherished ideas and assumptions, the inherited truths of our upbringing. It’s the place where culture and counter-culture clash, and words are used more to define opposites than to acknowledge complementaries. Envelopes are designed as a background for labels, expected to have destinations, categories, a limited specificity of content. The only mystery that exists in an envelope is from the outside of it, before it gets opened. And these days, most of that mystery has disappeared. When's the last time you got an envelope in the mail that didn't tell you quite plainly, even when it was trying to be tricky about it, exactly what was inside? If you’re into bodybuilding, you can keep pushing the envelope. If you want to fly free of labels and categories and inherited content, you gotta shred it.

Besides, I’ve always had an affection for the shredder from the first time I used one. What better way to dispose of a bunch of boring and mostly burdensome paper than to transform it into stuff that suggests a tickertape parade or a piñata, and can even be used to protect delicate and fragile things from breaking … like Christmas ornaments. You can have whatever feelings and opinions you like about Christmas, from Scroogeish to Fundamentalish, but don’t tell me your favorite bit isn’t the ornaments and lights.

Momentary Distraction

I started to wonder who invented the first paper shredder, and just found this:

1908 • An American, A.A. Low, is credited with inventing the first paper shredder - his 'Waste Paper Receptacle' - which was issued a patent in 1908. Utilizing a feeder and a roller with blades, paper could be reduced by use of either a hand crank or an electric motor. This, however, is neither the beginning nor end of the story of the shredder. It is also thought that an earlier version of the paper shredder was invented by an Austrian military officer in 1898, who used a foot-powered machine to destroy ballistics designs. A.A. Low never went as far as bringing his 1908 patent to manufacture, and so the first commercially produced paper shredder was produced in 1936 by a German, Adolf Ehinger, whose insipration came from a kitchen pasta maker.

Austrian military officer… German named Adolf in 1936… ah, one could get even further distracted, but one will restrain oneself for the moment.

By the way, the above history of the paper shredder comes from a charming and informative Time Line of Waste –created by the English, of course. All the American entries on the subject appearing in the first couple pages of Google results were essentially “infomercials” for paper-shredder vendors. This one comes from St Andrews University, and the opening page of the timeline, which goes all the way back to the 11th century, has this very cool image as a link to even more American WWII posters that will remind you to wonder if “keep on shopping” is really the most creative push of the wartime patriotism envelope that the Bushniks could come up with.

Which leads me to Today’s Contribution to News Punditry:

Ultimate Airline Security:
Starting September 1, 2006 all passengers will be required to check their luggage 24 hours prior to departure for shipment on an unmanned cargo drone to their intended destination. At the time of check-in, all passengers shall be required to disrobe. All clothing, shoes and accessories to be donated to a faith-based charitable organization. No passenger or crew member will be cleared through security or seated on the plane unless they are completely naked. Oh, and don't forget to pack your arrival costume on top.

Don’t laugh. Once a critical mass of experienced naked air travelers is reached, I’m betting on world peace (and an end to pornography) to be just around the corner.

And by the way – did you notice how they used even the Chertoff / Gonzales press conference as a midterm elections campaign op? Blech. (The English would never do that sort of thing.)

I’ll be back.

Acknowledgements

2006-07-14T22:47:00.000-04:00

Thanks to Karla, my sometime acting buddy, for inspiration. To my brother Bill for being able to read my mind even when I'm not thinking. And to every mystery that refuses to be analyzed, dissected, and put in an envelope.