Walking With Waves

...thinking, wondering, imagining...lust, love, loneliness...building, dissolving, receding...this, this, only this...*




*...was walking by myself along this beach in south Jersey, from populated areas to a somewhat wilder one by the wildlife sanctuary—sand above the surf line roped off to protect nesting areas for piping plovers, people allowed to walk through but not stop, sunbathe, or swim, since the shy little birds need to run to and from the water, and won’t if anybody’s in the way...seems reasonable enough, so keep up a steady pace—seeing no plovers...(sorry, that’s not one in the picture)...though can’t deny looking probably more than watchful boyfriends like at women in bathing suits...but, more than that, another, less superficial and piggish aspect of mind caught on someone...far inland...wondering if she thinks about me...imagining, hoping...that old song...tip-toeing a narrow course between solitude and loneliness, dipping precipitously, despite such gorgeous tranquil surroundings, seemingly made for peaceful reflection, toward the latter...trying once again to be mindful...and all that...observe thoughts floating by instead of getting caught up in them...gain that awesome sense of wonder found in pondering the infinite in one’s own breath, sun on skin, cold salt water on the toes, even a bit of pain in one hip from walking so much in the sand...for a sudden moment feeling somewhat jarring comfort in the knowledge that, really, I know nothing else...the rest only thinking, imagining, longing...speculation on reality that’s always something else...and not even that ten minutes later...gettin’ all Krishnamurti-like n’ shit....and then, of course, thinking about writing about it, maybe quoting that famous William Blake line, something like “to see infinity in a grain of sand, eternity in an hour”...( having to work by memory even once the walk is through, since there’s no Collected Poems of William Blake nor consistent internet access at the beach house)...though, by the time I got back, reduced it all to the few simple formulae above...wondering if the wave thing’s too clichéd...as well as whether a cliché’s always such a bad thing....or whether anybody’s gonna get what I’m talking about at all....anyway, it works a whole lot better than all this...doncha think?

Dr. Jay Saves Lives

The other Dr. J

...this year, on the summer solstice, I...(no need to make a big deal about this, folks...I’m sure you all would have done exactly the same thing under the circumstances)...saved a life...

...to be more specific, the life of a young mannequin...like I said, no need to sing my praises for such a selfless and courageous act of heroism, which, no doubt, is exactly the course of action you yourself would have taken, if told to by a qualified CPR instructor...

...nonetheless, anybody so inspired to draw a deep, meaningful poetic connection between the saving of this imitation-life and the summer solstice may feel free to leave it below as a comment...

...more pressing is the matter of my official bio, which, evidently, needs to be changed from

the kind of doctor who, in case of emergency, can explain Faulkner while you die

to

the kind of doctor who, in case of emergency, can stand there for a minute or two looking stupid and thinking “ooooh shiiiittt” before finally stepping to the fore and saying "soooo...ummmm...anybody know CPR?...Like, y’know, other than me?...No? Oh...ummmm...okay...”...then get down on the floor and, we can only hope, remember to pull the head back and squeeze the nose, and recall that it’s two breaths to thirty compressions*...though, if that doesn’t work, we’re of course back to Plan A: “Fragmentation is central to Faulkner’s work. His entire wide and rambling Yoknapatawpha saga may be seen as a collection of fragments attempting some kind of desperate cohesion, themselves often broken up and confused...”**...***

...on second thought, maybe I’ll leave it as is...



* yes, that’s the appropriate ratio...really...get re-certified now...

** actually the first two sentences of Splendid Failures in the Old South, the first section of “One nation: no longer anywhere;” Going Native in Yoknapatawpha, itself the second chapter of my dissertation, “The Painful Task of Unifying:” Fragmented Americas and “The Indian” in the Novels of William Faulkner and N. Scott Momaday...seriously...

*** now that I think of it, change the names and it could also be a pretty reasonable description of this blog...

At a Table on a Sidewalk

...that there is so much we will never, and maybe can't ever, fathom can be comforting and terrifying, but not, usually, both at the same time...
Ancient and Revered Yoga Cynic Sutra 121:354

...at a table on a sidewalk in front of the Good Karma Cafe...(actual place, 22nd & Pine, downtown Philly, State of Noisy Contemplation, USA)...drinking coffee ’til I’m too wired to sit still...cars and the occasional bike float past...no question which is America’s favorite mode of transportation...then, no question who’s enjoying the ride more, either...

...reading about a woman at a silent vipassana retreat...trying to be silent, peaceful, meditative, and mindful, and not doing such a good job, by her own estimation, at any of the above...makes me wanna give her some encouragement...say at least you’re one up on me...I’m just reading about it...

...borrowed a pen, and actually returned it...which probably makes me prouder than it should...have never consciously stolen a pen, and yet never buy them, but somehow always have lots...am strangely unconcerned about what this means in terms of karma, sin, or ethical behavior...


...even excess can be kept to a reasonable level...
Ancient and Revered Yoga Cynic Sutra 163:889

The Almost But Not Quite Summer Solstice Post

We all know how important the summer solstice is to a wide and diverse array of traditional and modern cultures...

...(at least I think we all do)...(those of you who don’t, please Google summer solstice)...(then come right back)...(we’ll wait)...

...(everybody else, please breathe mindfully and maybe do a couple sun salutations)...

Awright...now, everybody should know that the summer solstice is not, in fact, till Monday...

Yet, with fireflies abundant as beads of sweat on my forehead...(not to mention, hell, if I can’t go to the store in October without hearing Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, three or four days early ain't much)...and in the fervent hope that, like Bob’s Gita Talk, this blog may inspire fruitful and enlightening discussion, I’ve delved into the vast wealth of oral and written traditions, pictographs, and ancient monoliths from around the world to find some ancient, revered, and highly meaningful lines to share on this almost-but-not-quite-summer-solstice...

Callin’ out around the world,
are you ready for a brand new beat?
Summer’s here and the time is right
for dancin’ in the street...
Martha and the Vandellas*

Some thought-provoking questions to get us started:

1) Does the reference to a brand new beat imply a refutation of traditional, cyclical conceptions of seasonal change in favor of a more urban paradigm, as suggested by the evocation of the street as a site for dancing?

2) Should summer’s here and the time is right be understood to assert a prohibitive view toward dancing at other times of the year? Or, are we to understand that it is only during the summer months that the streets are acceptable for dancing, while dancing inside or on the grass are permitted at other times? Might the implication be that streets are the only locations where dancing is condoned during the summer months, indicating a prohibitive view toward dancing anywhere else during this period of the year?

3) Does this emphasis on streets reflect a tension with the then thriving beach party culture (see Funicello, Annette)? If so, can streets be interpreted in a more contemporary context as representing any outdoor area (including, conceivably, the beach)?

4) If we take callin' out around the world literally, should people in the southern hemisphere also dance in the street, even though it's the beginning of winter there, and they might catch a chill?

5) In the lines that follow, particular locations are named:

Dancin’ in Chicago, down in New Orleans,
New York City, All we need is music...

Do these locations embody particular spiritual significance—like Jerusalem, Mysore, Mecca, or the vortexes in Sedona? Should we take this as a call to make pilgrimages to these locations at the solstice?

6) How are we to take the cryptic statement all we need is music? Is the implication that music can sustain life in the absence of other nourishment?

7) Or does it imply that the street dancing here called for is in fact a fertility ceremony, and that, if it is performed properly, at the summer solstice, crops will be abundant and the people’s needs met?

8) Might dancing be taken metonymically to represent merriment in general?

9) Or is it all, really, about sex?

10) William James wrote

Common sense and a sense of humor are the same thing, moving at different speeds. A sense of humor is just common sense, dancing.

What happens when common sense dances in the street?


Please try to keep the discussion civil.



* ...while originally passed down to us by the esteemed Martha Reeves, these lines are believed to have originated with William “Mickey” Stevenson, Ivy Jo Hunter, and Marvin Gaye...though known to many primarily through translations, interpretations, and commentaries by the likes of David Bowie, the Grateful Dead, the Carpenters, and Van Halen...(as well as more gnostic readings by Bruce Springsteen and the Rolling Stones in which racing and fighting, respectively, are substituted for dancing)...




*Those readers whose brains aren't completely overloaded by this highly sophisticated discussion might want to check out my latest at Elephant: Compassion is Complicated, or Idiot Compassion or Generosity*

Sunday Morning

Sunday morning, and I’m falling...
The Velvet Underground

...slept something like twelve or thirteen hours...making up for nights of staying up ’til eight in the morning writing blog posts while looking after people in rehab...woke up Sunday morning to find the cupboard was bare...so made a pot o’ coffee...(yes, you hardcore ayurvedic people out there, I know...)...and called some friends in South Philly to see if they were up for brunch...biked ten miles to their house and that hipster Mexican place on Passyunk for tortillas and salsa, along with a couple pitchers of blackberry margaritas...(I’m guessing the serious ayurvedic types have quit reading by this point)...starting out at a sidewalk table before having to move inside because of a sudden downpour...which, surprisingly enough, left things considerably hotter and more humid for the ride home...though, as it turns out, a picnic table by the river can be a perfect place for an impromptu savasana on a sweltering early summer afternoon...

Language has created the word "loneliness" to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word "solitude" to express the glory of being alone.

Paul Tillich

...had a dream somewhere in there in which someone was trying to convince me it was time to get some more therapy...and, in the dream, at least, I agreed...

*thanks to Brandon for the coffee art*

Confessions of St. Bicycle

The bicycle is the most civilized conveyance known to man. Other forms of transport grow daily more nightmarish. Only the bicycle remains pure in heart.

Iris Murdoch

Do it for the joy it brings...
Ani DiFranco

...lately the bike’s looking better and better as a primary mode of transportation...since, y’know, though boycotting, fining, and filing charges against British Petroleum are all well and good, it’s not like you’re gonna fill up your tank at the local sustainable free-trade organic gasoline co-op, instead...

...though, as a typical middle class resident of the Western world...green-conscious and countercultural or otherwise...and thereby responsible for a carbon footprint bigger than most third world villages...(even right now, typing this blog post onto my bright computer screen in a well lit room, Los Lobos blaring from i-pod speakers)...can’t say I feel all that comfortable posing on the eco-friendly high horse...or high bicycle...

...of course, there’s exercise...maintaining bodily health, keeping legs toned and muscular, belly somewhat under control...(some might say it'd be less an issue without the post-ride Ben & Jerry’s...but calories don’t count if you bike to the store)...

...then, if not for the yoga thing, my knees would likely have been blown out by now...and that’s not even mentioning detrimental effects of crouching over handlebars, gripping tightly (following, apparently, some atavistic instinct to bare teeth and brace for a fight in the final grueling miles of a ride)....(all in all, really, yoga’s highly complementary to biking, but the other way around, not so much)...(except that it’s exactly those deleterious aspects that helped lead me to yoga in the first place)...

...and, as written about here not long ago, biking, like walking, allows me to think more clearly, aiding in problem solving, helping to keep anxiety and depression at bay...spurring creativity, which, if I really feel like pushing the idea, leads to productivity, and thus, perhaps, to making some kind of contribution to culture and society at large...or something...

...and so, anyway, all kindsa people say good for you when they hear I get around mostly by bike...admiring my selfless forsaking of the gas guzzling comfort, speed, and convenience of internal combustion engines to propel myself where I need to go through grueling hard labor...concern for healthy body, mind, and ecology, apparently, trumping all else...

...and yet, I think, while whooshing along the Schuylkill river path on a bright morning, the lush green of Pennsylvania’s late spring reflected on the water, turtles sunning themselves on rocks, wind tickling whatever hair creeps out from under my helmet...whipping around curves, carefully dodging other bikes, pedestrians, and little families of geese...muscling up hills and floating back down, letting wind and gravity do the rest...faster than walking, but slow enough to absorb surroundings....would it be too hedonistic, amoral, and contrary to any decent work ethic to admit my primary motivation is still what it was when I was a kid cruising the neighborhood on my first three-speed...the sheer pleasure in it?...

*my latest at Elephant Journal, Tough Love*

Do You Have to Do Something Wrong To Be Forgiven?

...famous yoga blogger Brooks Hall wrote this lovely poem about forgiving the world, and I left a typically silly comment...

and the world forgives you, too...or, at least I do...or I would, if I was mad at you or you'd done anything I'd need to forgive you for...does a person have to do something wrong to be forgiven?

...then I thought hmmm...that might not be such a silly question...though it certainly wouldn’t be the first time acting silly led me to insight...

...I mean...forgiveness has been called divine...an incredible loving gift we give to one another... grace, itself...the very essence of love...representing the highest kind of interconnectedness between human beings...oneness...even, dare I say it, God...

...in that one long ago instant at least out of the long and shabby stretch of their human lives, even though they knew at the time it wouldn’t and couldn’t last, they had touched and become as God when they voluntarily and in advance forgave one another for all that each knew the other could never be.
William Faulkner

...so...do I really need to piss somebody off to get me some?...

...of course, the question may be, ultimately, kind of academic, since, let’s face it, anybody who knows me well enough to love me has had to forgive me for all kindsa crap...

...and I’m grateful for that...

...so...for what it's worth...this blog sends out forgiveness to you who are reading it...regardless of whether you've done anything wrong...





*I also hereby forgive anybody who missed the irony in my latest Elephant article*