The definition of a cliche is "a trite, stereotyped expression; a sentence or phrase, usually expressing a popular or common thought or idea, that has lost originality, ingenuity, and impact by long overuse."
Rather than face fear or use the confidence that I know is inside this body and mind I rely on cliche to get me through my days and nights. I self-depricate to get to the puch line about me before others do. I'm corny, but tough and good-natured. I rock the grung look ten years after it was in. I use it to my advantage, seemingly not to care what people think about the ripped jeans and over-used collared golf shirts. I try to emit the persona that this look works for me, when in reality I'm not trying to rock a look or be retro. There the only clothes I have. All other things being equal, clothes shopping for myself has not been a priority in my life, eventhough I know most people who see me are judging me on how I look. It's a constant source of obvious ignoration in my life that I always fantasize about changing, but never do.
I encounter many different people every day between work, the commute and home. I judge all of them. Anyone who says they don't judge other people is a liar. I don't want to judge, I just do. "People in glass houses shouldn't throw rocks", right? I've never seen a glass house and if I did it might just be too tempting not to hurl a stone or two.
Neitchze talked about life as an illusion, or at least most of what we are faced with in life is an illusion. Religion, media, government, all illusion. These words I type need to be stripped naked and taken for what they are worth; nothing. My words are an illusion the moment they are transfered from my thoughts to this page. This piece of internet, a virtual reality. "Virtual" meaning not real.
A cliche. A cliche is nothing more than the easy way out. Cliches are part of the illusion of life. I do know that there are moments in life that are real. As real as slicing your finger to the bone with a box cutter when all you wanted was a screwdriver. As real as the ripples on a lake. As real as a child's concern when they learn what it means to die. The real moments aren't told to us by some supposed authority, we experience them. My only authority is my skin, my tongue, my ears, and my eyes. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." I guess sometimes it does work.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Sunday, September 5, 2010
They call the Rising Sun.....
As a teacher I get to renew and reflect during the summer. This past week I went back to work. We didn't have students yet and the roads were relatively uncrowded so I decided to drive for most of the week instead of take the train. My path to work leads me away from the sunrise.
I would pick up my bagel and cup of coffee and head out. The radio was telling me about the Mets, the Yankees, the four alarm fire in a project in the Bronx, and the half hour wait on the Van Wyck. Staying in the lane is difficult when the caffiene hasn't kicked in yet and cars are flying past you so their riders can get to their job that they hate faster. I have precious little time to site see.
I glance in the rear view mirror as habbit, rather than courtesy. I see a glowing orange orb still married to the horizon wink at me. If I were to read all texts dedicated to the sun it would probably take me twenty lifetimes and then some. The sun gives life and takes it away on a daily basis. We are all connected to it, drawn to it, worship it in our owm way.
The sun reminds me of the begining and that nothing is permanent. We all look to prove our own strength, our own worth as compared to others around us. The insignificance of this is proven with one small glance at the sun.
It's mythical, constant, and unrelenting--like life. It brightens our spirits and burns our ground. Without it we die.
That one glance for me has stuck in my visual memory for some time now. I don't know why. All I could think about was the beauty of that moment, that glance. It makes me think of the beauty of my children, my wife, great works of art, verses from a certain song, or line from a poem. With all the harshness that infects this world there is beauty that balances it. I just wish I took advantage of that equilibrium more often.
I would pick up my bagel and cup of coffee and head out. The radio was telling me about the Mets, the Yankees, the four alarm fire in a project in the Bronx, and the half hour wait on the Van Wyck. Staying in the lane is difficult when the caffiene hasn't kicked in yet and cars are flying past you so their riders can get to their job that they hate faster. I have precious little time to site see.
I glance in the rear view mirror as habbit, rather than courtesy. I see a glowing orange orb still married to the horizon wink at me. If I were to read all texts dedicated to the sun it would probably take me twenty lifetimes and then some. The sun gives life and takes it away on a daily basis. We are all connected to it, drawn to it, worship it in our owm way.
The sun reminds me of the begining and that nothing is permanent. We all look to prove our own strength, our own worth as compared to others around us. The insignificance of this is proven with one small glance at the sun.
It's mythical, constant, and unrelenting--like life. It brightens our spirits and burns our ground. Without it we die.
That one glance for me has stuck in my visual memory for some time now. I don't know why. All I could think about was the beauty of that moment, that glance. It makes me think of the beauty of my children, my wife, great works of art, verses from a certain song, or line from a poem. With all the harshness that infects this world there is beauty that balances it. I just wish I took advantage of that equilibrium more often.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Riding the Dragon
It took me reading Siddhartha three times and ten years to understand what Hesse meant by the concept of "there is no self." Because we experience we change, because we change we as people are not set in stone; there is no one definition of who we are as people . However, what I've learned about Buddhism is that it is like an onion, every concept has many layers. Reading the Dali Lama, he takes it a step further, or rather clarifies it by saying, yes there is a self, a foundation of who we are at the core, just like the core of the earth. But like the earth, the outer layer is constantly changing, moving, evolving in ways that are beyond our understanding.
Of course to come to this understanding Siddhartha had to go through a metamorphasis himself where he discovered suffering, basically the first step on the path to Nirvana; probably the most important one. I've been trying to think about my own suffering lately. It sounds easy, identifying your own suffering. Tonight I meditated on identifying my own suffering. I thought it would be easy and I could say to myself I suffer from A,B, and C, but again, the onion. I feel as though I only scratched the surface of my own suffering, not disappionting, but revealing and invigorating. When doing deep reflection the mind is unpredictable and takes you places you wouldn't expect to go.
The Dali Lama, in the Heart Sutra, talks about our suffering as empty, that we are all empty. Again the onion. We're not empty literally, or even in most of the figurative universe, but our suffering is empty (in my own interpretation). Our suffering holds this power over us that makes us angry, frustrated, depressed, and anxious. But, in most cases the suffering exists only in our mind and is a remnant of something that has happened in the past that still confuses and haunts us. How do you tell your suffering to leave? How do you free your mind from the suffering and start on the path to happiness?
Meditating, being on the path to end suffering and begin happiness is called Riding the Dragon. Its a curious phrase considering that Dragons evoke feelings of fear and death. But then I guess that alot of suffering comes from common fear and unlimately death. Confronting those fears and being able to control them is the key to conquering them, i.e. Riding the Dragon. Maybe thats where the phrase "Its not about the destination, but the journey" comes from. Enjoy the ride.
Of course to come to this understanding Siddhartha had to go through a metamorphasis himself where he discovered suffering, basically the first step on the path to Nirvana; probably the most important one. I've been trying to think about my own suffering lately. It sounds easy, identifying your own suffering. Tonight I meditated on identifying my own suffering. I thought it would be easy and I could say to myself I suffer from A,B, and C, but again, the onion. I feel as though I only scratched the surface of my own suffering, not disappionting, but revealing and invigorating. When doing deep reflection the mind is unpredictable and takes you places you wouldn't expect to go.
The Dali Lama, in the Heart Sutra, talks about our suffering as empty, that we are all empty. Again the onion. We're not empty literally, or even in most of the figurative universe, but our suffering is empty (in my own interpretation). Our suffering holds this power over us that makes us angry, frustrated, depressed, and anxious. But, in most cases the suffering exists only in our mind and is a remnant of something that has happened in the past that still confuses and haunts us. How do you tell your suffering to leave? How do you free your mind from the suffering and start on the path to happiness?
Meditating, being on the path to end suffering and begin happiness is called Riding the Dragon. Its a curious phrase considering that Dragons evoke feelings of fear and death. But then I guess that alot of suffering comes from common fear and unlimately death. Confronting those fears and being able to control them is the key to conquering them, i.e. Riding the Dragon. Maybe thats where the phrase "Its not about the destination, but the journey" comes from. Enjoy the ride.
Friday, July 16, 2010
House Cleaning
The mental list in my head has nothing to do with spiritual well-being or mental wellness. It has to do with laundry, healing my foot, making lunch, and packing little school-bags. When my tasks are complete there's a mild satisfaction that I don't have to repeat the process for another 24 hours. My shallowness can rest easy.
But something lurks in the deep, dark, trenches of my mind. Sadness, depression, maybe something smaller than my mind's eye makes it out to be. I take my small issues and pump them full of hot air and bullshit that create's a Hindenburg scenario, destined to crash and burn. Why does my mind do this? Why do I wallow? Why do I let small things affect my happiness?
If I were able to step outside my body and magnify my life and get an outside perspective, what would I see? I might see on the surface a fairly good looking chap, with a decent sense and humor and a sprinkling, only a sprinkling, of confidence. If I watched myself a little longer I might see a very compassionate, caring, understanding and calm person with tendencies to be whiny, needy, and lack some self-confidence from time to time.
I can deal with all of that. I just have to stop the melodrama that put me in compromising moods. I guess its just a matter of being in a correct mental state to not react to people defensively or aggressively.
But something lurks in the deep, dark, trenches of my mind. Sadness, depression, maybe something smaller than my mind's eye makes it out to be. I take my small issues and pump them full of hot air and bullshit that create's a Hindenburg scenario, destined to crash and burn. Why does my mind do this? Why do I wallow? Why do I let small things affect my happiness?
If I were able to step outside my body and magnify my life and get an outside perspective, what would I see? I might see on the surface a fairly good looking chap, with a decent sense and humor and a sprinkling, only a sprinkling, of confidence. If I watched myself a little longer I might see a very compassionate, caring, understanding and calm person with tendencies to be whiny, needy, and lack some self-confidence from time to time.
I can deal with all of that. I just have to stop the melodrama that put me in compromising moods. I guess its just a matter of being in a correct mental state to not react to people defensively or aggressively.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
The Trip
On my way to work the other day, as the sun was rising, I saw a twelve year old girl trip on a piece of concrete. Her momentum gave her precious little time to brace for the impact. Her knees and hands hit first, followed quickly by her forehead. It took her a few seconds to register what had happened. She rose to her knees, then stood assessing the damage. From my vantage point I could see the early morning sun reflecting off her wounds.
The first of her expressions to follow was that of shock and regret. The regret of not slowing down, or not leaving a little earlier, or not living in a place filled with concrete. The pain registered and was soon followed by a slow stream of silent tears, for there was no one to listen.
Blink and another painful memory in her life and an even quicker departure from my conscience fades into time. Mine just a reminder of the human experience, hers a notch on the post of a tortured existence that seems to have forgotten twelve year old girls in this neighborhood. Fairness is a word used by politicians and preachers, but not by too old boyfriends and step-parents. Life is about reality and not about mystical fantasies of "what ifs?"
A taste of concrete may be sweeter that the alternative. Never underestimate persepctive.
The first of her expressions to follow was that of shock and regret. The regret of not slowing down, or not leaving a little earlier, or not living in a place filled with concrete. The pain registered and was soon followed by a slow stream of silent tears, for there was no one to listen.
Blink and another painful memory in her life and an even quicker departure from my conscience fades into time. Mine just a reminder of the human experience, hers a notch on the post of a tortured existence that seems to have forgotten twelve year old girls in this neighborhood. Fairness is a word used by politicians and preachers, but not by too old boyfriends and step-parents. Life is about reality and not about mystical fantasies of "what ifs?"
A taste of concrete may be sweeter that the alternative. Never underestimate persepctive.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Fluid
Life is fluid, a babbling brook that stops for nothing, neither great, nor small. This reality comforts me and scares me at the same time. I know that dangerous times will pass, but so will the great ones.
As the river turns and witnesses a new scene so I have changed and grown within that same curve. The serious has been forged dull in the experience of life and it is now easier to enjoy a child's smile and easier to comfort a scraped knee's tears.
I have wondered and assumed to the point of believing a paranoid reality, when the truth speaks in the witness of my senses, in the blink of a down-turned eye or a mellowed tone in a conversation.
I've lived the life of the "What if" and the "Maybe when", and have accomplished neither.
A friend from law school once told me a story of his trip to Vietnam. He explained to me the most spiritual experience of his journey. He told me that one day, he took a break from partying, smoked a joint and rented an inner-tube and just floated down a river lined with jungle trees and jungle sounds. He explained that it was the calmest experience of his life. His eyes revealed the truth in his words. There was no exaggeration or need to boast, there was just the reminiscence of tranquility, of maybe a once in a lifetime inner peacefulness. I'm not saying that I've achieved this, but I feel as though I've caught a glimmer of it.
As the river turns and witnesses a new scene so I have changed and grown within that same curve. The serious has been forged dull in the experience of life and it is now easier to enjoy a child's smile and easier to comfort a scraped knee's tears.
I have wondered and assumed to the point of believing a paranoid reality, when the truth speaks in the witness of my senses, in the blink of a down-turned eye or a mellowed tone in a conversation.
I've lived the life of the "What if" and the "Maybe when", and have accomplished neither.
A friend from law school once told me a story of his trip to Vietnam. He explained to me the most spiritual experience of his journey. He told me that one day, he took a break from partying, smoked a joint and rented an inner-tube and just floated down a river lined with jungle trees and jungle sounds. He explained that it was the calmest experience of his life. His eyes revealed the truth in his words. There was no exaggeration or need to boast, there was just the reminiscence of tranquility, of maybe a once in a lifetime inner peacefulness. I'm not saying that I've achieved this, but I feel as though I've caught a glimmer of it.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Catering to my fans
I've blogged about deep philosophocal issues, sadness and depression, inner turmoil and other various heart-string pulling topics. However, I've only received comments from Viagra, an investment banker who wants me to buy his product, and some Korean chap who I, unfortunately, cannot understand.
So what to say to my frequent flyers, hmmmm.
First to my Viagra friend. You are so consistent with your once a day comments I'm so hard up to view your daily quips. Sometimes your comments leave me in a state of excitement that lasts for more than four hours and I have to call my Doctor to get advice on how to calm down. I have to be careful though, every once in a while I get nauseous, blurred vision, and have fear of getting a stroke when I view your bits of wisdom. Anyways my dear friend, keep it cuming.
Next to my investment banker friend. I'm a teacher who just bought a house and have two little kids. If you're willing to take 2 pennies and a stick of gum as a down payment for an investment in your junk bonds, I'm in. I'm sure you're a brilliant money man, why would anyone think not when you're advertising on my most famous literary site. I'm sorry I haven't visited your url yet. I've come close so many times, but my lack of confidence prevents me from being in your cyber presence, please forgive my meakness.
Lastly, I'll miss you most of all Scarecrow, I mean my Korean chum. You are such a fucking mystery my life is sent into a tailspin when I try to understand your supposed brilliance comments. I just don't know where to start. Are you South Korean or North Korean? If you are North Korean, are you a hardliner inviting me to be a comrade in the Korean Workers Party? Or are you a political refugee requesting my covert assistance? So many questions, and no answers. Perhaps you're just trying to sell me some high end ginseng to go along with my Viagra and new high society investment banking persona.
The outpouring of love is just too overwhelming I think I might cry. I'm done, the computer is now sizzling and the buttons are now slippery, but I don't want to hide my true emotions anymore. This is a new me, a better me. I now lead a richer, fuller life, a life of purpose, now that I have you three in my life. Pleace keep it coming and don't be frightened of my new found love for you all. Have a wonderful evening. Peace.
So what to say to my frequent flyers, hmmmm.
First to my Viagra friend. You are so consistent with your once a day comments I'm so hard up to view your daily quips. Sometimes your comments leave me in a state of excitement that lasts for more than four hours and I have to call my Doctor to get advice on how to calm down. I have to be careful though, every once in a while I get nauseous, blurred vision, and have fear of getting a stroke when I view your bits of wisdom. Anyways my dear friend, keep it cuming.
Next to my investment banker friend. I'm a teacher who just bought a house and have two little kids. If you're willing to take 2 pennies and a stick of gum as a down payment for an investment in your junk bonds, I'm in. I'm sure you're a brilliant money man, why would anyone think not when you're advertising on my most famous literary site. I'm sorry I haven't visited your url yet. I've come close so many times, but my lack of confidence prevents me from being in your cyber presence, please forgive my meakness.
Lastly, I'll miss you most of all Scarecrow, I mean my Korean chum. You are such a fucking mystery my life is sent into a tailspin when I try to understand your supposed brilliance comments. I just don't know where to start. Are you South Korean or North Korean? If you are North Korean, are you a hardliner inviting me to be a comrade in the Korean Workers Party? Or are you a political refugee requesting my covert assistance? So many questions, and no answers. Perhaps you're just trying to sell me some high end ginseng to go along with my Viagra and new high society investment banking persona.
The outpouring of love is just too overwhelming I think I might cry. I'm done, the computer is now sizzling and the buttons are now slippery, but I don't want to hide my true emotions anymore. This is a new me, a better me. I now lead a richer, fuller life, a life of purpose, now that I have you three in my life. Pleace keep it coming and don't be frightened of my new found love for you all. Have a wonderful evening. Peace.
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