coincidences: or, what Alan Watts, Neil Gaiman, and “Alice in Wonderland” teach us…

As dawn rises over this new day, I am filled with wonder and love for the bedrock of books. Books wise and curious, which draw me in every morning and sometimes allow for a marvelous coincidence to take place, a flame to flicker, as if the authors were hovering nearby, with smiles growing wide, because someone finally got it!
This morning, the light of wisdom was sparked by an accidental discovery in Alan Watts (The Way of Zen) that led me back to a book I just finished rereading yesterday: the obscure, frightening, and yet comforting story called The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman. (Hmmm. I suspect Gaiman’s story contains more wisdom than appears at first glance. To do: read it again some day!)

The passage from Alan Watts comes from his explanation of the intermediate stage in a student’s life as he (or she) pursues Zen Buddhist training:
“The continued practice of za-zen now provides the student with a clear, unobstructed mind into which he can toss the koan like a pebble into a pool and simply watch to see what his mind does with it. As he concludes each koan, the roshi [master / teacher] usually requires that he present a verse from the Zenrin Kushu which expresses the point of the koan just solved. Other books are also used, and the late Sokei-an Sasaki, working in the United States, found that an admirable manual for this purpose was Alice in Wonderland.” (The Way of Zen, p. 167).

The passage from Neil Gaiman comes from the climactic scene where the seven-year-old hero is standing in a field as night falls, careful to remain inside a circle in the grass, as voices and shadowy figures taunt him. His friend, Lettie Hempstock, led him into that circle and instructed him to remain there no matter what happens. So he does. But it is so hard.
Here are some key moments from the passage, and the coincidences I heard along the way. Do you hear them too?

I sat down with my back to the dead tree in the center of the fairy ring, and I closed my eyes, and I did not move. I remembered poems to distract myself, recited them silently under my breath, mouthing the words but making no sound.
Fury said to a mouse that he met in the house let us both go to law I will prosecute you… I could say all the poem in one long breath, and I did, all the way to the inevitable end.
I’ll be the judge I’ll be the jury said cunning old Fury I’ll try the whole cause and condemn you to death.*
[…]
“You are hungry,” said the voice in the night, and it was no longer Lettie’s voice, not any longer. It might have been the voice inside my own head, but it was speaking aloud. “You are tired. Your family hates you. You have no friends. And Lettie Hempstock, I regret to tell you, is never coming back.”
I wished I could have seen who was talking. If you have something specific and visible to fear, rather than something that could be anything, it is easier.
“Nobody cares,” said the voice, so resigned, so practical. “Now, step out of the circle and come to us. One step is all it will take. Just put one foot across the threshold and we will make all the pain go away forever: the pain you feel now and the pain that is still to come. It will never happen.”
It was not one voice, not any longer. It was two people talking in unison Or a hundred people. I could not tell. So many voices.
“How can you be happy in this world? You have a hole in your heart. You have a gateway inside you to lands beyond the world you know. They will call you, as you grow. … You can come out, and we will end it, cleanly, or you can die in there, of hunger and fear. And when you are dead your circle will mean nothing, and we will tear out your heart and take your soul for a keepsake.”
“P’raps it will be like that,” I said, to the darkness and the shadows, “and p’raps it won’t. And p’raps if it is, it would have been like that anyway. I don’t care. I’m still going to wait here for Lettie Hempstock, and she’s going to come back to me.”
There was silence. … I thought over what I’d said, and I knew that it was true. At that moment, for once in my childhood, I was not scared of the dark, and I was perfectly willing to die (as willing as any seven-year-old, certain of his immortality, can be) if I died waiting for Lettie. Because she was my friend.
Time passed. … The moon rose higher. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness. I sang, under my breath, mouthing the words over and over.
[“The Mouse’s Tale” from Alice in Wonderland morphs into a snippet of a song by Gilbert and Sullivan, from Iolanthe]:

You’re a regular wreck with a crick in your neck
And no wonder you snore for your head’s on the floor
And you’ve needles and pins from your sole to your shins
And your flesh is a-creep for your left leg’s asleep
And you’ve cramp in your toes and a fly on your nose
You’ve got fluff in your lung and a feverish tongue
And a thirst that’s intense and a general sense that you haven’t been sleeping in clover…

I sang it to myself, the whole song, all the way through, two or three times, and I was relieved that I remembered the words, even if I did not always understand them.

***
(from Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane [New York: HarperCollins, 2013], pp. 132-133, 138-140.

* “The Mouse’s Tale” in Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland—chapter 3, “A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale”.

***

The lesson: “I was relieved that I remembered the words, even if I did not always understand them.”

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if you want to live a life you’ve never lived…

“if you want to live a life you’ve never lived, you have to do things you’ve never done,” say the wise in every tradition. Whether it’s applied to education, or business, or moving to a new place, change is all around us.

Change is us.

The sooner we realize that, the sooner we will get out and do stuff. And dare to laugh and allow our imperfections and just-beginning steps to be seen, because life is not so serious after all!

I am happy to say that I did something new today: I attended a free workshop on marketing, sponsored by the Seattle Small Business Development Center. The drive was very cool: first, instead of going up and over the West Seattle bridge to I-5, you go under the West Seattle Bridge and bump over a bunch of railroad tracks, vying for position with massive trucks hauling containers newly unloaded from the ships that arrive in Pier 5, of the Port of Seattle. The landscape reminds me of an Ayn Rand novel, such as the opening scene in Atlas Shrugged, which rolls into Philadelphia on a freight train. With the old steel mill on one side, and the huge salt-water port on the other, it’s a bustling, massive hive of people at work, operating machinery, building, and shipping.

“The thing that came next did not look like a building, but like a shell of checkered glass enclosing girders, cranes and trusses in a solid, blinding, orange spread of flame.

The passengers could not grasp the complexity of what seemed to be a city stretched for miles, active without sign of human presence. They saw towers like contorted skyscrapers, bridges hanging in mid-air, and sudden wounds spurting fire from out of solid walls. They saw a line of glowing cylinders moving through the night; the cylinders were red-hot metal.” (Atlas Shrugged, 27)

I find this part of town fascinating. To the east and south of here, is the place where railroads and airports converge to move goods from the West Coast to “east of the mountains,” which around here could mean Moses Lake or NYC! Costco and Starbucks have headquarters just to the north. People might find its grey cement pillars and its towering metal containers to be dreary and drab, or the atmosphere intimidating, but I find the whole scene very exciting. There’s so much action!

Anyway, you go through all that industrial area along the Duwamish River to the south, and eventually (if you stay to the left instead of following 1st Ave S. to the right, like I did on my first try) you end up on Route 509 going to Tukwila.  It is a pleasant corporate campus, the Seattle Small Business Development Center. Even though I got a little off track, I still arrived on time and my heart did not start beating too hard, nor did I swear, hate myself, or start sweating.

I only got the slightest bit alarmed. Breathe in, breathe out. (The same thing I’ve done in other stressful situations lately, such as going to funeral mass for my mother-in-law, watching someone get mad, and waiting for the plane in a crowded airport).

Anyway, once I got there I feared the worst, especially when I saw that we’d all been given little booklets courtesy of Facebook. (I am not on Facebook. It seems to bother everybody, for which I always seem to feel the need to apologize. Sorry!)

The happy news to report, however, is that the free workshop on marketing was excellent and I learned a lot. The teacher was engaging and fun, hats off to Jenefeness Tucker, MBA! The people were interesting to meet, bright, enthusiastic, and engaged: we all wanted to be there and we all had something we were trying to figure out. We shared thoughts from our lives, which vary widely. Among the group was a designer of  hijabs, kimonos and other modest fashions; a creator of wedding floral arrangements; two real estate agents; two people who work with realtors by staging homes for sale; an artist who has an original board game; and a business consultant. I was there representing Honey Girl Books and Gifts, as creator of “heirlooms that soothe the spirit”: children’s books, pillows, and quilts.

Which I now realize targets a clientele of educated people, likely women, parents or relatives of children age 8 to 25. She is a little worried about being saturated by cellphones (and likes the cellphone pockets in the pillow backs). She appreciates authentic craftsmanship. She wants to live in a stylish, hand-designed home and create her own family history and traditions. This I offer through quirky quilts and pillows that tell stories or pass along literary and philosophical allusions in color, prints, and varied textures.

The children’s books appeal to people who want their children to discover little-known discoveries from award-winning scholars, illustrated with original artwork. Just good parents, basically, but open to non-Hollywood stories that are produced by real people, not ghost writers and starlets. We are scholar-writers working with young artist-illustrators. (Although if somebody in Hollywood wanted to option The Frankenstein of the Apple Crate, I think illustrator Karen Neis and I’d be open to that!)

Thinking over this workshop and the other things I’ve done since arriving here July 2, I realize that the anxiety dogging my steps over the past couple months is quite reasonable. I’m doing things I’ve never done before, with different kinds of people in new places, trying to create a new business from scratch. At the same time as I’m embracing capitalism and selling stuff, attending events sponsored by the chamber of commerce, for example, and becoming curious about salesmanship, my spiritual and philosophical studies have been focused on Zen, the art of abandoning material achievement: the letting-go of ego and attachment that go with T’ai chi. These lessons are constant and make my mind feel at home, thanks to the time I spend daily on meditation, weekly Qigong class, and the arduous, three-times weekly, 90-minute classes of T’ai chi at the Seattle Kung Fu Club.

No wonder I stress out sometimes. These activities are attached to philosophies that actively oppose each other (competition versus acceptance and action versus stillness). It’s confusing! But doing Tai chi in Chinatown, sewing new things in my studio, and creating a storybook with the kids at the library: those things are simple and clear, just joy.

I remain convinced that one can start and run a small business successfully without joining Facebook, exploiting people, or thinking about money all the time. I am convinced that you can make artworks that speak to people and spread good feelings and curiosity through color, cloth and paper.

It’s a ton of work but it is way more fun than academia because of the speed, and because of the freedom to express your imagination as you wish. In academia, you sit around and talk and have ideas and meet with other people and write reports and then, gradually ever so slowly after months and oftentimes years of deliberation, a change is made. In business, you can have an idea, go get the materials to make it, create it, market it, and sell it in one week or less! And your audience is virtually infinite, you just have to figure out who they are and connect.

So that’s making my life fun. I hope you are taking steps to embrace change and make your life fun too!

And let go of ego at the same time, realizing that it is all fiction.

Just breathe.

Are you confused yet?

Good! Then we’re all beginning together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Kat Jayne on Pexels.com

Photo by Lum3n.com on Pexels.com

 

simple tools for the art of living

People spend money on devices to make them feel better. Yet it is not necessary to strap a plastic band to your arm or scroll across a metallic screen, to feel good on a daily basis.

If you, like me, seek to simplify your life, may I recommend some excellent basic tools.

After that long trip to France and New York, today was the first day I feel strong and centered again. Just as the trip was not a haphazard event, but took much planning, the equilibrium achieved today represents one part of a long-term, creative way of life.

La chance, ça se prépare.  {good luck comes from good planning}

The image above shows the simple tools I used today. They include:

1. Peter Ralston, The Principles of Effortless Power
2. Mai-Mai Sze, The Tao of Painting
3. The little notebooks where I record my daily routine. (The routine is described here). It includes meditation, warm-up exercise and the 45 min. T’ai chi sequence. NB: As you can see, the little notebook records a person’s handwriting, and allows for short thoughts to be recorded and pictures or doodles to accompany the fitness record.
4. The basic laptop computer where I watch the video of Master Peng and practice T’ai chi Yang style 108. (It was recorded last year in a gym near my home.)

C’est tout!   {that’s all!}

Here are the quotes that guided my spirit this morning, I read them with my morning coffee.

from Ralston, “Fill out and be complete, yet be empty with nothing to protect.  … Integrity, like relaxing, grounding, being calm, and centering, must permeate all aspects of our activity.” (Principles, 17)

from Sze, “In the handling of vast space, their [Southern Sung]  ink paintings are some of the greatest expressions of the human spirit. … they merged the details in mists, obliterated them in space, and emphasized by depth of distances the silent majesty of nature and the mystery of the Tao. … The great oceans on these maps were space, the perfect symbol of which is merely the black silk or paper, and in many instances was so represented in paintings. By the directness and purity of this device, the awareness of space was made more acute and its effects more profound. … it should be added, however, that the effectiveness of blank spaces was achieved only through contrast with the vitality of the brushstroke that rendered the forms it surrounded.”  (Tao of Painting, plate I, Landscape by Yen Tzu-yu, XII-XIII centuries, Sung Period), below.

The “reverential” attitude toward the vastness of the cosmos in this artwork is refreshing in the early morning. As my mind took its time emerging from sleepiness with lovely strong coffee, it was pleasant to contemplate the unknowingness that exists above the blue sky. It was good to put my feet flat on the floor and think about gravity and living on earth. With so much ugliness from humans contaminating our senses and our media-saturated public spaces, it is refreshing to see people in this painting represented as tiny things in contrast with the soaring space of the evanescent clouds.

Later on, I found this good quote in The Creative Habit, by Twyla Tharp:  “A lot of habitually creative people have preparation rituals linked to the setting in which they choose to start their day. By putting themselves into that environment, they begin their creative day.  … What makes it a ritual is that they do it without questioning the need.” (Creative, 16).

I don’t know about you, but with a rigorous, uplifting morning routine, artwork like Yen Tzu-ya to contemplate, and good thoughts from great thinkers in mind, I can sail through any day.

I felt calmly content as I did every single thing I did today–not only a good conversation with a young friend, but also the more banal things like the long cold walks from a parking lot to a meeting, a visit with an uninteresting salesman, and the time I spent out at Dale’s Auto, waiting for a ride after a mixed-up communication. (Rich is watching some loud obnoxious sport channel right now–a good test of my mettle! But even those loud, aggressive men on TV cannot bother me.)

It is all good simply because it is, and was, my life.

And soon, it will be “fun time” again with Honey Girl.  I wonder where she’ll take me this evening?

 

a sign for the times

On our way back from the forest, in the cold windy night tonight, Honey Girl and I walked right under a sign that holds wisdom for the holiday season, I think.

It says, “Yield ahead.”

What a good idea. Why disagree? It’s all temporary anyway.

Next time you feel like saying, “If  ___________________ (person you dislike) says (or posts/tweets) that stupid joke again about my ___________________________ (marital status / weight / graduation date / job / joblessness / choice of pet / bra size, Viagra, etc.), I’m going to scream!” stop yourself. Give yourself a little smile, knowing that you are above such things. Your mind is aware. You are calm, and easily keep your distance from trivia.

Remember that in the big scheme of things, mean words and rude behavior are nothing more than negative energy. They burp briefly into existence and contaminate the atmosphere if allowed to multiply, but they fade quickly if no one pays attention to them.

Leave behind the culture of complaint. Yield and forgive, now and then. You might find that you like it. The world would be a more peaceful place if we could all remember to yield, now and then.

 

A confession, an inspiration, and a way to feel better

1. A confession: I ate one-fourth of this pecan pie yesterday, all by myself! And that was after eating a very large and wonderful dinner!  Pecan pie, made from the family’s secret recipe, is one of my all-time favorite foods. So I enjoyed it and had three lovely big pieces.  And do you know what?  It was good, very very good. 

Since I went right back to my normal morning routine today, I feel great. I have no regrets. How do you feel? Perhaps a little groggy or overwhelmed by all the food, the drink, the sales, the crowds, and the looming craziness of the “holiday season”?  Although we cannot change the noisy chaos and emotional manipulation coming at us from all angles at this time of year, we can liberate ourselves from its grip.

2. An inspiring thought:

When the mind is quiet

With chattering thoughts at rest,

When the heart is gentle

With selfish thoughts given up,

The spirit will rise and soar.

–from Venerable Shi Wuling, Path to Peace, “November 24”

3. A pact to feel better. One of the most powerful facets of practicing T’ai chi and studying Zen philosophy is that they lead to greater appreciation of the self and the present moment. Try this exercise and make a pact with yourself today.*

Don’t put yourself down and don’t be angry with yourself, for a full month. See what changes that puts you through. Anger is an emanation of the mind. It is not a direct emanation from creativity (the Body-Mind) but one coming from the fashioned creature (the Mind). When you make a mistake, don’t clench your teeth, frown your face, and tell yourself how stupid you are.

Just laugh a little!  We’re all beginners at this game. And we humans really are quite funny to behold.

***

*I’ve been making and renewing this pact monthly since August 13, 2017. Although I admit to kicking myself on one or two Tuesdays evenings after teaching a particularly challenging graduate seminar this semester, I have caught myself and made myself stop. When it happens, I stop, breathe quietly with eyes shut for a few moments, and shake my head at the sneaky way the Mind works, trying to keep me in its miserable power.

And do you know what? The pact works. Those bad old feelings of struggle, self-hatred, and doubt are gradually ebbing away. Life simply is, and it is good.

For more on this exercise and the philosophy behind it, see Bob Klein, Movements of Power, p. 48.

a sale, a pillow, an event! and a break

Even pacifists like success and today was a big first for me: I sold the first Original Honey Girl Pillow, in what I hope will be a long line of Honey Girl Pillows!  Each will have its own special vintage feel and Zen vibe. This one’s name is Blueberry. Just had to celebrate a little!

It is not coincidental that, just before remembering to celebrate with you, I was reading my students’ papers about money in French literature. (All my classes in this my final year of elite college teaching are about money. It’s my gift to the world.)

This blog, despite its ethereal air, is part of a larger project that will begin in just 220 days, when I emerge from the cocoon of college teaching and begin running a small business. Through the creation of Honey Girl Books and Gifts and the ongoing “Write YOUR Story” workshops I plan to teach for adults and kids, I hope to contribute to what sounds like an exciting–if widely scattered–alternative economy here in the USA.

It’s not so terribly “alternative” as that, maybe, although I do hope to pay the seamstresses well, and to hire young artists looking for a break. But by creating comforting narrative quilts for individual clients or families, fun Zen pillows for college kids, and the adorable Honey Girl for anyone, my secret hope is to lure people away from digitalia. The future book line will aim for that too. I hope to help people learn to appreciate old-fashioned ways of production, and time-honored means of communicating through cotton, paper, satin, and flannel.

Be real. Together. Be real together. Be real, together. Be, real together!

Happy Thanksgiving. I’m taking a few days off now.

 

 

morning routine

Dear readers,

Today is the six-month anniversary of a morning routine I began in a tiny apartment in Paris last May. I have done it every day without fail: in people’s guest rooms, in a log cabin on the Olympic Peninsula, in a Reno hotel room looking out over neon lights, and in my home in South Bend.*  You can do it anywhere.

I have lived for more than five decades and have tried all kinds of exercise routines in my life—jogging, aerobics, gym machines—yet I have never been able to stick to a routine this long. Nor have I ever felt so good, consistently, over such a long period of time. So I think there’s something special about it.

Here it is, with warm wishes for good health—in mind and body—to all.

Morning routine

1. Get up two and a half hours before departure time. (For a 7:30 departure, get up at 5:00).
2. Enjoy your favorite warm beverage and a light breakfast (I have cappuccino with two shots of espresso and 2% milk, and a sliced banana in plain yogurt)
3. Choose a pretty window and pull back the curtain. If you’re rushed, you can enjoy your breakfast while doing this. Stand in front of the window, with your heels touching, knees flexible, and feet set at a 90 degree angle. Hold that position for 30 minutes, with head up, eyes roaming around, ears listening, and shoulders relaxed. The hands and arms can cup each other, hang loose, or stretch. It is important to hold the pelvic basin tucked underneath your torso, so that the spine is straight (as if you were suspended from the ceiling with a silver chain).
4. Walk around a little to stretch out your legs. Put on cooler clothes.
5. Begin one-hour exercise session:   a. Do five deep knee squats, as slowly as possible, and hold the deep squat for a count of five seconds, each time.  Hands are pressed against each other in a prayerful position, back is straight, pelvis pulled in.   b. Do twenty push-ups with legs tightly balanced on toes (man-style).  c. Walk around a little, breathe, have a sip of water.  d.  Repeat a. and b.
6. Do a full session of Yang long style T’ai chi! Follow the video of Master Peng’s T’ai chi class, all sessions 1 – 9.
7. Take a shower and get dressed, including flat shoes or boots (no high heels).
8. Get your work in order and step out to meet the world, knowing you have the power to feel strong, balanced and calm, all day long!

*According to Master Peng, you can take a day off from T’ai chi once a week. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.

rainy thoughts

Today it rained all day but that did not stop Honey Girl and me from taking a leisurely walk through the neighborhood until we were totally drenched, but peaceful. There is something melancholy and touching about the natural world at this time of year; there’s a stark sunflower, blackened and brittle, which always catches my eye. Its silhouette against the grey sky reminded me of that scary scene in The Night of the Hunter where Robert Mitchum rides a horse in silhouette against a white sky singing an ominous hymn. Tragic, sad thoughts mull around.

I look at the picture of my relatives, the woman from whom I inherited the sewing machine that has become my spiritual inspiration, and I used to think, “How miserable to live in White Salmon, WA circa 1915. That battle-ax in the middle looks like a real tyrant. It must have been so awful and boring in the rain, in a wooden cottage, etc., etc.”

Today I was thinking of that little girl in the front row, second from the right, because I cut up a quilt that I think she made for me. It is all falling apart, we found it in a drawer a couple days ago. I cut off a piece, restored it, and I’m using it as the basis for the SPARK quilt, since our mothers were so important to many of us SPARK students this session.

Now I realize I may have her all wrong! She may have loved running up and down and through the dripping trees during those wintry days, and playing tricks on that grumpy old grandma to make her laugh, etc., etc.

We can choose the spin we put on our memories. We can choose the spin we put on every person we meet, thinking, “Hey this guy is actually really ….. (positive adjective of your choice)”! and this day is not so bad after all.

 

constant change

I write to you in the midst of a terrifying, electrifying storm. Honey Girl is huddled in the corner of the kitchen downstairs and will stay there for awhile or for hours, maybe, depending on what happens here. The storm has been overhead for about 15 minutes so far: it is close, loud, and electric–probably hitting the river. It reminds us of how lucky we are to have shelter, but also to let go of any certainties. Just as the storm will whip through or crawl and wreak devastation in its wake or not, everything else is in constant change too. Our cells, the air, our feelings, memories.

***

As Nao, the sixteen-year old would-be suicide artist of A Tale for the Time Being says, after watching her wise grandma die: “Everything in the universe is constantly changing, and nothing stays the same, and we must understand how quickly time flows by if we are to wake up and truly live our lives.

“That’s what it means to be a time being, old Jiko told me, and then she snapped her crooked fingers again.

And just like that, you die.

***

The rumbling has moved on and the rain with it. All one can hear now is the dripping eves,  and footsteps below, a distant TV, a car. And the clock just struck nine.

***

Ozeki, A Tale for the Time Being (New York: Penguin, 2013), 408.