The Past Fuels the Present

I feel great!

I can't think of any special reason.  I've just been reading, writing, eating and lifting weights, most of which are normal habits.

Oh yeah!  I just looked at these photos from a mountain in China and read my web logs from May 2013.  That's why I feel excellent.

It's been a slow long struggle to unearth the magic feeling discovered on the road, which New York City's gloomy winter skies and repetitive grammatical employment have worked so hard to bury.

Ganesha is both the placer of obstacles on the path and the remover of those same obstacles.

Team

Apparently I'm a member of a basketball team now.  Last week they had a bye, but I thought they had only invited me to play once because they needed extra people.  But now they want me to come back every week.  The strange thing is that the one who brought me in, my friend Joe, dislocated his finger at the beginning of the game tonight.  He says they fixed it after a few hours of waiting at the hospital, and he carried it like a champ, but I feel really bad for him, because he plays serious volleyball too.  We had to play without him, and we didn't have any subs either, so we had to play the whole 40 minutes full court without rests besides a couple timeouts and halftime.  The other team was better, so even though we somehow managed to stay tied at the half, they pulled away.  Joe was our tallest guy and probably the best shooter on the team, and without him they beat us on the boards.

Even so, it felt great to run around and exercise.  It's not about who has a higher score.  It's about making your heart beat faster.

Right now I'm very happy that my fingers work just fine so I can type this.

Awaiting the Leaves

I hope to have health insurance tomorrow.

In other news, New York City is not a warm place right now, and getting another level 4 grammar class with the same book I've been using for the past ten weeks isn't very inspiring.  But the new faces are, for now.

It's still a few months away, but I'm really looking forward to leaves growing on the trees outside my window so I don't have to see T-Mobile, McDonald's or a constantly scrolling electronic ticker listing names of health care specialists who work in the adjacent windowless building.

Spring will come.  Patience is all.  Pay attention to the good you have and thank the universe for the bad you don't have.

Writing, reading, rest and recharging.

"I'm a Teacher and a Student"

I spent six hours sitting in a crowded room hearing intelligent people use very technical language to describe proper approaches for dealing with annoying parents, unmotivated students and the best ways to bring in the best numbers.  I think it is good to help people, and perhaps there are some students who are trying to get into colleges where they could thrive but they're not particularly good at standardized tests, so we are helping them in their battle to not be held back by a standardized test.  However, I don't believe in bumping up people's scores so they can get into schools where they don't belong.  I took that test once, and it pretty accurately conveyed my abilities at the time.  My score was a little lower than the practice test, but I don't think it ruined my destiny.  I know other people who didn't get very good scores, and I wasn't surprised, and then they got tutors or took courses and learned how to take the test which was supposed to reflect how well they had learned the past eleven years, and they did hundreds of points better.  I will be facilitating that process.

I couldn't help but think of my hero Tom Robbins all afternoon:

“The enemy of the black is not the white. The enemy of capitalist is not communist, the enemy of homosexual is not heterosexual, the enemy of Jew is not Arab, the enemy of youth is not the old, the enemy of hip is not redneck, the enemy of Chicano is not gringo and the enemy of women is not men.

We all have the same enemy.

The enemy is the tyranny of the dull mind.

The enemy is every expert who practices technocratic manipulation, the enemy is every proponent of standardization and the enemy is every victim who is so dull and lazy and weak as to allow himself to be manipulated and standardized.” 

 -Even Cowgirls Get the Blues by Tom Robbins 

Then I thought of my other hero, Joseph Campbell, because I can't continue to support myself in my own apartment (inexpensive as it is) without another job.  From Pathways to Bliss:

Now, there’s one other crisis, and this is a very serious challenge: the intolerable decision where you really have to do something that you regard as immoral, beneath your dignity, something you’re totally ashamed of.

Well, this is an intolerable decision.  And intolerable decisions may meet you.  I had friends during the Depression who had families and no jobs; they had to do some things that they would not, as people in charge of their own lives, have wished to do for the maintenance of their families.  These are the sorts of things that bust up your ego and bring up the whole content of the unconscious.

Now the problem of individuation for Jung, the challenge of the middle-life crisis, lies in cutting these projections loose.  When you realize that moral ideals—the moral life to which you are supposed to be committed—are embodied in the persona, you realize the depth and threat of this psychology.  You are to put your morals on and take them off according to propriety, the propriety of the moment; you are not to identify these morals with cosmic truths.  The laws of society, therefore, are social conventions, not eternal laws, and they are to be handled and judged in terms of their appropriateness to what they are intended to do.  The individual makes his own judgment as to how he acts.  Then he has to look out to be sure that the guardians of the social order do not misunderstand or make things difficult for him because he is not totally playing their game.  But the main problem of integration is to find relationships to the outside world and to live a rich life in full play.

After the long group meeting we got into smaller groups and I got to hear some of the tutors talk about their experiences, and it all began to become more human.  Afterward there was a party with free pizza and booze, and everyone became even more human.  One girl told me that at first she was worried that test prep tutoring would be too constraining, but it can actually be fun.  I remembered back to taking the writing test in November when I had to write the introduction to an essay, and the essay was about the definition of wisdom: is it money, knowledge, or something different, like happiness?  In fact, many of the reading comprehension sections were about issues I had been thinking about a lot at the time and still think about, and would love to discuss with people.  By the time I left the party, I felt better about the upcoming endeavor.  And if it works out, it's only a few extra hours per week on top of my normal work schedule.  At least at first.  I only have to tutor as much as I want to.

Then I came back to my apartment and finished putting up the most effective inspiring quotes from (awesome!  DJ Shadow's "Building Steam With a Grain of Salt" just came on!) my room in California and listened to a great playlist on my iPod.  In fact, it was a playlist I had compiled of my 333 most listened to songs between 2006-2011.  The former is when I bought my iPod and iTunes began keeping track of my most listened to tracks.  The latter was when the headphone jack broke for the second time and I figured I should just buy a new one from the Apple store in Tokyo.  I still have it, in my pocket, right now.  Anyway, I'd started the playlist at number 64 with "Lucky" by Radiohead, and by the time I finished arranging the quotes on my walls it was on "Everything In Its Right Place" by Radiohead.

The #1 most listened to song on this playlist was easily "Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow Medicine Show.

The most listened to song on my new iPod, beginning in 2011, is easily "Place to Be" by Hiromi Uehara.

The second one on both playlists is "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots" by The Flaming Lips.

People Energy

A lot of the reading in class lately has been about handling stress.  That got me thinking about the difference between worrying and handling stress.  While worrying about the future or some present situation can be stressful, experiencing stress doesn't necessarily have anything to do with worrying.  You can simply be in a difficult situation that has resolutions, but difficult resolutions.  Or you can be in a difficult situation with no resolutions.  Unlike worrying, it's not simply a matter of letting it go because nothing can be done, because you still have to experience the stress regardless of what you do.

Of course, I thought about this as one class ended and a new class begins on Monday.  I enjoyed my noon class, and took a moment to wonder about what will become of all of the students and when I will see them again.  There were some tense moments at times when I had to be a drill sergeant and make everyone catch up because of all the holidays, snow days where nobody came even though we had class, and the habit of many of them coming late.  But they all did an excellent job on the test, which means they learned and I taught in an effective way.  Unfortunately, I will likely be moving down several levels from my advanced class, to level 4.  That's the same level that I teach on Sunday's and almost drives me crazy because it's so simple and monotonous, yet they barely understand any of it.  On top of that, a day after getting perfect reviews on my observations from my supervisor, she told me that some students (she couldn't remember which class, which wasn't helpful) complained that we didn't vary the activities enough, and learned grammar and vocab from the book too much.  That was strange timing, as this morning I woke up and remembered fondly how much more fun it had been to teach in San Francisco because I could vary the activities without focusing on grammar so much.  Then again, we had much more time, no syllabus, and plenty of interesting resources at our disposal, including mandatory field trips once a month.  We don't have any of that at this place.  So of course I hear this as the classes are ending and I move to lower levels who have barely any grasp of the language, which severely limits activities such as outside reading, video clips or discussions.

Which brings me back to handling stress.  A few mostly small inconveniences or criticisms can bring long-term frustrations to the fore, and I was in a sour mood when I got home.  But then I got an encouraging e-mail, and saw an excellent video clip on Facebook, and got reminded that it was one of my friend's birthdays and they were having drinks downtown in a few hours.  I just got back, and even though I only had one drink, the conversation had energized me enough to run up the stairs and back to my apartment.  Sometimes I underestimate the effect that positive interactions have on health and energy.  I've been feeling low energy since I got to New York, and I realized that in Japan I was always brimming with energy to write after work because I was leaving a room full of excited kindergartners or walking away from an exciting conversation with advanced adults.  And in California I was tired a lot from the hills and lack of social interaction, but my classes were varied and interesting enough for some inspiration, even though I ultimately became tired of the position and wanted to come back East.  It's important to remember how much of our energy and strength comes from other people.

One of the conversations that really cheered me up was when an engineer who worked in sales asked me what I did, and I explained one connection to the birthday boy involving him subletting my apartment when I left the city for a few years.  This prompted questions about where I had been, and that led to more questions, and more questions, and I found myself saying that these experiences had been investments in both short-term living while young and long-term experiences to draw from.  Despite all the frustrations of the work situations, I feel lucky in the long run.

Some Things to Think About... or Forget

Today I read about how much Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton fought each other at the beginning of the United States government once the current Constitution had been formed.  They were both battling for George Washington's mind about which way to steer the country: strong national government that might resemble Britain and favor those who knew how to manipulate money games, or stronger state governments leading to more power for the average person, which would be more favorable to agricultural societies.  They were both driven by love of their country, and incredibly worried that the view of their opponent would bring disastrous results for everyone.

I saw a link today to an article summarizing a list by a group called Edge, a group dedicated to getting leading minds to share their thoughts.  Every year they ask a question and get intelligent human beings to share their answers.  The longer responses can be found here

The question this year was "What should we be worried about?"

At least one respondent had the wisdom to reply, "That this year’s Edge topic has been poorly chosen." –Kai Krause, software pioneer

I understand the supposed benefit of getting people interested and informed about issues that could affect their world, but a lot of these worries from supposed geniuses make me wonder about their wisdom:

133. “There are known knowns and known unknowns, but what we should be worried about most is the unknown unknowns.” –Gary Marcus, cognitive scientist

Does this guy work for cable news?  Does he get paid by how much people tune in based on fear?

I mean, maybe there's an invisible invincible super nano-particle that we won't know about for one thousand years, or worse, forever, but it's the primary reason humans feel any pain.  But maybe there isn't.  We don't even know about it.  It's an unknown unknown.  Then again, perhaps me saying makes it a known unknown?  So an unknown unknown couldn't even be listed because I don't know that I don't know it....  now why the hell should I worry about THAT?


How about this guy:

28. That there are an infinity of universes out there, but that we are only able to study the one we live in. –Lawrence M. Krauss, physicist/cosmologist

He's right.  That would be terrible.  Only one universe to study.  What a miserly generator of existence.  Or worse yet, what if there weren't infinite universes, but merely billions upon billions upon trillions upon zillions existing within our universe, because each consciousness is a universe unto itself... yet we only get to experience one?  This guy's only way out of his worry war is Hinduism.



Then there are the ones whose worries balance each other out, so I'm not sure which genius's worries I should subscribe to:

109. That humankind’s social and moral intuitions will stifle technological process. –David Pizarro, psychologist
&
114. That historically entrenched institutions will prevent technological progress. --Paul Kedrosky, editor

vs.

36. That technology may endanger democracy. –Haim Harari, physicist
&
150. That science is in danger of becoming the enemy of humankind. –Colin Tudge, biologist, editor at New Scientist



or

105. I’m not worried about Super-AIs ruling the world. --Andy Clark, philosopher and cognitive scientist
&
130. That we won’t have enough robots to do all the jobs we’ll need them to do in coming decades. –Rodney A. Brooks, roboticist 

vs.

106. The posthuman geography that will result when robots have taken all our jobs. –David Dalrymple, MIT researcher


The wise ones:

  76. That we worry too much. –Joel Gold, psychiatrist 

  82. That we worry too much. –Gary Klein, scientist at MacroCognition

  87. There’s nothing to worry about, even though the Large Hadron Collider hasn’t turned up any new discoveries. --Amanda Gefter, editor

  92. That we worry too much. –Brian Knutson, associate professor of psychology

128. That we worry too much. –James J. O’Donnell, classical scholar

129. That we worry too much. –Robert Provine, neuroscientist

  21. Not much. I ride motorcycles without a helmet. –J. Craig Venter, genomic scientist

I used to worry about a lot of things.  I still worry about things very much, from time to time, but less often than I used to.  I used to worry about tarantulas escaping from the pet shops on Long Island, or migrating from the southwest and crossing the Verrazano Bridge.  I worried about anything I saw on scary TV news magazines when I was a kid, which makes sense because they want you to be scared.  I was worried about all sorts of things.  Before I went to India I was worried that I would get a bad disease or be in a bad accident.  Then my dad and his friends started worrying that I would get kidnapped, which I didn't need.  I was worried I would be put in prison for absurd ransom if I got caught partying.  I was afraid somebody I loved would die while I was gone.  Then I was afraid that I would be stuck in some terrible job and never explore again.  I was afraid that I wouldn't ever be able to go to Japan.  Then I decided to hike a lot and worried that I might get eaten by a bear.  Then I worried I wouldn't find a job.  A few times I've gotten too high and worried that the universe was going to kill me.  Those ones were silly.  I brought them on myself.  Yet none of them happened.  I still had problems.  But those were the things I had to handle anyway.  Worrying had nothing to do with them.

There is plenty that you could worry about.  The thing is, if nothing can be done to prevent them, if they are things completely out of your control, just as you coming into this world and all of the miniscule biological mechanisms which have sustained you are and always have been out of everyone's control, there is nothing to worry about.  You've gotten this far, haven't you?

And if you are worried, just imagine your favorite person smiling at you and giving you the thumbs up.

In a Day

All in a day's work:

Walking to work on a beautiful sunny day, but it is five degrees and covered in snow.

Running to make up for leaving late, and noticing that no matter how old you grow, you will always feel like a little kid when you are bundled up and running through snow.

Feeling horror as the sound cuts on your headphones and you notice that they are no longer plugged into anything, and your iPod is no longer in your pocket, and worst of all, you just crossed the street.  Going back to frantically search for your white/gray iPod in the white gray/snow and finding it surprisingly quickly, knowing that failure is not an option.

Having the battery on your iPod run out on the subway even though it was mostly full ten minutes earlier because it is simply that cold.

Teaching a class for two hours about adjective clauses ("she's the kind of person who is always there for you") and adjectives that are frequently considered to be qualities.  Noticing that everyone thinks they embody every typically noble quality, and don't have the negative ones.  Even the talkative ones think they are not talkative.

Teaching another class for two hours about modal verbs, finishing with those related to advice (should, ought to, had better), but only after reviewing the previous three chapters because so many people didn't come during the snow storm yesterday, and they have a final exam on Friday.  Getting observed by another new teacher, and wondering if he is as bored as you were when you had to do that.

Cooking food.  Reading about the world's healthiest foods and being delighted to see that everything you just consumed is on the list, and realizing the irony that this list would have been devastating for you just a few years ago.

Reading a lot about Thomas Jefferson, and learning that despite his hypocrisy as the independence declaring owner of slaves, he did try his best on several occasions to end slavery in his time by making it illegal for any humans to be born into slavery after a certain date and restricting it in new areas, and was secretly happy when anti-slavery measures were enacted in the north, but knew it was political suicide to be from Virginia and do anything more about it in his lifetime after he saw how soundly his attempts had been defeated by his southern colleagues.  Also, learning that his relationship with Sally Hemings, his deceased wife's enslaved half-sister, began in Paris, where she technically had the option to become free, and could have been helped by her brother too, but eventually agreed to go back to Virginia because her "master" promised to set their children free when they turned 21, a promise which he kept.  Learning from the author that, by all accounts, she was incredibly attractive, and he was stressed out, what with all the protecting his country's infancy from internal chaos and outer attacks, being involved with tons of people entangled in the beginning French Revolution, and settling a European financial crisis, not to mention having lost his beloved wife two years earlier while giving birth to a child who had just died two years later, the fourth of his to suffer such a fate.  Regardless of all of that, learning that she couldn't have been more than 15 or 16 years old to his 43 at the time it began.

Learning most of this on the subway ride to Queens to run your car because cold weather and idle cars aren't a good combination.  Laughing when the driver's side door is frozen shut while all of the other ones work just fine.  Running the car and reading for 25 minutes.  Going numb in your legs while walking to the subway and waiting for a very long time for the train to come.

Giving a saxophone player some money on the train, even though he interrupted your Mozart and Jefferson, because, come on, it's live saxophone music in New York!

Doing an SAT math test and only getting a few questions wrong because you're really tired and they were actually reading errors.  Feeling better about improvements.

Writing about India.

Soon: sleeping in your own bed in your own room.

One of the King's Bridges

A few days ago I rekindled my newly formed metaphorical maxim "Ford 'em Till You Find the King's Bridge" based on my old commute to work.  It was about trudging through the drudgery of feeling trapped by a job until something more promising appears.  At the time I was commuting a minimum of 140 minutes daily, and on that particular day and others like it, I had commuted 280 minutes. I was also less than enthused about my job.  In Japan I had a similar situation, where sometimes I didn't feel enthused by one job or another, but I could handle it because I had two different jobs.  I didn't feel like either one owned me.  I didn't feel beholden to anybody.  I was living my life and happened to do work for two different companies.


Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday is celebrated today, and I finally found a bridge to get away from this feeling of dependency on the job that doesn't particularly challenge beyond the basic human battles of dealing with stress and standing on your feet while accomplishing some feat.  I surpassed 700 on the SAT Math and qualified to work for a tutoring company.  It's not a guarantee of employment, as I still have to survive training and an assessment that shows I can tutor well.  I'm not worried about English, but math is clearly a different story.  So even though I've been doing SAT Math questions during much of my "three day weekend," and only breaking on Sunday to teach my class, I still have to keep doing Math SAT's for the next two weeks so I am fully prepared for students.  I need to be the master for them to have confidence in me.

Then again, it can only get better.  I've had a nasty head cold ever since I woke up three days ago, and it has barely subsided.  Doing math after breaking for a decade and then re-learning it with a head cold is a less than ideal situation, so it should only get easier after this.

As far as Dr. King is concerned, I thank him for what I understand of his passion, efforts, resilience, sweat, tears and blood, although I can't fathom just how much it involved.

I would also like to thank him for the synchronicity of metaphors that his legacy provided me.  The second time I took the SAT Math, two weeks ago, I decided to go above ground at the corner of Martin Luther King and St. Nicholas, and I realized I had scheduled the test for two weeks later, on Martin Luther King Day.  St. Nicholas brought me a belated Christmas present today.  It's still an uphill climb, and it's slow, but I continue to elevate.

Just as I cannot quite understand the battle Dr. King fought not only for his people, but for all people, I cannot quite fathom the power behind this song.  Even so, like Dr. King, the beautiful music of the voice inspires me.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go blow my nose.

I just watched The Artist

I woke up with a cold this morning, but it was a sunny walk to work.  A bus passed by right before the subway, and it said "Forever Young II" on the side.  It both inspired me and saddened me.  I'd written in "Forever Young" about always pursuing and appreciating the bliss of life, and being kinder and braver and trying something new every day.  I haven't felt like that much in New York the past three months, or at least not as much as I expect to based on everything I've been through.  Maybe the contrast to adventurous life makes it a little harder to adjust.  There have been some great moments, and overall life is decent, and I'm very aware it's all been a necessary transition to get where I want to go.  But truth be told, I'm tired from all of the travels, poetry patterns, uncertain and constantly changing living conditions, and teaching mundane material to decent yet unenthusiastic company.

My cold got worse throughout the day, so I succumbed to some fast food on the way home instead of waiting to get home and take a while to cook, and then took an hour long nap.  Waking up from the nap reminded me of why I don't eat fast food anymore.  Then I got a new SAT study book to help for the test Monday.  I can only study Math for so long, so after dinner I watched this movie I've had since I first moved to San Francisco but hadn't watched yet.  It's called The Artist.  It won the Oscar a couple years ago.  It's a silent film, and I enjoyed it very much.

Afterward I opened up the only hard copy of the book I wrote last year and found many of the pictures I used to have on my wall tucked into a pocket in the back, along with several quotes I used to have on my wall.  I slowly began sorting them out and realized my walls were a little bare.  Now I've got a little more inspiration and quite a few photographic reminders of where I've been and why I went on the journeys.

I did write in "Forever Young" that sometimes you just have to be patient during certain life situations and make the best of them while you can.  And I told everyone I met on the road and off the road that you can do what you want if you have basic freedom and determination and know how to be patient.

Beyond the routine mundane scenery and activities of daily life lately, I feel love and hope, and that's enough.

"You can decide to forget that you are a writer at all

and you can decide to sit down at your [laptop]

and put words on paper, one at a time,

in the best fashion you know how."

- Preface to The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze

by William Saroyan

Good morning!

Hustle

My friend's company basketball team needed an extra this week because a few people couldn't make it, so I just played my first organized basketball game since college, and my first 5-on-5 full court game in three years.  It was fun, but I definitely would have been better if I had played more recently.  I scored about ten points, which wasn't optimal for me at all, but I had a lot of rebounds and a few steals.  The first time I took a break one of my teammates commented on my intense hustle and rebounding.  That's the easy part.  Sometimes the shot is off because you're out of practice or it's a strange ball or rim, but you can always hustle.

Then I came home and checked Facebook and the ad algorithms had things about basketball leagues on them, but I had only texted with my friend about it.  There was absolutely nothing on my computer about playing basketball any time recently.  Strange.

Recharging

There is much to say, but sleep is necessary to charge the brain and keep the heart beating right.  Music, food and friends chased by reading and expression are the best (especially when you read something you wrote a while ago to remind yourself that you can still write).  On the ride home I saw someone reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar.  I can relate.

Work

I woke up this morning and saw a friend request from one of my best students in San Francisco.  She'd been accepted to an art institute, wished me luck on my journey and said she missed my stories.  I felt great after reading that.  I'm always uplifted by a message from a former student.  Especially one that says they miss my stories, not my grammar explanations.  I haven't been able to tell stories in class in NYC, and if I did have the time, they wouldn't understand.

Then I went to work and spent another day teaching them how to write present unreal conditionals.  "If [this were true], I would [do this]."  Of course, "this" isn't true, so I won't "do this."  But it's always nice to imagine things, or bring up hypothetical situations.  One of the students, who is generally friendly but must have been part of the group of four who complained about me, breathed deeply after my tenth review of the grammar (which began yesterday, but he missed) and said, "Teacher es diablo."  I said, "I'm the devil?" and everyone laughed.  I said, "If I had created the rules for English, I would have made them easier for you.  If I were the devil, I would lie to you about the grammar instead of teaching you the correct grammar."  We're also learning about vocabulary related to lying and telling the truth.

The next class began with the present perfect and indefinite past, on page 133.  There was a picture of the pyramids and a camel, and then balloons in the next picture.  Then a guy climbing a mountain.  The theme of the chapter was "adventure travel."  One of the readings was about a woman who got paid to do adventurous things and write about them.  An exercise toward the end of class involved asking the students where they had been, and one of them had been many places because the Catholic Church had sent him there.  Then a very outspoken but funny student who works for the Dominican embassy and has also traveled a lot said that "it is a pedophilic church," but then responded to protests from Catholic students by admitting that "not all priests are pedophiles."  Then a few of the students started asking me what I believed, and I said I believed in teaching the present perfect tense, which was a lie, but as we learned in the previous class, a "white lie."  Then I admitted I wasn't raised with any religion, but I believed in the bigger picture or whatever you call it, and that what I believed was irrelevant as far as them learning grammar was concerned.  Of course, only two students heard me amidst the loud Spanish pronouncements of the original two debaters, who would constantly turn to me to explain what is happening in the world, whether it's religion or politics, as if them convincing me of their position would somehow settle the matter in the world.  Then class ended, and I went home.

I cooked good food for a late lunch, and then tried very hard to do SAT math problems for my retake test on Monday.  But my brain hated me for not sleeping enough Sunday night, so I took a nap to recharge, bought some more groceries, and then went back at it.  I do not like math.  Back in high school I was never that kind of person who said that, because I learned it every day and it made sense to me.  After a twelve year break, some of these questions make no sense to me.  I've got time to study though, and I'm retaking it on a day when I don't have to teach.  I've noticed that my brain hurts more when I try to do math after a day of teaching.  After math I finished The Information Diet by Clay Johnson and began Thomas Jefferson's biography by Jon Meachem.  I read a brief one about him a few years ago which focused on a few major political points in his life, but nothing very in depth.  For all of his moral contradictions (which we all have to certain degrees), he was certainly a Renaissance man.

After some reading I needed more food and went shopping while listening to Feist.  During that song, "One, Two, Three, Four" she sings a lot about high school, which is coincidentally the last time I cared about difficult math, and then says, "You're changing your heart, you know who you are."

Then I cooked some pasta with beef, peppers and onions, something I haven't done in years, and it was delicious.  Then I drank some ginger tea to settle the stomach.  The message tag on my Yogi tea said, "Recognize that you are the truth."

I felt better after the food, but still a little lax overall.  My mind's been off the past two days.  It's been hard to concentrate.  At least the moon parted the clouds as I opened up my wisdom binder for some inspiration.  It reminds me of who I was when I left this city, who I still am, and who I've become.  But none of it has anything to do with SAT Math or basic grammar.


Truth: if I hadn't been trying to write my book as quickly as possible so that I could be where I want to be, I would have done a better job writing it so far.

There is no solution but to write and to live in the process.

We all have trifling tributaries to ford.  You just gotta ford 'em till you get to the king's bridge...

Truth

You are beyond great!

(I clicked "post" on this last night, but I guess it didn't happen)

"Don't You Hate Pants?"

This weekend I saw several episodes of the critically acclaimed HBO show The Wire, the new Scorsese film The Wolf of Wall Street and read about half of one of my Christmas presents, the book The Information Diet.  All three did an excellent job of attempting to disillusion me about society, specifically with respect to the seemingly eternal imbalance between money/power-fueled greed being the mechanism behind most of advanced perception of existence and those who care about something deeper, such as magic, art, poetry or all three.  Even so, I really enjoy checking back in with society by once again investigating portrayals of our systems, something I have shunned in recent years, if only to feel better about not letting my attention be absorbed by them, however much they inherently affect our lives.

After work I had to go to Queens to check on my car and run it for about twenty minutes so the engine would stay fresh enough, and as an added bonus I had dinner with my friend who had generously hosted me on his couch for my first few months in the city.  On the way there I was reading a very serious explanation of why humans tend to click on and pay attention to the things they do and how that obscures the transmission of true information, and how media isn't trying to brainwash anybody but is simply acting upon its own impulses to be as profitable for shareholders as possible by giving people what they already know they want (just like fast food ignores nutrition).

While immersed in this book I noticed that several people standing in front of me had taken off their pants.  At least ten of them.  They were all wearing underwear.  I changed trains at Times Square, and I saw more and more people without pants.  The same on the way to Queens.  I couldn't figure it out.  Somebody had muttered something about a party in mid-town, but they wouldn't be without pants on the way to Queens if that were the case.  And why did they take them off as soon as I got on the train?  Later my friend responded by saying it must be "international no pants day on the subway," which apparently is a real thing.  I just looked it up, and it started as a joke by an improvisation group in New York in 2002.  One of the creators said, "The mission started as a small prank with seven guys and has grown into an international celebration of silliness, with dozens of cities around the world participating each year."

Metro

We ate at this Louisiana soul food restaurant in Astoria, and toward the end of the meal this band began setting up right near where we were sitting.  Then this very concerned waitress came up to us apologizing profusely and telling us that we needed to move to another booth because these guys with drums and a tuba were setting up to play soon, but hoped we would accept a free round of drinks as compensation for the inconvenience.  We were almost done anyway, so we happily moved to a comfortable six-person booth with pillows for back support, and I had another glass of red wine while the band played New Orleans jazz.  Also, while reading the presidential themed place mats, I learned that Franklin Roosevelt took office in 1933, and Harry Truman was the 33rd president.  Not bad for the leaders of the US during World War II.  The band didn't play very long, and as we left the bar, the radio was playing "Hey Jude."

Afterward I took the subway back to Harlem, but when I got on the N train I saw a very serious looking man holding an enormous yellow smiley-face balloon, so I had to get on that car with him.  It wasn't your typical yellow smiley face.  It was showing teeth, and the eyes had little white circles inside of them, instead of your standard black eyes with a simple black parabolic smile.  Meanwhile, the wine agreed with my mood, and when I emerged at 137th street I was ecstatic to see the moon shining above.  I realized I was standing there for probably too long for someone who wasn't on drugs, and I hoped someone was looking at me funny, and I thought that maybe one day I would get a chance to explain to someone who thought I was strange that someday we wouldn't be here at the cutting edge of time as we know it, and that when it's all over, we'll probably wish we stood and stared at the shiny sunlight reflecting off the moon at night instead of worrying about what other people thought of us.  Then again, if I was truly a man of principle, I suppose I wouldn't have been wearing any pants either.

Eat and Drink

I love grape juice.

And red kidney beans.

And tofu.

And broccoli.

And red bell peppers.

And carrots.

And onions.

Kale is growing on me, but I just finished it.  This week I'll get spinach.  I miss eggplant too.  It's been a while.

Most of all, I seriously love mushrooms.  And soy sauce.  Other sauces are good from time to time, but soy sauce is cheaper, lasts longer, and doesn't have strange artificial ingredients.

I love that I used to be a junk food junkie, so I got to enjoy all of those delicious goodies, and I love that now, not only do I make myself eat better food, but I tend to desire better food, and less food.  This is my first true meal of the day.  Green tea, granola bar, banana and mixed nuts were my stomach's only friends today, until now.

I don't mean to brag about my current healthier eating habits or nag you about yours (depending on who you are, you may still best me in the health department, but as with anything, the race is long and it's only with yourself).  You see, I finished reading Joseph Campbell's first book today and spent about ninety minutes sampling the best parts while listening to great music.  Later, as I was standing in line at the grocery store, a simile stared me in the face.  I saw some Skittles, and thought about how much I used to love them, and how I knew I was supposed to be eating healthier food but that I would have time to change and I really didn't like being told what to do, or worse, shamed into feeling bad about my choices.  I eventually did change my habits, after all, but according to my life's schedule, not someone else's.  It's the same with these hero journeys.  Just as with nutrition all one can do is pass information to others so that they can make informed healthier choices if that is their goal, all I can do with writing is share the experiences, and maybe someone eager to expand their experience will become interested in what the journeys of the body and the mind can do for one's joy.


According to this mysticism of sexual love, the ultimate experience of love is a realization that beneath the illusion of two-ness dwells identity: “each is both.”  This realization can expand into a discovery that beneath the multitudinous individualities of the whole surrounding universe—human, animal, vegetable, even mineral—dwells identity; whereupon the love experience becomes cosmic, and the beloved who first opened the vision is magnified as the mirror of creation.  The man or woman knowing this experience is possessed of what Schopenhauer called “the science of beauty everywhere.”  He “goes up and down these worlds, eating what he desires, assuming what forms he desires,” and he sits singing the song of the universal unity, which begins: “Oh, wonderful!  Oh, wonderful!  Oh, wonderful!” (Campbell 240)


When I first moved into this room, I opened up the window and saw a taxi on the street, and the ad on top of the taxi was for a movie called Nut Job.  "Thanks universe," I said sarcastically.  As if I wasn't aware of the status quo's likely interpretation of my activities and ideas in recent years, especially the ones that transpired during what Campbell would call my hero journey away from this city.

Today, as I left the store, I saw the ad again, but this time I looked closer (looking closer is always better for you) and underneath the title it says, "No nuts, no glory."

Speaking of which, I am having a great time writing my story.

Free Art

I got observed at work again today.  Everything went well, but there was an added element of interest this time around.

Yesterday the boss called me into her office during the break for my second class.  She told me that she had received a complaint from a group of students, although it was really all led by one student.  I was surprised.  This had never happened before.  Apparently I always asked the same person to read, I didn't have them do any group exercises, the class was boring, I didn't smile enough, and when I did it was sarcastic.  But then she clued me in on who had made the complaint, and it all made a little more sense, but was still a little bizarre.

There is a group of four students that tends to be very chatty during class, comes in at least ten minutes late every day, and takes at least fifteen to twenty extra minutes for their break every day.  Two of them missed the first week of class and came in late while talking at the beginning of this week.  So at one point during class yesterday I was explaining to every one that we were turning to a new page (the next one) and going to do some exercises at the bottom of the page.  At this point one of the girls, who had been talking to someone the whole time I was speaking, gave me this completely bewildered look as if to say, "Where are we and how was I supposed to know?"  Then she said, "I don't know where we are!" even though we hadn't really begun yet, and we were going to do the first few as a class.  I said, "I know you don't because you were talking," and then smiled to show that I found it all funny but also to let her know that she shouldn't be talking.  There was a quick laugh from some of the class and then we moved on.  So of course, that was the person leading the complaints against me.  In fact, the boss told me that one of the students was shaking his head and putting his head in his hands to try to stop her from levying all of these false charges against me, especially the "only calling on one student to read" part, which is more than a few steps away from reality, as he's always raising his hand to read first, and I let him read but then have to ignore him the next eight times because other people want to read.

Luckily my boss was on to them already, and was aware they were chatty instigators based on the last class they were in.  Even so, she said she had to observe my class.

She didn't come during the first hour today, so I figured she might have meant next week, and I just ran the class as usual.  It had been a while since we had done a group exercise, but that's mostly because--as I mentioned in a previous post--the school has assigned a text book with material that is a little too advanced for this group, and the exercises are beyond their understanding.  So I came up with a simple exercise for them to practice the grammar with a partner, and had them all write down things they "used to" do.  I told them that they would be working in pairs to interview each other after the break.  Of course, once the exercise was already under way, my boss came in to observe the class.  Better yet, the complaining students were over fifteen minutes late coming back from break.  They were talking a little when they came in, and my boss couldn't help but shush them.  Then the rest of the class went perfectly and I found out later that I was great and they were the problem.  Even so, it's always good to have a challenge to step up your game.

After a long week of work (I had to catch up the second class at high speed this week because of all the holidays) I was very happy to go home, but I didn't want to waste the evening.  I remembered that when I used to live in New York they had these free Friday nights at the Museum of Modern Art, so I checked the web site and sure enough they still do.

It's absolutely beautiful that anyone can just walk in and see the genius of Picasso, Matisse, Van Gogh, Seurat, Miro, Dali, Rousseau, Cezanne, Munch, Gauguin, Duchamp, Ernst, Mondrian, Warhol, de Kooning, Rothko, Pollock and Jasper Johns completely for free.  Even better, because the free admission draws such a crowd, you can listen to your favorite music without fear of bothering people or being shushed by guards in what would normally be a mostly vacant and quiet room.

When I entered the exhibits the first one to greet me was the face of what must have been a gigantic clock.  Its hands were at the time 5:24.  5/24 is Bob Dylan's birthday.  When I began my big road trip West in 2012, I stayed at my friend's in Ithaca and flipped open his memoir Chronicles, Vol. 1 to this very page, I kid you not (I never kid about these things):

I was lucky I had places to stay--even people who lived in New York sometimes didn't have one.  There's a lot of things I didn't have, didn't have too much of a concrete identity either.  "I'm a rambler -- I'm a gambler.  I'm a long way from home."  That pretty much summed it up.

In the world news, Picasso at 79 had just married his 35 year old model.  Wow.  Picasso wasn't just loafing about on crowded sidewalks.  Life hadn't flowed past him yet.  Picasso had fractured the art world and cracked it wide open.  He was revolutionary.  I wanted to be like that."  (Dylan 55)

I was listening to a playlist of my favorite "artsy" music at the time, and The Beatles' "A Day in the Life" was on as I climbed the escalators to the fifth floor, where all of the familiar greats would be.  I took introduction to Modern Art History in college, and I got a kick out of the fact that I still recognized many of the paintings.  Right when that song hit its fantastic crescendo finale, I found myself standing in front of a Joan Miro painting painted in 1933-34.  I was immediately reminded of the only quote I know from Joan Miro:

"The works must be conceived with fire in the soul, but executed with clinical coolness."

I had taken my time getting there, so I only had a little over an hour to spare before they closed.  As soon as I arrived I promised myself to come back soon and arrive at 4 pm, when the free evening starts.  Even so, I was able to see the famous canvases which were actually touched by these divine imaginations:  Picasso's "Three Musicians," "Card Player," "Les demoiselles de'Avignon," and "Girl With Mandolin," Van Gogh's "Starry Night," Dali's "The Persistence of Memory," and the Rousseau where the gypsy is sleeping in the desert but the lion doesn't eat her.

The guards were already shooing us out the door when I realized I hadn't seen any Jasper Johns yet.  At the last minute I noticed his American flag on a wall in a room without a cranky guard, so I quickly walked over listening to Hiromi's "Place to Be."  After all of these years of wandering the globe, my current place to be is in New York City, amongst the stars and the stripes.

Jasper's painting brought back warm memories of my last viewing of his work, at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, during last year's Super Bowl.  I learned then that he thought numbers can be used to 'awaken the viewer's eye and mind to experience the familiar in a new way.'  Also, he liked 'reconfiguring of familiar subjects in different media and different dates as a means of providing new ways to read the signs.'

As I walked through the lobby of NYC's MoMA, eleven months after my last encounter with that particular artist's work, I saw another familiar work of art.  It was Mike Kelley's teddy bear, which was on the subway for my first few months after moving back to the city.

I clapped and said, "Hey Bear!"  The universe loves when you applaud.

Wealth

To have clean water

To have food

To have safe haven from the cold

To have a bed

To have people

To have movement

To have music

To have eyes

To have information

To have imagination

To have heart

is to have wealth

Home

I was just catching up on journal entries for the past five days of moving and visiting family and so on, and decided to look up what happened a year ago.  All it said was that the new album MOVE by Hiromi Uehara arrived in the mail.  I had ordered it as soon as I found out it existed, but had to pay extra because it hadn't been released in the US yet.  I haven't been much of an audiophile interested in consuming new music since I began traveling.  90 GB on one's iPod will eventually have to satiate one's thirst for new music, because there's just too much spectacular quality to listen to already.  Since 2009 there have only been a handful of artists whose new releases interested me during my travel years, and Hiromi has definitely been at the top of that short list.

When the MOVE album arrived, I was finishing my first week in my mostly empty room in San Francisco.  All I had in my amply sized room (twice the size of my current NYC room) was a camping mat, sleeping bag, camping pillow, camping chair and a whole bunch of books lining the walls.  I didn't have a job, I didn't have any friends in the city, and I didn't really know what I was doing, other than the fact that I was on a journey, exploring California and the West Coast, and that I was expressing my soul through artistic endeavors such as writing, photography and synchronizing everything I could see, so long as there was some poetry (even if only understood by me).

This year I put the finishing touches on my new room in Manhattan by finally installing a makeshift curtain after nailing up a real curtain rod, hanging up the rest of my clothes on hangers that my family brought for me, and finally organizing the rest of my things.

The thing is, every time I listen to that album, it makes me want to move!  Well, the word "move" has many meanings, and it doesn't have to mean changing apartments.  At least not for a while.  I'm a block from the 1 train, a five minute ride and thirty minute walk to Central Park, 25 minute ride to work, 10 minute walk from a childhood friend, and I'm living on the same island as the Empire State Building for the first time in my life.  I've got a window with a view, my first bed in NYC that wasn't supported by a creaky loft with a ladder, a serious writing habit, plenty of reading and world traveling experience behind me and ahead of me, and finally, an informed discipline and enjoyment of healthy food, which I can prepare for myself.  Having a grocery store across the street is a huge plus.  Most importantly, I have friends here, and my family (including hometown friends) is only a few hours away.

As if that wasn't enough, there is a pizza shop literally right next to my building's door, but I haven't succumbed to temptation since I saw the place ten days ago.  Although my Food Rules book says it's healthy to indulge from time to time.  We read about healthy food in class today, though, so I don't think I'll be breaking the pizza fast today.

Speaking of indulgence, The Daily Show has been covering the legalization of marijuana in Colorado quite a bit, because all sorts of conservatives are getting up in arms about it.  I'm happy that Stewart effortlessly picks apart their arguments, yet at the same time I'm enjoying my longest abstinence from that particular plant (several months so far) since when I lived in Japan.  A lot of the critics said it was dangerously addictive, and that does happen to some people, but I've felt fine without it.  The only times I didn't feel fine were because I was incredibly sleep-deprived, which is a whole other thing.  I think this whole legalization for recreation is a very positive step in the freedom of choice and spread of positive information.  I think it's a very positive trait to be able to enjoy more of this world through what it has to offer, and a very positive trait to make responsible choices over what you consume and what you don't and how often you do it so that you don't miss out on other beautiful offerings from the miracle of life.

Speaking of miracles of life, if you don't have Hiromi's album MOVE but you do enjoy powerful, emotional, sophisticated, funky, beautiful, ethereal, fun, heavy, fast-paced, relaxed, dreamy, dark, joyous, jazzy, progressive, classically influenced and overall excellent music, I think you should spend the money.

And if she ever comes your way, go see the show.

Until then, move your body around, because there's a lot to see.  Move your mind, because there's a lot to learn and understand and imagine.  Move the hearts of those around you because they're connected to you and everything you do.  Your world will be an excellent place to be if you spread your quality energy through every place you may be.