Musical Identities

I began the day with the modern rock playlist, which has me in the year 2006, right before graduation.  The song was "Meet Me in the City" by The Black Keys.  I remembered it well.  During my first week in New York, living in a cramped 3 bedroom railroad apartment on Ten Eyck Street in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn, I created a MySpace page, supposedly to increase my connections at a time when I was transitioning to an environment with many more possible connections to people than I'd ever experienced before.  So I made that Black Keys song the music for my "space."  I only look at it about every two or three years, but this song reminds me of my attitude since I came to this place: I want to meet new people who share interests through joyous activity, conversation and contemplation, creating exciting lives.  At the same time I saw a DVD owned by my friend who had invited me to this tiny apartment (where I lived for five weeks before we all got evicted).  It was a documentary about Radiohead a few years into their massive breakthrough, and it was titled Meeting People is Easy.

All of this was on my mind as I entered work, where I was surrounded by people from around the world.  In fact, none of them are from the same country as I am, and none of them are native speakers of my language.  If they were, they wouldn't be in the class, and I wouldn't be teaching them my native language.

Many of the themes of the day were related to reality, identity, and how words can give us clues to deeper descriptions of our personality while paradoxically limiting our potential in the imaginations and expectations of others.

It began with a Peruvian girl asking if I was a "hippie," because I am "relaxed, unworried," and of course, the long hair.  Being the diligent instructor that I am, I gave a ten minute lesson on the origins of the words "hipster," "hippie," "punk," "counter-culture," and "Buddhist" (for some reason) that probably involved more information than some of them needed.  But the point of the discussion was reinforced throughout: when you attempt to express someone through the use of only one word, your lack of elaboration leaves the newly verbally represented person with a word.  This word now supposedly represents their being in the big scheme of things.  "You look like a _____."  Then that is all you are.  Then again, any given name for a type of person might actually lead in directions with distances between them so vast that they might as well be different terms by then.

I remembered the unit we were on was "Personality."  The reading was about The Chinese traditional idea about the five elements present in everything and everyone: water, fire, wood, earth and metal.  Everyone needs a balance of some sort, although some people have some in higher proportions than others.  I explained how in the Chinese zodiac you can be a different personality depending on which leg of the 12 year animal cycle within the larger 60 year cycle for elements.  For example, if you are born in the year of the dragon, the difference between being a water dragon or a wood dragon is twelve years.  Anyone born two years ago is a water dragon.  Anyone born ten years from now will be a wood dragon.  There won't be any new water dragons for 58 more years.  That's a long time to deprive the world of certain types of personalities.  On top of that, it seems strange that everyone born in the same year would have the exact same personality.  Imagine your entire high school graduating class, or college freshman class, and then think of assigning one universal personality to everyone you can think of.  That's what I think of the zodiac's attempts at specificity.

That being said, I enjoy the imagination.  Why not have different animals for different years?  In the Japanese kindergarten we had to celebrate the new year by turning the children into one long dragon with a head and a tail and about twenty Japanese 3-5 year old's as vertebrae.  Then we told them a story about all of the animals.  The reason we made them play a dragon chasing it's own tail was that it was the year of the dragon that year.  I learned that fact upon arriving back in Japan after Christmas vacation in America.  I had a New Year's card waiting for me in my room when I lugged my suitcase in.  It turned out to be from my older student Kazuko, wishing me a happy new year in the year of the dragon.  That was good timing, because I had already discovered a nearby shrine (maybe a 10-15 minute walk) near a small park, and I only had three months left to enjoy it before seeing through my latest plan for a journey: driving and camping around America via a move from New York to California.  I often went to this shrine to relax and pray for good fortune during my journey in my homeland.  I hoped that all of the hard work I was doing and joy I was doing my best to spread to other humans would lead to me not dying somewhere in the woods or on the highway.  This shrine had some strange name like moon dragon shrine, or maybe just moon shrine, but there were several wooden dragons elegantly carved around the bell, which I rang often when I imagined positive futures.  As for water, there was also a small pond with rabbit sculptures about.  Coincidentally, the year before was the year of the rabbit.  I went to that shrine several nights a week, after classes and after writing, usually to walk off dinner while listening to some music.  When I arrived, I usually removed the headphones for a while so I could hear the wind whispering through the few trees I could find those days.

I liked the idea of the "year of the dragon".  I learned that dragons are free-spirits.  And unlike western dragons that must be defeated, the eastern dragon is a symbol of good fortune and powerful life forces.  It comes out beating its chest announcing a good time as long as you will let it be itself and do its thing, which it promises will be amazing.  Even better, dragons are the only imaginary animal in the zodiac.

Even though I wasn't born in a dragon year, I chose the dragon as the official mascot of my 2012 journey experience across America, living as freely, wildly, creatively and bravely as possible.  I used all of that  as inspiration to finish the job, make the money and go on the adventure, where among the dozens of highlights, the top three were all on the water doing risky balancing acts in the pursuit of beauty.

According to them, a dragon personality fits the following description:

The key to the Dragon personality is that Dragons are the free spirits of the Zodiac.  Conformation is a Dragon's curse.  Rules and regulations are made for other people.  Restrictions blow out the creative spark that is ready to flame into life.  Dragons must be free and uninhibited.  The Dragon is a beautiful creature, colorful and flamboyant. An extroverted bundle of energy, gifted and utterly irrepressible, everything Dragons do is on a grand scale - big ideas, ornate gestures, extreme ambitions.  However, this behavior is natural and isn't meant for show.  Because they are confident, fearless in the face of challenge, they are almost inevitably successful.  Dragons usually make it to the top.  However, Dragon people be aware of their natures.  Too much enthusiasm can leave them tired and unfulfilled.  Even though they are willing to aid when necessary, their pride can often impede them from accepting the same kind of help from others.  Dragons' generous personalities give them the ability to attract friends, but they can be rather solitary people at heart.  A Dragon's self-sufficiency can mean that he or she has no need for close bonds with other people.

The Dragon's originality is the most impressive and outstanding of all his characteristics. The Dragon is quite imaginative and always able to see new paths where others may run into brick walls. Dragons are very adaptable and are fit for various occupations, especially if those occupations allow him to take the limelight. In any of these occupational situations, the Dragons will take a radical approach. Dragons work hard, but would rather give orders than receive them. They should avoid jobs that encompass too much routine, and should move toward jobs in which their self-reliance can be an asset.

Dragons like to spend money and are charitable themselves as well as with others.  They do not know the meaning of the word "accumulate," and making money does not intrigue them as it may others.  Many Dragons will take big chances with their finances, sometimes betting on their shirt and losing it right off of their backs.  Yet, they were born with the Midas Touch, and it very rare that a Dragon remains poor for long.  Dragons will always be straightforward in financial dealings and can always be trusted.

As for dragons who like being around water and wood:

Water has a calming effect on the Dragon’s fearless temperament.  Water allows the Dragon to re-direct its enthusiasm, and makes him more perceptive to others.  These Dragons are better equipped to take a step back to re-evaluate a situation because they understand the art of patience and do not desire the spotlight like other Dragons.  Therefore, they make smarter decisions and are able to see eye-to-eye with other people.  However, their actions can go wrong if they do not research or if they do not finish one project before starting another.

Wood has a modifying influence and brings creativity to this sign. Questioning and liberal, Wood Dragons enjoy talking about original ideas and are open to other points of view.  They are innovative, imaginative practical and appreciate art in each of its forms.  Generally less pretentious than other Dragons, Wood Dragons have an ability to get along with other people.  They have the essentials to build a prosperous and happy life for themselves.  Still, Wood Dragons are outspoken and at times a bit pushy to quell everyone, even in the most friendly quarrel. 

This morning I grabbed a book from my shelf as an impulse before walking out the door to the train.  I listened to Sly & the Family Stone's "Dance to the Music" after "Meet Me in the City," and then reached the subway where I pulled out the book by writing hero Tom Robbins.  While living in his adopted home, the Seattle area, he wrote Still Life With Woodpecker.  This, his third book, is about red-bearded outlaws who make the world possible through choice, romance, "raising the exhilaration content of the universe," and being "alive enough and in love enough to stand atop (the pyramids) and bark at the moon together."  It also said that there are traditional cultural stories about red-bearded demigods ordered and supervised the construction of the new world pyramids, such as those outside Mexico City: la Piramide del Sol and la Piramide de la Luna.  Apparently he researches very carefully.  It's a fun story, in any case.

Anyway, I read over my favorite quotes while listening to my favorite musical artist, walked into school, taught the first class about the various sciences (physics, biology, chemistry, geology, genetics), practiced grammar exercises and vocabulary exercises.  We concluded by beginning a unit about the "Psychology of Music."  One of the activities is about how what you listen to relates to your personality.  Once that ended I taught the second group about "Personality."  And that's how we got onto dragons in the first place.

We read the article about the five elements, and the consensus from the students seemed to be that each of them had a balance going and couldn't decide which element to represent their identity.  Nobody was comfortable expressing their identity with one word, and especially not a foreign word arbitrarily chosen by someone else.  Even when we narrowed it to specific adjectives, people said, "Maybe you are mostly peaceful, but sometimes you're the opposite."  So not only do people not like words to narrow them, they don't even like siding with an adjective over its opposite, in strict adherence to the accurate truth of existing: we go up and down and round and round.

After class I rode home on the train, walked home on the road, and imagined I was on a journey to my place.  That wasn't hard, because with all of my walking around the world while not necessarily knowing where I was going, I've become used to associating walking with an uncertain adventure.  Although now I can look forward to knowing that I will escape the street and eventually find the place to which only I have the key.  When I arrived at this special place, I took full advantage of having a bed and took a nap.  Then I made full use of the food at my disposal and ate lunch.  Once that was taken care of, I began writing.  After I had decided I had sat for long enough, I resumed placing pictures on the walls, so that instead of walls I see windows into the world.  Just like that computer program, Windows.  I know that Apple says creative people can only use their product, but I use the standard baseline for word processing and storing digital photographs, and I still think there's some creativity swimming in its circuits.  Beyond that, I let the camera and the words do the talking.

I had placed about fifty photos on the wall when "Meet Me in the City" came on the headphones again.  On June 22 it will be eight years since I first moved to New York City.  I haven't lived here the whole time, as evidenced by the adventures in the pictures.  I've only been back for five months.  The cool thing is that this photo exercise is making me feel like I just got home.

Meanwhile, I'm wearing two shirts: a blue-button down dress shirt currently open and a green t-shirt revealed underneath.  The t-shirt celebrates Lake Champlain's 100th anniversary of ferry transportation.  When I was young, I enjoyed (and feared) the rumors of a magical dragon named Champy that lived in the bottom of the lake and might eat you if you were in a boat, canoe or kayak.  Especially by yourself.  There have been dozens upon dozens of sightings since the rumor began, although every account seems to be completely different.

Champy may be a myth, but I'm here, and so is this dress shirt, which I wore many an evening at work as a banking paralegal in Rockefeller Center, art book publisher's assistant in Chelsea, data assistant/(I had enough free time to read books all day) up the Upper West Side and administrative assistant in radio sports marketing, once again in Rockefeller Center.  I also wore it during my first adventure, toward the completion, in the nation of in China, on two very memorable evenings.

The first involved a third eye meditation session high on a hill along the side of the deepest gorge in the world, Tiger Leaping Gorge in Lijiang province.  I also had on a hooded sweatshirt and an army combat jacket, giving me some strange straight edge worker/hippie wanderer/hardened soldier personality blend (which makes me... metal water wood?)  I waited for the full moon to rise behind Jade Dragon Peak.  One month later I waited for the full moon again, this time beside the giant Golden Buddha, riding atop four elephants (Ganesha, the patron saint of arts and letters invoked during writing sessions, representing the Indian starting line for this same journey?), facing with many eyes in every direction, and surrounded by thousands of candles.  It is raining, and I am huddling for warmth beneath the narrowly roofed entrance to a temple, eluding the flashlights of monks who walk around the statue/patrol the area once an hour.  I am wearing the army jacket, a hooded sweatshirt, and this same dress shirt yet again.  This sporadic poetic living ain't always fun and games: it's hard work too.

The rain subsides, the glowing light of the sun begins to reflect through the clouds, which part to reveal the moon, and not a moment too soon, because "Hey Jude" just happens to be the tune.

I am transported back from the mountain top into a small apartment in Manhattan.  It is raining.  I am thinking of how music says something about who we are.  If your tastes are diverse (and most are nowadays), then it would be hard to explain you with all of the different music represented.  Or maybe it would be completely accurate, with every emotion and feeling accounted for.  I think back to the train to work.  I was listening to Hiromi's "Rainmaker" when I arrived to teach the class this morning.  Maybe because it's spring.  Two years ago today I completed my employment as a kindergarten teacher in Japan, earning my final pay check to help me move through America.  Anyway, as we now know, the whole labels discussion began during the next group, and when class ended I joked that I was going to listen to my "hippie music."  I put on my headphones and remembered that Hiromi's distinct blend of jazz, classical and progressive rock influences were on full display.  That song always reminds me of that mountain, the moon, and the hedonistic meditation that transpired beside an opulent golden emblem of the absence of desire.  On the walk home I resumed the classic rock playlist, which has already advanced through 1967 to 1968, prime years in the soul of artistic expression through song.   As mentioned earlier, after a nap, food and writing, I worked on pictures while listening to Steppenwolf's "Born to Be Wild" and then many songs from Jimi Hendrix's Axis: Bold as Love.  This album, the follow-up to Are You Experienced?, appears to be strangely titled with the word "axis," evoking visions of WWII evil.  This supposed schism is remedied by the remembrance that when reversed to its original form, the supposedly hateful symbol is actually an ancient Indian symbol for peace, which I learned myself in Varanasi, a 5,000 year old city that contains more than its fare share of reverse love swastikas.  See things the other way and you may find paradise today.

After seven songs I change the "hippie" music to "hip-hop" music.  Last night I listened to a lot of rock and roll music, and I'd recently been through much of the jazz and classical lists.  This evening I finished 1996 and began 1997.  Once again, these are special years in the maturation of an art form.  We begin with the final solo album of the epic primary Wu-Tang releases, Ghostface's Iron Man.  Coincidentally, Black Sabbath's "Iron Man" was one of my favorite songs listed in my high school yearbook, and I've never seen the movie Iron Man.  I prefer not to think of the vengeful anti-hero from the dark song and instead look to one of my childhood heroes.  He is, technically, the most popular baseball player of all time: Cal Ripken, Jr.  He broke Lou Gehrig's seemingly unbreakable record for most consecutive baseball games played, with 2,632 shattering the previous mark of 2,130.  He also won the MVP award while playing for the Baltimore Orioles the year before I was born.  He leads all players in all-star balloting votes, which is why I said he is technically the most popular player ever.  Cal Ripken, Jr. is one of the main reasons I played short stop in junior high school.  He was a great fielder, hitter and reliable teammate.  He even holds the records for home runs by a short stop, with 345.  He reminds me to show up to play every day, even if I have water-wood dragon tendencies to try to express myself in many ways.

After a few hours of subjecting my brain to various flows, rhymes, word plays, rhythms and placing pictures, I switch from hip-hop back to modern rock.  The year is 2006.  Ever since I knew what education was, I looked forward to 2006 as the magical year when I would be released from the expected amount of basic education for a middle-class American.  When that year came, it brought new albums by not only The Black Keys, but also The Flaming Lips, Tool and Red Hot Chili Peppers.  The latter released their album the week before we graduated college, and a month before I first moved to New York City.  Eight years later, I am once again a new arrival in this big city of dreams.  But unlike before, I presently have a wondrous web of windows into the world.  They motivate me to channel the poetry into joyful expressions of the persistent diverse illusion that is reality.  Don't worry about illusions.  Enjoy some confusion.  Listen to the mind and music's fusion.

If I were music, I would do my best to transcend genres.  Wouldn't you?  It's fun to do.