SUN
TREES
HUMANS
BLUE SKY
SPARKLING WATER
STARS
LIFE
Friday, June 7, 2013
Thursday, June 6, 2013
It's Something
We gave $61 to Save the Children. One of the students recommended them, and my quick online research confirmed that they are a reputable organization doing worthwhile work.
Then again, we've already got $10 for the next spending spree. We'll have to find another creative way to spend it next time.
It's almost the weekend. Go have fun
Then again, we've already got $10 for the next spending spree. We'll have to find another creative way to spend it next time.
It's almost the weekend. Go have fun
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Cookies Make the World Go 'Round
If life was all in your imagination and it was only as real as your experiences, why would you bother to help anyone else?
Everyone wants a larger experience of love life at every level, in every way, every moment of every day. But who is "everyone"?
__________________________________________
Around 11 pm last night I ate a huge gooey warm chocolate chip cookie and washed it down with a delicious glass of cold milk, and life was perfect. I'd done my job, I'd written, I'd earned my place to be.
The other week my class talked a lot about morality, but what's wrong with eating a cookie? When you're a kid they tell you that the man who gives you all of your favorite things reads your letters first, accepts your offering of cookies and milk, and then shares the joy of life's toys.
My mom makes the best chocolate chip cookies in the world. There is no contest on this. Sometimes I suspect that's the only reason my cousins Mike and Dan came to stay with us for two weeks every summer. They just wanted some of Aunt Sue's divine freshly baked cookies.
Sometimes my roommate can tell I have cookies, and he not so subtly asks if I'm about to heat up a cookie in the microwave, even though I've clearly been cooking something else for half an hour. But I take the hint and give him a cookie, and he smiles and says thanks and I say, "No problem! I love sharing cookies, and too many are bad for me anyway!"
He got me on a good day. Once I was pretty sure that he took a cookie without asking, and I was really pissed out of principle, even though I knew that I could afford them more easily and that the damn cookie wasn't good for me anyway. There's something about controlling your own property...
___________________________________________
When I was in Cabo last week, I was relaxing on the beach when I noticed the Tao yin-yang symbol on the side of a massage hut. Whenever I think of Taoism I think of the old story where they say, "Who knows what's good or bad?" because good things lead to bad things and vice versa.
__________________________________________
Today I got to class one minute late, and someone had written on the board, "If Teacher Ben arrives after 9:30, he has to pay $5!" I already had four dollars in my hand, prepared as a generous donation of my own accord, so I laughed very hard.
I have a rule in my class that if you're not there by 9:30 and want to get counted in attendance, you have to bribe the class a dollar. If you're over an hour late, it's $2. After two hours, you better have a doctor's note. I pocket the dollars and write the total on the board so we have full transparency, and then we spend it all when we have enough.
The last time I spent the money, we had about $25. One of my students, a Brazilian who works in the oil industry, had been insisting for weeks that I organize the class somehow and get them to hang out on his downtown apartment's rooftop for a barbecue. Brazilians love to barbecue. This guy was jacked, and made no secret about how much he loved to eat steak on a regular basis. When he finally revealed that it was his last week in class, I caved to his friendly wishes and organized a class field trip/pot luck dinner to his apartment's rooftop, where we barbecued and played games and spoke English as a basic requirement for the experience. I used the $25 to buy sausages, which went over well with the crowd.
When I arrived today, my phone said 9:29, but the class clock said 9:31, so I fished a few of the previous day's dollars from my pocket and added four more to the total, making it $55. By the end of class we had $61. Chung Fu!
On Monday we read about deforestation of the Amazon rainforest in Brazil. In the past 80 years, 20% of the rain forest has been cleared by cattle ranchers and land speculators. Interestingly, the worst offender of deforestation is a man named Maggi who has a soy bean empire. I'd been under the impression that eating tofu was theoretically saving the forest, but now I'm not so sure. Although Brazil is now the leading exporter of beef in the world, most of Brazil's beef is actually exported to Europe, not the US, because we have enough of our own. We ended the class with the students writing about the most important problems/issues facing the world.
This morning, even though I was late, I knew exactly what we were going to do. I was well prepared with course syllabus handouts, project handout's and the day's lesson plan. I'm always vaguely aware of what we'll do because of the continuity of text book material, but I also thrive on the spontaneity and never like to have too much planned. I think I've finally struck a decent balance.
Today we began by writing about charitable causes that we thought were deserving of donations. The top four were the Red Cross, World Hunger (mostly Africa), educating less fortunate children, and stopping child kidnapping and slavery (specifically in South America). Through anonymous votes we narrowed it down to World Hunger and educating less fortunate children, and after the final vote, educating less fortunate children won. Unfortunately, nobody knew of a specific charity that helps less fortunate children become educated. I contributed a dollar a day to Plan International (for five years... now, like many people, I donate to various charities that I research), and that's really only because the right canvasser jumped in front of me at the right time six years ago in NYC. I'd literally just gotten a raise at my first well-paying job. Now some girl in Burkina Faso is supposedly getting cleaner water and food or something. I'm supposed to write to her, but I don't, because it's strange. The only times I did, an older woman wrote back to me saying she was doing fine. I asked one of my friend's who got his masters in international aid and non-profit work, and he verified that they're an honest organization, so I feel better about it. Nothing special, just one less dollar a day that I spend on myself. One less beer a week. Still imperfect, still occupying space, still consuming the world to get by.
Anyway, we'll see what we come up with tomorrow. We're not going to fix any problems, just throw a little bit of our money at them, instead of spending it on sausages and steak for ourselves like the other time. I don't regret the other time. But it's better to mix it up.
After the voting we watched a video from the History Channel series The History of US. We learned about the settlers who starved when they first came to America, and how the tobacco industry and help from native Americans saved them. Then we learned how colonists got so damn mad about having part of their hard-earned money taken away by England that they decided to risk their lives and kill people over it. Then their descendants killed all of the Native Americans who had saved them and given us the inspiration for the "Thanksgiving" holiday celebrating appreciation for everything you're lucky to have. Now their descendants still complain about being taxed by the nation with the most affluent, wealthy and easy existence in human history.
__________________________________________
I talked about video games yesterday. Maybe life really is like a video game. The bad guys that get hurt are just pixels that can be recycled at any time, the good guys that get hurt are just to make the story better and they'll greet you safely at the end, and you should never really worry about getting hurt because there will always be extra lives and power-up items to help you through. All that bad stuff is just to make the game that much more worthwhile to play. Maybe.
So if life is only as real as the feelings you feel, why bother giving money to some distant person that might not even exist, or might as well not as far as your reality occurs? What's the difference between someone starving in Africa or some advanced alien starving millions of galaxies away? I don't know.
But I do know that at the end of class, one of my students gave me three cookies because she works at Mrs. Fields. I ate one of them happily, and then I gave the other two to this homeless guy who's always on the same corner handing out street sheets. You know how much effort that cost me? Zero. Do you know how much of a better person that makes me? Not at all. All my bad stuff is still in me. I'm still going to be selfish and indulge in the world's pleasures. I did just get back from vacation in Cabo.
So why bother? Well, because there is now less fat and sugar in my body, sucking my life away from me. A little is perfect for the body, but too much is no good.
And it's not just physical. As unimportant and simple and fleeting as that cookie transaction was today, something about me feels better knowing that I didn't need it, and it was so easy to let go, even though I was hungry at the time. I'm an American, so I wouldn't want anybody to take my stuff, but I also understand the freeing feeling of knowing that what matters most is what I am, not what I have. You only have things as tools to help you be more of you and have higher quality experiences that the world wants you to.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stress you or attack you.
Here.
Have a cookie.
Everyone wants a larger experience of love life at every level, in every way, every moment of every day. But who is "everyone"?
__________________________________________
Around 11 pm last night I ate a huge gooey warm chocolate chip cookie and washed it down with a delicious glass of cold milk, and life was perfect. I'd done my job, I'd written, I'd earned my place to be.
The other week my class talked a lot about morality, but what's wrong with eating a cookie? When you're a kid they tell you that the man who gives you all of your favorite things reads your letters first, accepts your offering of cookies and milk, and then shares the joy of life's toys.
My mom makes the best chocolate chip cookies in the world. There is no contest on this. Sometimes I suspect that's the only reason my cousins Mike and Dan came to stay with us for two weeks every summer. They just wanted some of Aunt Sue's divine freshly baked cookies.
Sometimes my roommate can tell I have cookies, and he not so subtly asks if I'm about to heat up a cookie in the microwave, even though I've clearly been cooking something else for half an hour. But I take the hint and give him a cookie, and he smiles and says thanks and I say, "No problem! I love sharing cookies, and too many are bad for me anyway!"
He got me on a good day. Once I was pretty sure that he took a cookie without asking, and I was really pissed out of principle, even though I knew that I could afford them more easily and that the damn cookie wasn't good for me anyway. There's something about controlling your own property...
___________________________________________
When I was in Cabo last week, I was relaxing on the beach when I noticed the Tao yin-yang symbol on the side of a massage hut. Whenever I think of Taoism I think of the old story where they say, "Who knows what's good or bad?" because good things lead to bad things and vice versa.
__________________________________________
Today I got to class one minute late, and someone had written on the board, "If Teacher Ben arrives after 9:30, he has to pay $5!" I already had four dollars in my hand, prepared as a generous donation of my own accord, so I laughed very hard.
I have a rule in my class that if you're not there by 9:30 and want to get counted in attendance, you have to bribe the class a dollar. If you're over an hour late, it's $2. After two hours, you better have a doctor's note. I pocket the dollars and write the total on the board so we have full transparency, and then we spend it all when we have enough.
The last time I spent the money, we had about $25. One of my students, a Brazilian who works in the oil industry, had been insisting for weeks that I organize the class somehow and get them to hang out on his downtown apartment's rooftop for a barbecue. Brazilians love to barbecue. This guy was jacked, and made no secret about how much he loved to eat steak on a regular basis. When he finally revealed that it was his last week in class, I caved to his friendly wishes and organized a class field trip/pot luck dinner to his apartment's rooftop, where we barbecued and played games and spoke English as a basic requirement for the experience. I used the $25 to buy sausages, which went over well with the crowd.
When I arrived today, my phone said 9:29, but the class clock said 9:31, so I fished a few of the previous day's dollars from my pocket and added four more to the total, making it $55. By the end of class we had $61. Chung Fu!
On Monday we read about deforestation of the Amazon rainforest in Brazil. In the past 80 years, 20% of the rain forest has been cleared by cattle ranchers and land speculators. Interestingly, the worst offender of deforestation is a man named Maggi who has a soy bean empire. I'd been under the impression that eating tofu was theoretically saving the forest, but now I'm not so sure. Although Brazil is now the leading exporter of beef in the world, most of Brazil's beef is actually exported to Europe, not the US, because we have enough of our own. We ended the class with the students writing about the most important problems/issues facing the world.
This morning, even though I was late, I knew exactly what we were going to do. I was well prepared with course syllabus handouts, project handout's and the day's lesson plan. I'm always vaguely aware of what we'll do because of the continuity of text book material, but I also thrive on the spontaneity and never like to have too much planned. I think I've finally struck a decent balance.
Today we began by writing about charitable causes that we thought were deserving of donations. The top four were the Red Cross, World Hunger (mostly Africa), educating less fortunate children, and stopping child kidnapping and slavery (specifically in South America). Through anonymous votes we narrowed it down to World Hunger and educating less fortunate children, and after the final vote, educating less fortunate children won. Unfortunately, nobody knew of a specific charity that helps less fortunate children become educated. I contributed a dollar a day to Plan International (for five years... now, like many people, I donate to various charities that I research), and that's really only because the right canvasser jumped in front of me at the right time six years ago in NYC. I'd literally just gotten a raise at my first well-paying job. Now some girl in Burkina Faso is supposedly getting cleaner water and food or something. I'm supposed to write to her, but I don't, because it's strange. The only times I did, an older woman wrote back to me saying she was doing fine. I asked one of my friend's who got his masters in international aid and non-profit work, and he verified that they're an honest organization, so I feel better about it. Nothing special, just one less dollar a day that I spend on myself. One less beer a week. Still imperfect, still occupying space, still consuming the world to get by.
Anyway, we'll see what we come up with tomorrow. We're not going to fix any problems, just throw a little bit of our money at them, instead of spending it on sausages and steak for ourselves like the other time. I don't regret the other time. But it's better to mix it up.
After the voting we watched a video from the History Channel series The History of US. We learned about the settlers who starved when they first came to America, and how the tobacco industry and help from native Americans saved them. Then we learned how colonists got so damn mad about having part of their hard-earned money taken away by England that they decided to risk their lives and kill people over it. Then their descendants killed all of the Native Americans who had saved them and given us the inspiration for the "Thanksgiving" holiday celebrating appreciation for everything you're lucky to have. Now their descendants still complain about being taxed by the nation with the most affluent, wealthy and easy existence in human history.
__________________________________________
I talked about video games yesterday. Maybe life really is like a video game. The bad guys that get hurt are just pixels that can be recycled at any time, the good guys that get hurt are just to make the story better and they'll greet you safely at the end, and you should never really worry about getting hurt because there will always be extra lives and power-up items to help you through. All that bad stuff is just to make the game that much more worthwhile to play. Maybe.
So if life is only as real as the feelings you feel, why bother giving money to some distant person that might not even exist, or might as well not as far as your reality occurs? What's the difference between someone starving in Africa or some advanced alien starving millions of galaxies away? I don't know.
But I do know that at the end of class, one of my students gave me three cookies because she works at Mrs. Fields. I ate one of them happily, and then I gave the other two to this homeless guy who's always on the same corner handing out street sheets. You know how much effort that cost me? Zero. Do you know how much of a better person that makes me? Not at all. All my bad stuff is still in me. I'm still going to be selfish and indulge in the world's pleasures. I did just get back from vacation in Cabo.
So why bother? Well, because there is now less fat and sugar in my body, sucking my life away from me. A little is perfect for the body, but too much is no good.
And it's not just physical. As unimportant and simple and fleeting as that cookie transaction was today, something about me feels better knowing that I didn't need it, and it was so easy to let go, even though I was hungry at the time. I'm an American, so I wouldn't want anybody to take my stuff, but I also understand the freeing feeling of knowing that what matters most is what I am, not what I have. You only have things as tools to help you be more of you and have higher quality experiences that the world wants you to.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stress you or attack you.
Here.
Have a cookie.
64
"Enthusiasm meant a trance, or ecstasy--a connection with God. Enthusiasm is agape directed at a particular idea or a specific thing. We have all experienced it." -- The Pilgrimage, Paulo Coehlo
I love my cousins, Mike and Dan. They are my brothers without having the direct competition inherent in actually being my brothers. We are related by blood, but far enough away to admire each other as people. I love how Mike said that life is about "a curiosity toward and respect for everything." I love that Dan has a Japanese tattoo that means "continuous improvement." I think our grandfather Ted, would love both of those. I'm not sure how much the former state trooper and Marine would like us listening to and loving the Wu-Tang Clan together, but generational differences are bound to occur.
I think it was Christmas time 2008 when my cousin Dan and I went to the mall near his parents' home in New Jersey and Dan picked up a new copy of the Wu-Tang Clan's 8 Diagrams. One of my fellow Wu-Tang fan friends had told me it was quality, so I recommended it to Dan. The producer, RZA, said the title was derived from the I Ching's 64 oracular readings. Dan pumped it up on the stereo as we pulled out of the parking lot.
The first song, Campfire, opened with a sample from a Kung Fu movie:
______________________________________
My favorite thing to do when I was growing up was running around my family's backyard in suburban Long Island and using my imagination to the maximum. We owned 1/3 of an acre between neighbor's fences. We had a single driveway, a one story house, and a little green space with a few trees and a shed. I ran all over that thing for eleven years straight. My parents wouldn't let me own a real Nintendo, and your eyes can only take so much Game Boy, so I ran and ran and ran all over the yard. The few trees were a huge forest to me, and the jungle gym, lawn and whatever else was around me was whatever I wanted it to be.
Now I'm grown up and I live in a city, so there is no backyard. Then again, the entire world is my back yard. I finally know that I can go wherever I want to grow. There's this huge hill overlooking the whole city. I just got back from it, in fact. I love the city lights and the bridges and the boats in the bay. There aren't that many stars, but there are enough.
I just got back from seeing my cousins, Mike and Dan. They are two of the most enthusiastic people I know, and I've known them as long as we've been alive. Recently, I saw them in Mexico at Dan's wedding. The last time I had seen them was at Mike's wedding in Texas. This time, Mike's new wife remarked on how much I loved camping. That was funny, because the night before, while describing some of my recent camping experiences with Mike, he'd put it into context by pointing out that I didn't really love living outside all the time, and that the grand curve of my life involved civilizations with lots of people around. But I definitely do make the most of it when I want to. I thought about Lynne's comment for a while, and I remembered why I loved camping so much.
The first time I ever camped was in a little pup tent with my mom and sister in the backyard of our house, so I'm not sure if that really counts. All I remember is having a flashlight on in the tent at some point, and it being weird to be there when our house was right there.
But the first time I truly camped was with my cousins, Mike and Dan. They always lived somewhere far away, like western New York, or Montreal. The first time I lived away from home without my family for more than a week was with them in Montreal. Visiting them up there was also the first time I'd been to a foreign country. They always had a really nice two story house and all the modern Nintendo games and household appliances. They took vacations to cool places around the world, and generally seemed to love all of their opportunities. Every time I saw them they were either arguing to the death about something, usually a video game, or separately confessing ultimate enthusiasm toward something in the world and talking incredibly excitedly about it.
From age eleven to sixteen, Mike and Dan visited us at our new "farm" in upstate New York. They were used to moving around, and moved across the ocean to England a year after we'd moved to Cambridge. I was mad about that, because all of a sudden we were so much closer and it was easier to hang out more often, but after only a year they were going the furthest away yet. But it didn't matter, because they still came back for two weeks every summer to get their farm fix.
Right after I turned twelve years old the three of us walked the half mile through the corn fields, woods, hay bales and mowed trails up the hill to the enormous tree at the edge of my dad's newly acquired country property. There was a barbed wire fence on the other side of the tree marking our neighbor's territory. We slept in a tent, and in the morning Dan swore he saw a moose, even though he didn't have his glasses on and it was probably a deer, or a very large tree stump. Whatever, I believe him. He was very enthusiastic about it
Every year I saw them, they were excited about something new. Especially Dan. One year it was video games, and then one year he decided he was sick of being like his older brother and got a hair cut, contact lenses and a skateboard. The next year it was learning Japanese, which our Japanese friends Toshi and Kazumi, who were also staying with us, loved very much. The next year it was drums and Led Zeppelin. I'll never forget how excited he was to demonstrate the first three cymbals on "Communication Breakdown" and "Wanton Song". And to talk about how much they trashed their hotel rooms with motorcycles and being "badass". It was a great pep talk the day before I got my driver's license and my parents' coincidentally gave me Led Zeppelin's Greatest Hits for my 16th birthday. "Over the Hills and Far Away" reminds me of that summer. Soon he was also about playing guitar and getting as drunk as possible. We visited them in England that year, marking the first time I flew overseas on an airplane, visited the country with most of my family heritage, or went to a real foreign country besides Canada. He became a big ladies man when his family moved him to Minnesota for his senior year of high school. Coming from England made him extra exotic in their eyes. Mike was already at college at Clarkson to become a computer whiz. I visited them after my first year at college, and it was the first time I went on an airplane alone.
I remember when we were really young, I would always get this really lonely feeling after they would leave their two week visit. For two straight weeks I would have at least one of them to hang out with, whether it was video games, some outside activity, watching movies or just laughing like crazy about some great joke we'd just created. Dan and I were always creating games together. We once invented a game called "broom ball" where you basically played baseball with a broom, a volleyball, and a volleyball net, tagging people out kickball style. Mike was the computer genius who was always engrossed in some technical project like fixing my parents' computer or organizing some activity because he was the responsible older one. Then again, my sister was one year older than he was. She loved them just as much as I did, but there was something about the three boys being together and causing mischief whenever possible. Mike and Dan were always at each others throats, and I had to be the outside party peacemaker. After two weeks of that, I'd often find myself completely alone in the house for some reason. One time I just remember that my whole family left too, and I was alone on this farm with woods and fields, and I didn't know what to do, so I just tried to play adventure video games. But that didn't work without someone to play them with.
Years later I found myself far beyond video games and living at the farm. I had just moved to New York City to follow the dream of living life like an adventure with rewards beyond imagining. My first visitor was just a few days after I arrived. My cousin Dan showed up with ultimate enthusiasm for my grungy gritty railroad apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Even though we drank like crazy the first night, he still got up to go jogging and follow his strict nutritious diet regimen, his newest enthusiastic pursuit. Then we got on a train to Long Island to see Mike, Grandpa Ted, Grandma and the rest of the family.
Three years after that I slept on his couch in Hoboken, New Jersey for a week, having just moved out of my apartment after three years of living it in New York City. Dan had been working there for a year and spent most of it dating this one girl, Kelly, who lived in his building. He was really excited about everything he did. He was in sales now, so most of his talk was about that, but he was still open to new experiences. At the end of that week we drove to Long Island again, for Grandpa Ted's birthday, and then I drove home to upstate New York to prepare for a big journey. I'd just interviewed Grandpa Ted the week before, and he told me to get around as much as possible while I still could if I had the desire and I was still young and unattached. He knew what he was talking about. He hitchhiked along the eastern coast, fought in World War II, and rode horses in Mexico.
A few months after returning to the farm and readjusting to rural life after ultimate urban life, Dan and I went to the ultimate mixture at Bonnaroo Music Festival in Tennessee. It was definitely a shift from his normal world, just like the farm. He left me alone the third day because he had to get to work on Monday, and I told him it was okay and insisted after he felt bad. He had to leave me to go on my adventure. He and my friend left me with a tent, and I hitched a ride for the first time in my life, and later that year I went to India. I also got this great scar on my arm to remind me that all sorts of people have made me tough enough to deal with all this stuff. Seven months later I came home from a multinational journey, and I saw Mike and Dan at my sister's wedding at the farm. Later that year I camped out around America as much as possible on a Greyhound/hitchhiking journey through the south, from NYC to San Francisco. On the way I stopped in Austin, Texas, where Mike put me up in his house and kicked off my western camping festivities with me at the Canyon of the Eagles.
Over a year later I returned from a year in Japan, and found myself at Mike's wedding in Austin, Texas, where Dan gave a stellar best man speech. We all rode horses together. It was my first time. One night we all went out back in the field and had a smoke while meditating on our fearless leader, Grandpa Ted. He had died the year before while I was in Japan, on May 31st, 2011, the end of my first month there. I was wearing an army combat jacket and dancing on a train when he left the world. I'd just taught my first decent class with first and second graders.
Last week, after a year away from family on the road in America, moving from New York to San Francisco, I flew down to Mexico for Dan's wedding. Mike was the best man.
I had been camping around the country for months before starting in California, partially out of my personal thirst for experience, and partially as an ode to our departed grandfather, Ted.
Dan got married on May 31st, on the two-year anniversary of Grandpa Ted's leaving the world. I think he would have loved the fact that three of his grandsons were all together having a great time with family, old and new.
Now I'm back to my life in California. I am currently single, but Grandpa Ted told me to love it while I can, because someday, even though I'll love having a family, it will never be the same. He told me all of this at 17 Jackson Street, where he was born and I was brought home as a new human, the day before I moved out of my apartment in Queens after three years of learning how to be an adult in New York City. I moved onto my cousin Dan's couch for a night, and then drove out to celebrate Ted's 83rd birthday. He had two more left. I would make the last one.
Meanwhile, Dan was on his way in and I was on my way into somewhere different. Now he and Mike have great women to love and be loved by, and great lives to share with them.
For now, I have Grandpa Ted's highway trooper aviator glasses. I don't think I'd have earned them if Dan hadn't shown me the brilliance of Led Zeppelin or Mike hadn't shown me how to master Mario/Kart 64.
______________________________________________
_____________________________________________
Any time I begin a big project, I get a little intense about it and listen to "Striving For Perfection" performed by Raekwon and Ghostface of the Wu-Tang Clan. They're a little rougher than the Sanford-Thompsons, but I loved listening to them with Dan whenever he came to visit New York and get pumped about moving there, or getting a job, or me going on a journey, or whatever it was that was worth being enthusiastic about in this uncertain world. I remember sitting on the rooftop and looking at the New York City skyline and listening to that song:
I love my cousins, Mike and Dan. They are my brothers without having the direct competition inherent in actually being my brothers. We are related by blood, but far enough away to admire each other as people. I love how Mike said that life is about "a curiosity toward and respect for everything." I love that Dan has a Japanese tattoo that means "continuous improvement." I think our grandfather Ted, would love both of those. I'm not sure how much the former state trooper and Marine would like us listening to and loving the Wu-Tang Clan together, but generational differences are bound to occur.
I think it was Christmas time 2008 when my cousin Dan and I went to the mall near his parents' home in New Jersey and Dan picked up a new copy of the Wu-Tang Clan's 8 Diagrams. One of my fellow Wu-Tang fan friends had told me it was quality, so I recommended it to Dan. The producer, RZA, said the title was derived from the I Ching's 64 oracular readings. Dan pumped it up on the stereo as we pulled out of the parking lot.
The first song, Campfire, opened with a sample from a Kung Fu movie:
Today I'll talk about kindness
Justice, faith, kindness and courage
I want you to listen carefully
Kindness and faith, are the foundation
Without them, we can't become good people
And with justice, we know we can lead a good life
And how can I be a good man then, eh?
Huh... well, first of all, you have to practice honesty
Keep your temper, never lose control of yourself
Keep control
Be patient, if you learn to do these things,
you can master anything
Justice, faith, kindness and courage
I want you to listen carefully
Kindness and faith, are the foundation
Without them, we can't become good people
And with justice, we know we can lead a good life
And how can I be a good man then, eh?
Huh... well, first of all, you have to practice honesty
Keep your temper, never lose control of yourself
Keep control
Be patient, if you learn to do these things,
you can master anything
______________________________________
My favorite thing to do when I was growing up was running around my family's backyard in suburban Long Island and using my imagination to the maximum. We owned 1/3 of an acre between neighbor's fences. We had a single driveway, a one story house, and a little green space with a few trees and a shed. I ran all over that thing for eleven years straight. My parents wouldn't let me own a real Nintendo, and your eyes can only take so much Game Boy, so I ran and ran and ran all over the yard. The few trees were a huge forest to me, and the jungle gym, lawn and whatever else was around me was whatever I wanted it to be.
Now I'm grown up and I live in a city, so there is no backyard. Then again, the entire world is my back yard. I finally know that I can go wherever I want to grow. There's this huge hill overlooking the whole city. I just got back from it, in fact. I love the city lights and the bridges and the boats in the bay. There aren't that many stars, but there are enough.
I just got back from seeing my cousins, Mike and Dan. They are two of the most enthusiastic people I know, and I've known them as long as we've been alive. Recently, I saw them in Mexico at Dan's wedding. The last time I had seen them was at Mike's wedding in Texas. This time, Mike's new wife remarked on how much I loved camping. That was funny, because the night before, while describing some of my recent camping experiences with Mike, he'd put it into context by pointing out that I didn't really love living outside all the time, and that the grand curve of my life involved civilizations with lots of people around. But I definitely do make the most of it when I want to. I thought about Lynne's comment for a while, and I remembered why I loved camping so much.
The first time I ever camped was in a little pup tent with my mom and sister in the backyard of our house, so I'm not sure if that really counts. All I remember is having a flashlight on in the tent at some point, and it being weird to be there when our house was right there.
But the first time I truly camped was with my cousins, Mike and Dan. They always lived somewhere far away, like western New York, or Montreal. The first time I lived away from home without my family for more than a week was with them in Montreal. Visiting them up there was also the first time I'd been to a foreign country. They always had a really nice two story house and all the modern Nintendo games and household appliances. They took vacations to cool places around the world, and generally seemed to love all of their opportunities. Every time I saw them they were either arguing to the death about something, usually a video game, or separately confessing ultimate enthusiasm toward something in the world and talking incredibly excitedly about it.
From age eleven to sixteen, Mike and Dan visited us at our new "farm" in upstate New York. They were used to moving around, and moved across the ocean to England a year after we'd moved to Cambridge. I was mad about that, because all of a sudden we were so much closer and it was easier to hang out more often, but after only a year they were going the furthest away yet. But it didn't matter, because they still came back for two weeks every summer to get their farm fix.
Right after I turned twelve years old the three of us walked the half mile through the corn fields, woods, hay bales and mowed trails up the hill to the enormous tree at the edge of my dad's newly acquired country property. There was a barbed wire fence on the other side of the tree marking our neighbor's territory. We slept in a tent, and in the morning Dan swore he saw a moose, even though he didn't have his glasses on and it was probably a deer, or a very large tree stump. Whatever, I believe him. He was very enthusiastic about it
Those summers we
would go swimming, row in the boat, camp in the fields, and sometimes even take
trips up to the lake. I remember seeing
the South Park movie with them, and going to the mall, and listening to music,
and playing lots of video games. They
were usually around for my birthday, and once, when I was 13, they convinced me
not to spend my money on more Super Nintendo games and finally upgrade to
Nintendo 64. That’s how I got my hands
on Mario 64 and Mario Kart 64, and eventually Donkey Kong 64.
Mario
and Donkey Kong were complex adventure games that made you work on hand-eye
coordination, solve puzzles, persevere, and be playful while you did it. You traversed a diversity of worlds and
overcame challenges to seize the treasures in a world of imagination.
Mario
Kart 64 was about racing around and the rush of feeling free wherever you
wanted to be.
I soon
upgraded to the James Bond video game Goldeneye, the ultimate secret agent first person viewpoint game.
Like
many in my generation, I spent a lot of time on these games. But they were never as fun as when I played
with my cousins. Those times were about way more than video game screens though.
Every year I saw them, they were excited about something new. Especially Dan. One year it was video games, and then one year he decided he was sick of being like his older brother and got a hair cut, contact lenses and a skateboard. The next year it was learning Japanese, which our Japanese friends Toshi and Kazumi, who were also staying with us, loved very much. The next year it was drums and Led Zeppelin. I'll never forget how excited he was to demonstrate the first three cymbals on "Communication Breakdown" and "Wanton Song". And to talk about how much they trashed their hotel rooms with motorcycles and being "badass". It was a great pep talk the day before I got my driver's license and my parents' coincidentally gave me Led Zeppelin's Greatest Hits for my 16th birthday. "Over the Hills and Far Away" reminds me of that summer. Soon he was also about playing guitar and getting as drunk as possible. We visited them in England that year, marking the first time I flew overseas on an airplane, visited the country with most of my family heritage, or went to a real foreign country besides Canada. He became a big ladies man when his family moved him to Minnesota for his senior year of high school. Coming from England made him extra exotic in their eyes. Mike was already at college at Clarkson to become a computer whiz. I visited them after my first year at college, and it was the first time I went on an airplane alone.
I remember when we were really young, I would always get this really lonely feeling after they would leave their two week visit. For two straight weeks I would have at least one of them to hang out with, whether it was video games, some outside activity, watching movies or just laughing like crazy about some great joke we'd just created. Dan and I were always creating games together. We once invented a game called "broom ball" where you basically played baseball with a broom, a volleyball, and a volleyball net, tagging people out kickball style. Mike was the computer genius who was always engrossed in some technical project like fixing my parents' computer or organizing some activity because he was the responsible older one. Then again, my sister was one year older than he was. She loved them just as much as I did, but there was something about the three boys being together and causing mischief whenever possible. Mike and Dan were always at each others throats, and I had to be the outside party peacemaker. After two weeks of that, I'd often find myself completely alone in the house for some reason. One time I just remember that my whole family left too, and I was alone on this farm with woods and fields, and I didn't know what to do, so I just tried to play adventure video games. But that didn't work without someone to play them with.
Years later I found myself far beyond video games and living at the farm. I had just moved to New York City to follow the dream of living life like an adventure with rewards beyond imagining. My first visitor was just a few days after I arrived. My cousin Dan showed up with ultimate enthusiasm for my grungy gritty railroad apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Even though we drank like crazy the first night, he still got up to go jogging and follow his strict nutritious diet regimen, his newest enthusiastic pursuit. Then we got on a train to Long Island to see Mike, Grandpa Ted, Grandma and the rest of the family.
Three years after that I slept on his couch in Hoboken, New Jersey for a week, having just moved out of my apartment after three years of living it in New York City. Dan had been working there for a year and spent most of it dating this one girl, Kelly, who lived in his building. He was really excited about everything he did. He was in sales now, so most of his talk was about that, but he was still open to new experiences. At the end of that week we drove to Long Island again, for Grandpa Ted's birthday, and then I drove home to upstate New York to prepare for a big journey. I'd just interviewed Grandpa Ted the week before, and he told me to get around as much as possible while I still could if I had the desire and I was still young and unattached. He knew what he was talking about. He hitchhiked along the eastern coast, fought in World War II, and rode horses in Mexico.
A few months after returning to the farm and readjusting to rural life after ultimate urban life, Dan and I went to the ultimate mixture at Bonnaroo Music Festival in Tennessee. It was definitely a shift from his normal world, just like the farm. He left me alone the third day because he had to get to work on Monday, and I told him it was okay and insisted after he felt bad. He had to leave me to go on my adventure. He and my friend left me with a tent, and I hitched a ride for the first time in my life, and later that year I went to India. I also got this great scar on my arm to remind me that all sorts of people have made me tough enough to deal with all this stuff. Seven months later I came home from a multinational journey, and I saw Mike and Dan at my sister's wedding at the farm. Later that year I camped out around America as much as possible on a Greyhound/hitchhiking journey through the south, from NYC to San Francisco. On the way I stopped in Austin, Texas, where Mike put me up in his house and kicked off my western camping festivities with me at the Canyon of the Eagles.
Over a year later I returned from a year in Japan, and found myself at Mike's wedding in Austin, Texas, where Dan gave a stellar best man speech. We all rode horses together. It was my first time. One night we all went out back in the field and had a smoke while meditating on our fearless leader, Grandpa Ted. He had died the year before while I was in Japan, on May 31st, 2011, the end of my first month there. I was wearing an army combat jacket and dancing on a train when he left the world. I'd just taught my first decent class with first and second graders.
Last week, after a year away from family on the road in America, moving from New York to San Francisco, I flew down to Mexico for Dan's wedding. Mike was the best man.
I had been camping around the country for months before starting in California, partially out of my personal thirst for experience, and partially as an ode to our departed grandfather, Ted.
Dan got married on May 31st, on the two-year anniversary of Grandpa Ted's leaving the world. I think he would have loved the fact that three of his grandsons were all together having a great time with family, old and new.
Now I'm back to my life in California. I am currently single, but Grandpa Ted told me to love it while I can, because someday, even though I'll love having a family, it will never be the same. He told me all of this at 17 Jackson Street, where he was born and I was brought home as a new human, the day before I moved out of my apartment in Queens after three years of learning how to be an adult in New York City. I moved onto my cousin Dan's couch for a night, and then drove out to celebrate Ted's 83rd birthday. He had two more left. I would make the last one.
Meanwhile, Dan was on his way in and I was on my way into somewhere different. Now he and Mike have great women to love and be loved by, and great lives to share with them.
For now, I have Grandpa Ted's highway trooper aviator glasses. I don't think I'd have earned them if Dan hadn't shown me the brilliance of Led Zeppelin or Mike hadn't shown me how to master Mario/Kart 64.
______________________________________________
My favorite camping memory of all time was when we were starting to grow up and think of ourselves as
tough men. We were barely teenagers, but we were brave. We went camping on the hill, even though the coyotes cackled hysterically every time. We were used to it. We weren't used to the sounds we heard this time though. Sometime after midnight we heard a loud
snorting, and then a large crack, and heavy footsteps, and a loud huffing, and
fearsome snorting, and it kept getting closer… and closer… and closer…
After twenty minutes of quiet whispered terrified debate and planning ("I TOLD you I saw a moose, you ***holes!" "You didn't see a moose, you ****head!" "I did and there's one out there right now!" "Maybe there is, but there wasn't before!" "Guys, stop yelling, it's getting closer!"), we made a run for it the quarter mile to the house, across the fields, down the hill, through the woods and to my parents’ safe home. My biologist dad later explained to us that it was probably a buck deer that felt threatened by our presence.
After twenty minutes of quiet whispered terrified debate and planning ("I TOLD you I saw a moose, you ***holes!" "You didn't see a moose, you ****head!" "I did and there's one out there right now!" "Maybe there is, but there wasn't before!" "Guys, stop yelling, it's getting closer!"), we made a run for it the quarter mile to the house, across the fields, down the hill, through the woods and to my parents’ safe home. My biologist dad later explained to us that it was probably a buck deer that felt threatened by our presence.
I'll never forget the thrill of running through the dark forest with my cousins, away from some beast that would have done who knows what to us if we hadn't taken action. It turns out it was just our imaginations, but it felt realer than anything we'd simulated on a TV screen together.
_____________________________________________
Any time I begin a big project, I get a little intense about it and listen to "Striving For Perfection" performed by Raekwon and Ghostface of the Wu-Tang Clan. They're a little rougher than the Sanford-Thompsons, but I loved listening to them with Dan whenever he came to visit New York and get pumped about moving there, or getting a job, or me going on a journey, or whatever it was that was worth being enthusiastic about in this uncertain world. I remember sitting on the rooftop and looking at the New York City skyline and listening to that song:
"S'up cousin, how you doin'?
"As long as the love and the trust is there
We gonna grow, God, we gonna grow like a plant, son.
We gonna grow, God, we gonna grow like a plant, son.
We gotta move God, we gotta move God, we gotta migrate.
Yo God, my baby's in here God, see I gotta take time man
And raise my family man
Ya know what I'm sayin? Sit around man, my grand kids man
But yo Son, it's like this man
We all living man, we here now man
Let's not think like we going to be stagnating, man
Let's keep moving ahead man, keep our head up man
Take care of our families man
God, word is bond, I'm the eyes that's in back of you, kid
Let's do it then."
And raise my family man
Ya know what I'm sayin? Sit around man, my grand kids man
But yo Son, it's like this man
We all living man, we here now man
Let's not think like we going to be stagnating, man
Let's keep moving ahead man, keep our head up man
Take care of our families man
God, word is bond, I'm the eyes that's in back of you, kid
Let's do it then."
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Movin'
About a week ago I was totally stressed out, wiped out and desperately in need of a vacation. I knew that overall my life was fine, but sometimes all the physical and mental issues get jumbled together at once and you wonder how you're going to find the strength and state of mind to sort it all out again. My love, my art, my living situation, my financial situation... everything appeared to be a ridiculous uphill battle, especially in a place like San Francisco. In fact, that part was getting to me the most. Despite all of my hiking last summer, I'm pretty sick of walking up this mountain every time I want to do anything. It's really drawing a lot of my energy that could be used on better things.
After a long walk I got back to the kitchen and found a letter from my college loans saying they had changed my minimum payment, which doesn't fix my debt, but does make it easier to breathe for now. Then I talked to one of my favorite people in the world, my friend Brad, for the first time in months. Then I packed my suitcase to go see my cousins in Mexico for a much-needed vacation from my life here. Work is fine, but everything else was getting to me. I was listening to a lot of "Stressed Out" by A Tribe Called Quest, "Venice Queen" by Red Hot Chili Peppers and "Long as I Can See the Light" by CCR. And "Rainy Night House" to remind me why I was in the situation I was in...
As soon as I arrived at the ocean, I wondered why I was ever stressed out at all before. This has been here the whole time. I've visited before, but I didn't feel as much before. But after a week with family and people and not worrying about anything, excited to start a new chapter upon my return to America, life began raging everywhere. It's the ocean... it's everything... wave upon wave of life flowing in front of me, to me, with me.
Monday, June 3, 2013
"Way down here, you need a reason to move..."
When I completed my American journey to the top of Pyramid Peak in Washington, I came down from the mountain and camped amongst people in the campgrounds. A wise man told me that the real secret to life is finding out how to bring the magic back down from the mountain.
Today I just got back from the most relaxing and fun vacation I've had in a long time. I think that's why it was a vacation. I'm really happy that I got to spend so much excellent time with my family, especially my cousins, in such a spectacular setting. The ocean, the sand, the pool, the hot tub, the stars, the moon, the familiar faces, the new people, the comfortable bed, that weird guy on the TV who kept saying that "it is not what is written on the page that matters, but what is written in the heart" and then "the whales do not sing because they have an answer, but because they have a song".
When he saw his bride approaching, my cousin Dan teared up in front of me for the first time since we were kids. Life has been great ever since they got married. Meals with many different family members and their friends, naps whenever I want, and the sound of the ocean whenever I want. I also went swimming in the ocean for the first time in almost two years. I can't begin to describe how great that was. Best of all, I remembered the thrill of dodging flashlights when you're having a great time after hours in a place they don't want you to be, like the hot tub at 3 in the morning. And then talking them into letting us stay.
I got home a few hours ago. The freeway is still here. Maybe it won't be a month from now. I'm going to decide tomorrow. I did a lot of great thinking and got a lot of universally good advice down in Mexico.
I'll write more about it all tomorrow. After class...
Hopefully I'll be able to bring the magic back from the ocean.
Today I just got back from the most relaxing and fun vacation I've had in a long time. I think that's why it was a vacation. I'm really happy that I got to spend so much excellent time with my family, especially my cousins, in such a spectacular setting. The ocean, the sand, the pool, the hot tub, the stars, the moon, the familiar faces, the new people, the comfortable bed, that weird guy on the TV who kept saying that "it is not what is written on the page that matters, but what is written in the heart" and then "the whales do not sing because they have an answer, but because they have a song".
When he saw his bride approaching, my cousin Dan teared up in front of me for the first time since we were kids. Life has been great ever since they got married. Meals with many different family members and their friends, naps whenever I want, and the sound of the ocean whenever I want. I also went swimming in the ocean for the first time in almost two years. I can't begin to describe how great that was. Best of all, I remembered the thrill of dodging flashlights when you're having a great time after hours in a place they don't want you to be, like the hot tub at 3 in the morning. And then talking them into letting us stay.
I got home a few hours ago. The freeway is still here. Maybe it won't be a month from now. I'm going to decide tomorrow. I did a lot of great thinking and got a lot of universally good advice down in Mexico.
I'll write more about it all tomorrow. After class...
Hopefully I'll be able to bring the magic back from the ocean.
Saturday, June 1, 2013
61
It's 6/1 today.
Chung Fu is #61 in the I Ching.
Inner Truth.
Let it out, let it in, there's nothing to hide.
"Perseverance furthers"
"Crossing the great waters brings good fortune"
"Wind on the water"
This experience in Mexico has been completely different from the last time I came here.
I love it. The stars, the moon, the waves on the beach, my cousins, my family, their friends, new friends...
Life is good
Chung Fu is #61 in the I Ching.
Inner Truth.
Let it out, let it in, there's nothing to hide.
"Perseverance furthers"
"Crossing the great waters brings good fortune"
"Wind on the water"
This experience in Mexico has been completely different from the last time I came here.
I love it. The stars, the moon, the waves on the beach, my cousins, my family, their friends, new friends...
Life is good
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