Get on your knees, you're free

Still Life With Motion

The Sun burst open. it was 6:00 am

nature held itself in a limbo of grace

earthly objects took on an otherworldly sort of poise. 

the boughs curved to protect their sky. The skies curved in turn, to protect the boughs that framed them

the colors of the city had names all their own. mauve became towers, shadow became faun, sky became parades, grass became known, and trees became shift and switch and suede. tiny playthings of homes swooned to the harmony of their own artificial being  

the sun shone as if through a prism. But it was only eyes, bloodshot corona, white light showing itself for what it was

fractioned white, the sun's crown. the blades beam under the beams with pride

the light had already begun to change. the little people lived their little lives. the blades twitched, the microscopic ornaments churned the earth so we could marvel and stir at the way the green stands in dirt like a moving ocean. the cosmos played its part in our game of what we choose to see

human beings basked in the luxuriousness of their own confusion

"A little poison now and then: that makes for agreeable dreams. And much poison in the end, for agreeable death. " - Nietzsche

the city stood proud of itself. nature lent its hand, and the city gave it back. at least as far as the eye and the lens are concerned

even darkness when it fractured the light had something to say, in its own way, it greeted the day as the day turned dusk and the golds yellowed and the greens greyed. The dark did not swallow the day, it is summer after all, even in San Francisco, and the strange musings of the night do not rob the day of its light, but lend a hand to its preternaturalness, in which we so take part and joy

monuments, pictures seen again and again, somehow shown in a different light. because the light was different, and even those stupid famous houses shined

 attempting to affect the dimension of things, to reach in and screw the ontological bolts and buttons of the scales amount to no more than semblance, and seemed to have no effect but to increase the sublimity.

"He's a survival artist, an expert in disguise and deception. He commanded his own agents and organized and carried out his own operations." 

and then for a time, the sublime reigned, and the pieces rested where they knew they fit best, where they knew they would never be quite so well again. dance of sunbeams, transportation of words combined, blue moon in a bottle with smattering of red gone leathered and green gone gold. light unbounded except by what makes it more creative. identity unrestrained

 —

Disposable Kodak Beauty

Treasures from a water damaged disposable camera

 

 

 

 

Unappreciative

i am

Garden of Eden By Light of Night

Raw frankincense, honey whiskey in a jar, Rammstein - Sehnsucht, and The Girl Who Played With Fire.

This is a place I very often seek. It is a necessity, but these days it is a luxury. It's a trancelike state that requires stimulation of every one of the five senses in order to activate others. Once those five are in place, others open, emotional consciousness expands, luxuriates in its own being in a way it has no space, no safety to otherwise.

The right feeling of self in skin, muscles, and bones - usually requiring having been worked hard in the last day at most. Incense, always. The frankincense is particularly transporting. It was a gift from my mom. It requires also beautiful surroundings, unusual lights, lit candles, altar trinkets, and the dark of night or hard rain or snow, or better yet - a storm. Some strong spirits for the palate. The right music for the mood. And of course, the element without which all this is impossible - lack of interruption (really solitude, but is possible with an understanding partner). When all that is in place, I am transported to that inner sanctum. And that is the only place where true peace exists.

It usually looks something like this:

Garden of Eden

Stayed in all day. Rolled around on soft white sheets in drifting sunlight and pink icicle lights. Metric lullaby in the background.

Tugged by softness at the edge of something sweet, that thing that gives you that feeling of just having cried, of release of relief. The city is bright today, assertion of freedom and pride in the air. And we burned incense and ate first meal of the day at 3:00pm toast with truffled goat cheese, sautéed beet greens marinated in pickling spice, butter, fried egg, sherry vinaigrette tossed arugula, spiced garlic confit, thick-sliced homemade bacon, with sparkling wine.

A tempestuous darkness has made a habit out of descending upon me at night. Punches, hard steps long strides makeup dark destroying beats and sounds. So mornings are my haven, even if they begin in the afternoon.

P.S. Constantly updated my Working List of Most Beautiful Albums. Just added Rammstein's Sehnsucht.

Found Beauty

• Discard an axiom
• Tape your mouth
• Trust in the you of now
• Honor thy error as a hidden intention / Your mistake was a hidden intention
• Make a blank valuable by putting it in an exquisite frame
• You can only make one dot at a time
• Look at a very small object, Look at its center
• Tidy up
• What mistakes did you make last time
• Cascades
• Assemble some of the instruments in a group and treat the group
• Get your neck massaged
• Into the impossible
• Bridges –build –burn

Philosophy is Dangerous for Twelve Step

A bit of reflection upon reading The Fallacy of the ‘Hijacked Brain’ - the NY Times' Philosophy column.

The paradox of x anonymous meetings (A.A.; N.A.) turns around the fact that part of the treatment has as its essence the requirement that the addict seeking help understand that fundamentally, they have been overtaken by the disease of addiction, and have been powerless; the first step in the twelve being admission of this powerlessness. But this is useless for healing addiction without the accompanying requirement: "Choose differently." There is a different way to live your life; make that choice, work the steps, rid yourself of the vestiges of your life in addition (very much in line with Sartre's view of free will here). Hence the paradox. But not just any paradox - the pragmatist in me is stirred: it's a paradox that works. In what sense can we say that it 'works'? What kind of effect in the world does this logical inconsistency have? It helps people free themselves of drug-saturated existence, and in many cases, saves their lives.

Explicit connections between Philosophy and twelve step have made themselves evident in more ways than one over the course of my studies, one that I am surprised more people don't know about is the tremendous influence - in terms of philosophy and ideas - of William James on the founder of Alcoholics Anonymous, Bill W. 

In any philosophical writings that begin to weave their way into the realm of spirituality (Pierre Hadot, for instance), one will easily find commonalities with twelve step ideology. 

The problem for me has always been that it seems mutually exclusive to subscribe 100% to the twelve step model and at the same time maintain a completely intellectually open-mind. Imagine that the article above had been a report on the recent neurological/psychological data that debunked the deterministic, 'disease' model of addition, and imagine it were true. The twelve stepper who has experienced success and life-improvement and most importantly, freedom from addition in x anonymous programs would then have a choice: accept the data, and have their entire system of thought be proven untrue, and admit that the one thing that improves the situation for them as far as addiction is concerned requires deluding him/herself - OR they can deny the data, pretend it isn't true, decline to accept it, and keep on living the life of the program. This was my dilemma in any case. Philosophy is a dangerous subject for a recovering/recovered drug addict who has found success in 12 step programs. 

Calm dreams roll out of crashing waves

A relatively traumatic (self-imposed trauma) end to a beautiful weekend last night strangely enough had me dreaming some of the calmest dream-thoughts I have ever had: sitting at a white iron table sipping tea with lemon out of a glass with ice, in a tea house with doors open letting in mid day sunlight and breeze blowing translucent white curtains, flowers and delicateness, discussing the wonders of owning an eccentricities shop, somewhere in the Mediterranean.  I keep thinking that if I Google images of tea shops I'll find it.

Thoughts on Jarvis Masters' Writings From Death Row

"I watched Jack Marbol, dressed only in his undershorts, as he struggled to walk. Then he collapsed on the tier, in front of my cell. He fell to his knees, retching. His white body and face were charred black, like those of a coal miner trapped in a mine shaft. The whole tier began laughing up a storm, and some said they wished Jack Marbol would die right there on the spot.
I stared into his eyes, and saw a person's heart on fire. No matter how the others laughed or what they wished for, I vowed that as one nut in this very large fruitcake I would never be cracked. I prayed that ol' Jack Marbol, a prisoner like myself, would be OK."

From Jarvis Jay Masters' Finding Freedom: Writings From Death Row

Reading stories like this is like hearing stories from the front lines of some excruciating battle. Where human beings meet the struggle for survival, where instinct, where feeling take over, humans, it seems, are far better than what we have created for ourselves in the middle to upper class Western world. Very little appreciation for the most basic things like life, health, family, love. Authenticity lost.

Somewhere In Between

Somewhere in between nostalgic sun-drenched photographs of glittering and beautiful destroyed girls and researching work in social welfare, with neuroscience on the mind, I am trying to find a home in the world.

Vows

Wedding celebration May 26th. These are my vows:

I was never going to get married. There is no one person I had met in my adult life that would make my world bigger instead of smaller. No one who would, or could grow with me, challenge me more than I could challenge myself. My source of growth and change always came from within me. Except when it came to you.

11 years ago, right around this time, we broke each others’ hearts.

That created a void I gave up trying to fill. And a little while after my surrender, guess who came back into my life?

We didn’t know it, but we were waiting for each other.

And I’m so grateful we have had the last 11 years apart to live, to learn, to make mistakes and come to each other now having learned one or two important lessons.

Now we’re ready to make some more, learn new lessons, to grow together, and take care of each other in the process.

I, like you, Jonathan, crave challenge.

Challenging each other, we’ve already proven well we can do. And I don’t expect anything less from either of us.

That the world will present us with challenges to face, is a certainty.

To reconcile, to communicate, to always remain open to one another in the face of these, is a harder task.

We’ve proven unfailingly, that we can do that, too…

And I promise to continue.

To always see you through to other side of a challenge, no matter how great or small

Because you and I together makes that possible

That feeling of limitless possibility with you scares the crap out of me sometimes.

It’s a paradox to feel that you, Jonathan, deserve more than any human could ever give, yet you’ve chosen me to give it to you.

I am marrying you, Jonathan, for who you are today, and who I know you will be,

For what you see in me today, and who I will, with your help become.

Because you reinforce and help me see what’s best in me

And I have not a single doubt that you will do this as long as we are in each other’s lives.

So I can do no less but to promise to do the same for you.

And I do.

Your love and commitment, and the support of our family and friends, are the most precious gifts we could ever receive in this life.

For years after we parted ways 11 years ago, I had always looked back and remembered how strong our love was, thinking that it was just naivety, the folly of youth, that made me think I had really understood love.

I never felt anything like that since then, until we found each other again.

And I know now that I did understand it.

I understood it because you were the one then, as you have always been

Thank you for reminding me, after 11 years, what love really is. Thank you for always keeping me warm, thank you taking care of my heart, and giving me yours to do the same.

Jonathan, I love you.