Compassion and Disappointment

It is difficult to feel loving-kindness when one's feelings are hurt. My newest metta bhavana is focused on cultivating thoughts of loving-kindness towards people who have hurt my feelings in some way. I am thinking of children who bullied me in grade school, friends who didn't stick up for me when I needed it, and people who've left me in the lurch.

I was recently given an unpleasant explanation for the disappearance of an important person from my life; someone I just met implied that one of my teachers was guilty of professional misconduct and lost their job because of it. If this is true it causes me sorrow, because it means that my teacher made a decision that hurt a lot of people. I feel sadness for my teacher, and I feel sadness for all the people who were affected by whatever the bad decision was.

On the one hand I want to tell my teacher, "I feel that you were selfish to put your need to do whatever you did that was wrong above the needs of all your students who relied on you." On the other hand, I want to say, "You must have felt what you were doing was right, and the consequences were worth it." What I want to say most, though, is, "Whatever you may have done that was wrong, it doesn't negate the work we did together, and it doesn't negate the importance of the lessons I learned from you. You continue to be one of my most important teachers; that does not and cannot change. I only wish I could have continued to learn from you; I feel you had much more left to teach me, and I still had a lot more to learn from you."

How do I send metta to someone who is guilty of wrongdoing? Praying* that all sentient beings be free from suffering does not mean that criminals are not guilty of their crimes, and by praying for them I am not condoning their actions. Rather, I am praying for them in spite of their actions—or more accurately, regardless of their actions. When I perform metta bhavana, I am praying that all sentient beings be safe from harm, live with ease, and enjoy peace. There is no addendum to qualify that only "good" people receive my prayers. I am sending metta to all sentient beings: sharks, doctors, eagles, rapists—who or what they are and whether they spend their lives and actions in a way I approve is immaterial.

Whether or not my teacher is actually guilty of wrongdoing is something I doubt I will ever know. My disappointment, my sense of loss is not changed in any way by the taint of guilt. But the most important new lesson from this situation is that my metta bhavana does not change. Guilty or innocent, my teacher deserves the same loving-kindness as always. And see, that's a new lesson learned! Thank you, teacher.


*Prayer in this article does not refer to supplication to a deity for granting of a boon; it refers to a meditation practice in which I am cultivating compassion for others. In other words, instead of asking a God to do something kind for me, I am generating kind thoughts within myself and sending them outward.
Both require an inner focus, and prayer is the word I grew up with, so I use it.

new music blog

Check out Puss In (Punk) Boots, where I talk more about music and less about spirituality (although there's a whole lot of intertwining going on, especially because I've been thinking and talking a lot about MCA lately).

Much earlier today I had a song in my head, specifically this one:

It's called "Easy to be Hard," from the musical Hair by Jerome Ragni and James Rado. The video is from the film version of the musical.

Why post it here instead of on my music page? I think it's because the wistful quality is appropriate for some of the ups and downs I've been experiencing lately. This is the song that soundtracked my thoughts earlier.


Later on, I had a much different song playing in my head. It's called "Pay To Cum," by DC hardcore band Bad Brains. The lyrics are impossible to understand because the song's so fast, but they are:

I make decision with precision
Lost inside this manned collision
Just to see that what is to be
Perfectly my fantasy

I came to know with now dismay
That in this world we all must pay
Pay to write, pay to play
Pay to cum, pay to fight 

And all in time,
With just our minds
We soon will find
What's left behind 

Not long ago when things were slow
We all got by with what we know
The end is near. Hearts filled with fear
Don't want to listen to what they hear 

And so it's now we choose to fight
To stick up for our bloody right
The right to sing, the right to dance
The right is ours... We'll take the chance 

A peace together
A piece apart
A piece of wisdom
From our hearts

East Coast versus West Coast Dharma Punks

Several months ago I read Dharma Punx by Noah Levine. I was struck by the differences between the East Coast and West Coast experience. As a member of the NYC punk/hardcore scene, I felt familiarity with a lot of things he said about the music and the community of the scene, but there was a lot I couldn't relate to because it was so far removed from how things were on this side of the continent. The emotions, the violence and crime, the drugs, the solidarity and support systems: I was surprised at how many differences there were.

Once again I have a reason to miss MCA; Adam Yauch would have been someone who could have so eloquently and with such depth of understanding explained the similarities and differences between Levine's experiences and ours. He was a member of the same NYC punk/hardcore scene as me, and he became very well-known not only for his music but for his Buddhism, especially his right livelihood with the Milarepa Fund and the Tibet Freedom Concert series.

I would love to know if Adam ever wrote a review of Dharma Punx, or even if he made mention of it sometime. I wish I could hear his opinion, discuss it with him, learn his thoughts about not just the book but his experience as a counterpoint to Levine's.

Sigh.

"What's the use of this?"

I started a new blog called What's The Use? whatstheuseofthis@blogspot.com for all the whinging and whining, so I can keep this one focused on lighter subjects. Guess I'll be over there from now on until the black cloud lifts.

Sunshine

I hate the way the suns twinkles at me through the blinds, taunting and teasing and torturing, letting me know exactly how lovely it is outside; and here I am inside playing Bejeweled with the music on, the same tinkling tune over and over again, and a deep voice telling me "Good!" when I blow up the shiny colors.

Still Feeling Bad About Adam Yauch, But Worse

I wish some stories weren't so quickly replaced online by the next new thing.

I wasn't interested in fighting with people over the definitions of sex and gender that were brought on by a news story about a transgendered musician who gave an interview to Rolling Stone about nir plans to transition.

I wasn't interested in the furor and subsequent—what word could express the most vicious hatred mixed with PCBs, acid rain, global warming, ricin poisoning, and stupidity?—unfriendly comments after the news that President Obama is now apparently in favor of gay marriage.

I was interested in reading more kind thoughts about the death of a beautiful human being. Unfortunately, I read unkind comments. Now I will have to do a Metta mediation for everyone who spews vitriol online.

Love, Eros, Sex, and Compassion

Many years ago I read the transcript of a lecture called "Love, Eros, and Sex." In it, the lecturer discussed the differences between the three feelings or states of being and gave definitions for the words. For her purposes, the word "eros" described the heady, charged feeling of infatuation, the physiological and emotional chemistry a person feels when she develops a crush, or he discovers feelings of arousal towards a person. This was distinguished from sex, as the emotion of eros wasn't necessarily accompanied by actual physical contact. Love was a third form of intimacy entirely, and as I recall it was defined as the combination of trust and comfort and a deep bond of friendship, although it wasn't divorced from attraction or sexual feeling.

I've been thinking about this recently in terms of my own personal definitions of relationship words like love, and how they work within and outside of my definitions of lovingkindness or compassion.

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The editor interrupts this blog entry for a late-breaking METTA news story:

See the difference in the two people's sizes? This escalator is STEEP!

This past Thursday afternoon Two or three Thursdays ago, on my way home from Rego Park, I was on the subway platform about to get on the up escalator when I noticed a woman at the top of the down escalator looking petrified. She was standing at the very beginning of the moving stair, and it seemed she was unable to step onto it. To my delight a couple of other passengers had noticed her and were trying to encourage her, but they couldn't stick around to help because they had to go catch their buses. Fortunately, by that time I had gotten to the top of the escalator, and I went over to her. She was a small and fragile-looking middle-aged woman, and although she was trying to contain her panic she was in obvious distress. I stood next to her and told her we'd do it together, and that when I counted to three we'd put a foot on the stair. I wrapped one arm around her waist and held onto her hand with the other, and on three we successfully made it onto the stair without mishap or even a wobble. Score! Ten for execution, a terrific success.

But the story's not over; I haven't even gotten to the important part yet.

As soon as I let go of her after we'd stepped onto the train platform, I had the hugest grin on my face. Not because she expressed gratitude, which she did, but because helping this woman gave me such a high. She REALLY needed someone to help her, and I was almost glad that the other thoughtful people didn't go the extra mile because it meant I could have the joy of easing her suffering. I was the lucky one who got to help her through her fear at the top, and I got to see her relief and her smiles when we got to the bottom. I couldn't see her pain and not want to relieve it. I HAD to help her; there were no two ways about it.


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And now back to our regularly scheduled blog entry:
So how does this experience have any correlation with love, eros, or sex? Believe me when I tell you I felt love for the woman at the top of the escalator. The clichéd expression "my heart went out to her" accurately describes how I felt. I was drawn to her, with an overwhelming need to comfort her and ease her pain. I associate that feeling—of caring deeply for another being and wanting in some way to protect, shelter, or comfort—with the idea of love, and believe it is an intrinsic part of that experience.

When I think of the emotion that feels essentially the same whether it's felt towards an animal, a child, or a lover, I call that feeling love. It's a soft feeling, a feeling of appreciation, a feeling of joy, of sweetness, and of warmth. It's that indefinable sensation of magic when watching an animal or person sleeping; you're witnessing their unconscious breaths, and you can feel how precious, fascinating, and vulnerable they are, and you are torn between leaving them to rest and staying to keep vigil over them. It's unfortunate that one of the synonyms I keep getting for this intense felling of caring is "maternal," because this emotion is of course without gender or age (I've seen very young toddlers express this emotion toward turtles, caterpillars, and other larger creatures as well).

Chest Pain

It hurts, it's been hurting for a while, and although the pain went away for a few days, it's back.

Pretty soon I'm gonna start quoting Shakespeare. Uh oh, it's happening--can't--stop---

I beseech you, punish me not with your hard
thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty to deny
so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your
fair eyes, and gentle wishes go with me to my trial;
wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was
never gracious; if killed, but one dead that was willing to
be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to
lament me, the world no injury, for in it I have nothing;
only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better
supplied when I have made it empty.
                                        As You Like It (1.2.346-55)

No, I'm not suicidal, so shut up. This was an important quote for me for many years; I know that feeling. He was feeling sorry for himself, but he had plenty of good reasons.

I'm gonna go have some hot and sour soup that doesn't have enough vinegar or sesame oil in it.

Compassion and Losing Important Influences

I was already feeling kicked in the chest (more on that in another post) when yesterday's news, of the death of Adam Yauch of the Beastie Boys, really knocked the wind out of me.

Adam was, with the other Beastie Boys, part of the atmosphere I lived in during my high school/college years in NYC. We didn't go to the same school or live in the same neighborhood, but we had friends in common (yeah, David Sparks) and went to a lot of the same punk/hardcore shows. We also shared some other journeys in common, including interests in activism and  meditative practices. Adam became one of the vanguard of musicians who openly discussed their personal spiritual beliefs both musically and in their other work, founding the Milarepa Fund and putting on concerts to raise money and awareness for Tibetan independence. He was a musical, social, and spiritual influence for me and a lot of my peers.

Below is a Beasties Boys song lyric coauthored by Yauch:

Lyrics to "Boddhisatva Vow," reprinted from LyricsDepot:

As I Develop The Awakening Mind I Praise The Buddha As They Shine
I Bow Before You As I Travel My Path To Join Your Ranks,
I Make My Full Time Task
For The Sake Of All Beings I Seek
The Enlighted Mind That I Know I'll Reap
Respect To Shantideva And All The Others
Who Brought Down The Darma For Sisters And Brothers
I Give Thanks For This World As A Place To Learn
And For This Human Body That I'm Glad To Have Earned
And My Deepest Thanks To All Sentient Beings
For Without Them There Would Be No Place To Learn What I'm Seeing
There's Nothing Here That's Not Been Said Before
But I Put It Down Now So I'll Be Sure
To Solidify My Own Views And I'll Be Glad If It Helps
Anyone Else Out Too
If Others Disrespect Me Or Give Me Flack
I'll Stop And Think Before I React =
Knowing That They're Going Through Insecure Stages
I'll Take The Opportunity To Exercise Patience
I'll See It As A Chance To Help The Other Person
Nip It In The Bud Before It Can Worsen
A Change For Me To Be Strong And Sure
As I Think On The Buddhas Who Have Come Before
As I Praise And Respect The Good They've Done
Knowing Only Love Can Conquer In Every Situation
We Need Other People In Order To Create
The Circumstances For The Learning That We're Here To Generate
Situations That Bring Up Our Deepest Fears
So We Can Work To Release Them Until They're Cleared
Therefore, It Only Makes Sense
To Thank Our Enemies Despite Their Intent
The Bodhisattva Path Is One Of Power And Strength
A Strength From Within To Go The Length
Seeing Others Are As Important As Myself
I Strive For A Happiness Of Mental Wealth
With The Interconnectedness That We Share As One
Every Action That We Take Affects Everyone
So In Deciding For What A Situation Calls
There Is A Path For The Good For All
I Try To Make My Every Action For That Highest Good
With The Altruistic Wish To Achive Buddhahood
So I Pledge Here Before Everyone Who's Listening
To Try To Make My Every Action For The Good Of All Beings
For The Rest Of My Lifetimes And Even Beyond
I Vow To Do My Best To Do No Harm
And In Times Of Doubt I Can Think On The Dharma
And The Enlightened Ones Who've Graduated Samsara 

How I Am Like A Lawn

I spent the weekend in the country recently, and as always happens when I change scenery, I got some new perspectives.

It has to do with lawns. (For the strictly city-folk among you, lawns are expanses of ground covered with grass and the occasional shrub for use as status symbols, areas upon which to play touch football, dining areas for summer barbecues, and sources of "good healthy outdoor exercise" in the form of lawn maintenance [consisting of watering, weeding, seeding, and cutting the grass, preferably while riding a fancy tractor-like lawn mower].)

        

You see, I have something in common with a lawn:
I have a lot of knowledge spread out over a wide area, but it rarely goes very deep.

Although I value my interest in a wide variety of subjects (more on that in my next post), I feel that now I want to spread out a little less and dig down a little more; I want to deepen my understanding of something and concentrate on it for a while (for example, I'd like to increase my fluency in French) rather than my usual practice of flitting from subject to subject.

The Joy (and by joy I mean delight) of Learning

Just a few minutes ago I was reminded of how much I love, love, love to learn from someone who is passionate about his/her subject. I was watching an episode of TED Talks [sidebar: TED is "a nonprofit devoted to Ideas Worth Spreading," and TED Talks are watchable online at ted.com; you don't need to watch them on television], and after two lectures I had to stop watching and blog immediately.

The first lecture, given by writer/director/producer J.J. Abrams, was engaging, funny, and inspiring. His view of the unknown, as mystery to be anticipated with excitement, was beautiful.  However, it was the second lecture, given by Princeton molecular biologist Bonnie Bassler, that prompted my need to write today.

Her lecture described how bacteria talk to each other (with a molecular chemical language, since you asked), and how that enables them to behave in concert—including a very satisfying, oh-right-that-makes-perfect-sense explanation of how "bad" bacteria can become virulent. I noticed partway through the lecture that I was grinning as broadly as a child at a cartoon festival. Why was I smiling? After all, this wasn't humorous pop-culture stuff; there was hard science here (although Bassler made everything easily understandable to the layperson). Then it dawned on me: this woman was as excited about her team's discoveries as a kid pulling on your pant leg to say, "Hey, look what I found! Lookit, lookit, lookit! Isn't this the coolest thing you've ever seen, ever?" Her enthusiasm was infectious enough to reach out through the tv set and grab me. Granted, I would have been interested in the subject no matter what (because I'm such a nerd), but her love for her science and for its possibilities permeated her lecture and filled me with delight.

As I sit here typing, the smile still lingers. I'm still excited about what I learned. And I'm excited to be excited; the thrill of learning something new, the joy of discovery, the delight and fascination at how things work, it's all still inside me.

You're never too old to learn, and it's still just as much fun as ever.

Metta, part the first

I only learned the term Metta recently; I knew the term lovingkindness, a lovely comforting and comfortable word. So many letters all crammed together like a nice squishy hug, a nice long word like arms spread out to say, "I love you this much." Lovingkindness meant something different than either word separately; I always saw the word as an overall serene benevolence, a soft smile that misses no sentient being in its scope (and to me the smile encompasses the vegetable and mineral kingdoms as well as the animals). Lovingkindness is the state of being or emotion that reminds me the most of deism, because in my early religious training I was taught of a benevolent god who loves all his creation, and I associate lovingkindness with the state of mind that such a god would possess all the time.

Metta is different. Metta sounds like meta, which means several things to me: it has its computer meanings (e.g., metadata), its scientific meanings (e.g., metatarsal bones), and other meanings that come from its Greek origins as a prefix meaning after, next to, or regarding the self (e.g., metatarsals are the bones next to or after the tarsals, and meta-emotion is a person's emotion about his/her own emotion).

Metta practice is a meditation on lovingkindness in which one first thinks compassionate thoughts towards oneself (meta-Metta when meta refers to self), then towards someone close (meta-Metta when meta refers to next to), then towards someone who's not as close (meta-Metta when meta refers to after), and then towards everyone (meta-Metta when meta refers to beyond). The bigger picture is that all these various separations—I, you, he, they, others—are artificial. In truth we are not separate from each other, and metta is a way to remember that.

Considering how difficult that concept is, it's easier to start with thinking compassionate thoughts as close as our own hearts, and then letting the compassion spread out in expanding waves just like the ripples of a pebble in a pond. The waves begin at the center place where the stone plops into the water, and then roll out in circles that continue to expand farther and farther way from the center point until they reach to the edges of the pond on all sides. The vibrations never stop until the entire surface of the water has been affected; not only that, they don't even stop at the shore, but bounce back off the edges and ripple back into the middle of the pond again.

Poetry Info

There's a show on the CUNY channel* called Voices and Visions that has various different kinds of films about poets.

Next week it's supposed to be a repeat of their show on William Carlos Williams, although on cuny.tv's schedule it says it'll be a show on Hart Crane. I'm hoping the cable TV's schedule is the right one, because I saw the Williams episode before and enjoyed it.

This is Just to Say, by William Carlos Williams
artwork by Ivan Boothe, on quixoticlife.net

*For those of you not in New York, CUNY is the City University of New York; CUNY TV is their television station, on Channel 75 on the various NYC cable stations. They have podcasts and YouTube videos of a bunch of their shows for all you out-of-region folks, but sadly I don't think Voices and Visions is one of them.

Mantras, part not-yet-1

Until I have the opportunity to gather my thoughts enough to write a real essay on mantras, chanting, and using malas, please enjoy the following:

Green Tara Mantra: Throat Chanting

It is one of the mantras I used to use, but haven't in a long while (I've been sticking with the Avelokiteshvara mantra for a little over a year now). Oh, what the heck--here's a throat singing version of that one, too:

Om Mani Padme Hum (Throat singing)

Determination

Yesterday afternoon on the bus I met a very angry five-year-old boy. I don't have any idea why he was so angry; his father led us to believe he had been denied something and wasn't happy about it. This young man was determined to remain furious for the entire bus ride. I've never seen someone frown with such focus. He concentrated with all of his being on pulling his brows down as far as they would go. His teeth were clenched and his face was scrunched up tight. He stomped his feet as hard as they could stomp, and then he squatted down and put his arms around his knees. It was the most exquisite sulk I've ever seen. The lady sitting next to me and I couldn't help laughing with delight at the boy's display. He glared at us dolefully and then worked on his frown some more. I couldn't help but be impressed by this kid. Okay, right now he's causing his father a lot of grief, and his father is responding by muttering, "He's gotta learn that he can't get everything he wants." But when he's older this same stubborn refusal to budge could turn him into a hero. When I saw him glaring over his knees, the phrase that came into my head was, "We shall not be moved." I thought, if this kid gets some encouragement to stick to his guns when it really counts, he could become a great force for good. I envisioned him becoming an advocate for people with lesser-heard voices, and when the powers that be want to push him around, he'd glare at them with the same frown he's been perfecting since he was five, and say, "We shall not be moved."

Why I'm Feeling Down, part 2

This is a song from Joe Jackson's album Look Sharp:

The lyrics are:

I've just been to see my best friend/ He's found another girl
Says she's just about the best thing/ In the whole damn world
And he says, "Can't you see/ what the little lady's done for me"/ Says it like he thinks I'm blind
But the things that you see/ Ain't necessarily the things you can find
Happy loving couples make it look so easy/ Happy loving couples always talk so kind
Till the time that I can do my dancing with a partner/ Those happy couples ain't no friends of mine

People say I'm too damn fussy/ When it comes to girls
Happy couples say/ I must live in a lonely world
Wanna be, wanna really be/ What my friends pretend to be/ Be it in my own good time
Being kind to myself/ Till I become one of two of a kind
But those happy loving couples make it look so easy/ Happy loving couples always talk so kind
Till the time that I can do my dancing with a partner/ Those happy couples ain't no friends of mine

You ain't no friends of mine/ You ain't no friends of mine
You know what I mean/ happy loving couples/ In matching lamb polo-neck sweaters
Reading 'Ideal Homes' magazine, yeah

Wanna be, wanna really be/ What my friends pretend to be/ Be it in my own good time
Being kind to myself/ Till I become one of two of a kind

But those happy loving couples make it look so easy/ Happy loving couples always talk so kind
Until the time that I can do my dancing with a partner/ Those happy couples ain't no friends of mine

You ain't no friends of mine/ You ain't no friends of mine/ You ain't no friends of mine
You ain't no friends of mine/ You ain't no friends of mine/ You ain't no friends of mine
Right, that's enough


I have been single for quite some time now, but that didn't mean I didn't have a partner or a lover if I wanted one. Over the past year I've become increasingly dissatisfied with sex without relationship; I'm more interested in love and partnership than in "just sex." So what was not an issue has become an emptiness.

Then I run into someone I used to be in love with, deeply and achingly. The tough thing is, I'd thought that after so many years those feelings would have subsided. They had--until we reconnected a couple of years ago. At first I didn't feel anything out of the ordinary, and I didn't even remember how much I'd cared for him, but just in the past month or so all those memories have come flooding back, and I'm aching with loneliness and misery. And the stupid thing is, we were never anything but friends, we never will be anything but friends, and my rational mind understands that completely. The part of me that uselessly, ridiculously fell in love never got the message. It's so unnecessarily stressful. I'm miserable whenever I'm around him, which is often lately.

I've also reconnected with some online gaming buddies from back in the day. These are people who were so introverted they made me look like a social expert. I just got an email telling me that my two best friends, my favorite shipmates, both have significant others now. All of a sudden everyone and their cousin Arthur is telling me all about their love lives. I'm sick of it. And it's not because I resent the happiness that my friends and acquaintances have--far from it, I'm thrilled that they have people who they care for and who care for them--but because every time I hear about "my girlfriend" or "my boyfriend" I'm reminded of the empty space that isn't being occupied by a significant other of my own.

The latest thing is being teased by some of my friends. One of my friends has a set of car keys at my house, and I've been waiting for him to come and get it. We used to be lovers occasionally, but as his business has grown so does his travel itinerary, and I rarely see him anymore. When I do, it's usually just for five minutes. But he has made plans to come and pick up his keys and then cancelled several times. I'm feeling like the girl who waits by the phone for the boy who never calls. I don't even love him, but I feel rejected when he keeps cancelling on me. Then there's this teacher who goes on and on about what should he do if he's attracted to a student, and it's excruciating. He's got someone fabulous in his life, so why on earth is he even looking at another person? And why should he mention it to me, when he knows how I feel about infidelity (or maybe he doesn't; guess that will be my next blog subject)? I feel like he's showing off; not only does he have one partner, he's looking at another one, and here I am with none. I tell you, it makes me grouchy.

Till the time that I can do my dancing with a partner, those happy couples ain't no friends of mine.

You ain't no friends of mine/ You ain't no friends of mine/ You ain't no friends of mine
Right, that's enough

Why I'm Feeling Down, part 1

Recently a lot of wonderful things have been happening in my life. I've kept my commitment to keeping musical social engagements, I've been having a very positive phone friendship with a high school friend I reconnected with on FaceBook, and I'm making some significant progress in my process of rediscovering my true self. And yet, at quiet moments I've felt that downward turn that signifies the return of one of my old insidious enemies, depression. It didn't make sense to me, because I'm so much more at peace in so many areas of my life, and I have genuine enthusiasm and strength within myself that usually don't (can't?) exist when I'm depressed. Because of the nature of the disease, I assumed that it wasn't causal; that is, no event had triggered a negative feeling, it just happened because of brain chemistry or electrical misfires (depending on if you're a believer in the synaptic model or the chemical neurotransmitter model).

It turns out that there have been triggers, and very specific ones. As a person who struggles with body image, I was very distressed by photos taken of me at a party in December. I don't feel as large as I look in the pictures, and seeing them and realizing that's how others see me was gut-wrenching.

Let me explain visually, because I find this fun and I don't have to type as much:

In my mind's eye I'm sort of a cross between punk rock girl like this:
and a sort of cute nerdy librarian type like this:

But when I saw the photo from the party, I felt as if I looked like a cross between this and this:

Okay, now you can understand why my self-esteem plummeted, right? Yeah, I felt really crappy, really unattractive, zero sex appeal.Really unfun.



Of course, there are people on the interwebs whose job it is to make me happy with my body right this moment. I pulled the photo of the punk rock chick above from one of them (thethickness.tumblr.com, but DO NOT go there if you're offended by nudity or provocative images, because many of them are NSFW (Not Safe For Work, i.e. sexually explicit]), and the illustration is from JenOaks.etsy.com, who's made an incredibly gorgeous calendar of pin-up art which IMHO is even cuter than the Elvgren or Vargas originals because the girls are curvier.

And lastly, something that appeals to the confrontational punk rocker in me:

Compassion and Sticking Up for Myself, including the Hot Sauce Lesson

(This is especially for people who've had trouble with self-esteem [TS, I'm looking at you right now], and for people who don't think they can correct someone without being a bad guy [ahem, HM].)

Compassion can be calling someone on their bullshit, in a kind and loving way. 

Example:

I go into the office, and the fellow I'm meeting with is playing a video game on his iPhone. I tell him it's rude to play a game during our meeting. He apologizes and puts the phone down. Later when I'm leaving, he makes a point of apologizing again and thanks me.

For those of you who don't know me from my mouse years, I have a history of not sticking up for myself. I had every right to expect that during our meeting I would have his full attention, and it was not acceptable for him to divide his focus with a game. I acted correctly by speaking up. The fact that I just went ahead and did it, as opposed to sitting there and being annoyed (or worse, sitting there and feeling invalidated), is a pretty big step in my self-empowerment. So hooray for me, but where's the compassion part?

I made my feelings known, but I did so without accusation. I was not being judgmental or criticizing, I was not angry, and I hope my tone of voice was mild. I told him he did something wrong, but in a loving and gentle way. 

I have memories of being lovingly and gently corrected when I was little; the Hot Sauce Lesson in particular comes to mind.

When I was little I got into everything. Kipling would have said I was "full of 'satiable curtiosity." I clambered onto countertops, opened doors and drawers, and twisted the tops off of jars and bottles. I also liked to taste the foods and drink in those jars and bottles, so my folks had to keep a weather eye on me. On one occasion I got into the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of hot sauce. Before I got the chance to get the top off, my father took hold of my hand, looked me in the eyes, and said gently and softly but very firmly, "No." He took the bottle out of my hand, and said, "I'm going to explain why when I say 'No' you should pay attention." He put the hot sauce bottle out of reach and poured a glass of milk. Then he told me to hold out my finger. Wide-eyed and not slightly intimidated, I stuck out my finger. Dad put a teensy drop of hot sauce on it. "Okay, now you can taste just that tiny little bit." I put my finger in my mouth, and at once my eyes got as big as saucers. Dad saw my face, handed me the milk, and said, "Here. Drink this; it will help." I did as I was told, and the fire on my tongue eventually died out. When I finished the milk, my father said, "See how that tiny drop was so hot? That's why I told you 'No.' I didn't want you to burn your mouth. Now if I say 'No' to you, you'll know to stop, because it's important and I'm trying to protect you." I nodded solemnly, the sensation of heat still in my mouth. 

What a fantastic lesson, right? Instead of yelling or making a fuss, he taught me with lovingkindness. There's your compassion right there, buddy, and I was admonished in a way where I wasn't made to feel small, or bad, or naughty. He wasn't mad at me. I hadn't disappointed him or hurt his feelings.

So the moral of the story is: it is possible to stick up for oneself and admonish someone while still remaining compassionate.

Happy New Year!

 (Caveat: much like my recent sessions, the following post is disjointed, tangential, and wordy. 

And with lots of visuals.)

As a result of my openmindedness and having grown up around a lot of different kinds of faiths and traditions, I happily celebrate New Year not once, but three times.

First is the Winter Solstice, which ends the cycle of days getting shorter and nights getting longer. It is the shortest day of all, and from that point on every day will lengthen. It has been celebrated for millennia: the Romans had Saturnalia and Sol Invictus, the Northern Europeans had/have Yule, East Asians have Dōng Zhì, and I think of it as the solar new year, although that isn't accurate cosmologically speaking.

Second is the calendar New Year, the one where they drop the ball in Times Square and all that. As it's not based on a planetary or celestial phenomenon, this date means the least to me. Not that it's a big nothing, but it just doesn't have the same rite-of-passage feeling for me. The thing of most importance about January First is that it's my aunt Linda's birthday, which makes it very special indeed.

Third is the Lunar New Year, which this year began on Monday, January 23rd. I don't call it Lunar New Year to be more politically correct than by saying Chinese New Year, especially because at least five Asian countries celebrate the same day; I call it the Lunar New Year because the holiday begins on the first New Moon of the new (Gregorian) calendar year, i.e. it's the first new moon after January 1st, 2012. (I'd go into lunisolar calendars with you, but really I'm not in the mood. I'm trying to tell a story about my NEW YEAR.)



   
And this is where the story really starts:

Bass players who died in 2011

Last year, 2011, was a year with a lot of pain. My friend Steve got shot to death. My friend Susan died after a very protracted fight with brain cancer. Two other women from my musical neighbourhood died as well. Also, because I spent so much of the year attending Susan, I missed a lot of appointments, neglected my own health commitments, and passed up a lot of social interaction situations such as my friends' bands playing. (This was so important to me that, after I mentioned my regret at missing my friend Josh's last show of the year, my therapist suggested I make a solid commitment to see his first show of 2012.)

When the Winter Solstice came around, I really had the sense of the year of sorrows being finished, to make room for a year of joy. It also felt like an end to a year of endings, and the beginning of a year of beginnings.

Jimmy "Guns" Adams

My friend Jimmy convinced me to be in a band again. He'd contribute three songs, I'd bring three, and we'd do two covers; that would be enough for the first performance. Easy. When he said I'd sing lead on my three songs, I told him how difficult I found it to sing lead. He replied, "We're none of us getting any younger. So when exactly were you planning to sing lead? What are you waiting for? If not now, when?"

New Year's Eve I stayed home, didn't go to any of the shows I had a slight interest in seeing, and just hung out in the house. I realised this was another missed social opportunity, but I was not in the mood to be around revelling imbibers; I'd worked at the nightclub on too many New Year's Eves to want to go out on that night.

Josh Lozano in Man's Gin

During the first week of January, true to my New Year's Resolution, I saw Josh's band's first performance of the New Year. Two days later I saw his second. The following week I saw his third gig, plus the first show of the year with his other band, and then a couple of days after that I saw his bass player perform an ambient set in a bar in Williamsburg. I also caught a show of a bunch of Jimmy's friends' bands, which gave me confidence I could perform at their level easily, no matter how self-conscious or unsure I felt. I couldn't possibly be worse than some of the musicians I'd seen that night, who nevertheless had the gumption to get up on stage and play.

photo:eBay   translation: me

Lunar New Year was yesterday, and as is typical for Mondays I went to therapy, where my teacher noticed I was wearing a Guan Yin pendant. We got into a discussion about spirituality, and I couldn't pinpoint the first time that I'd begun chanting with a mala. Gave me food for thought for my journey home. I came in and practised the bass for a little while on my already sore fingers, had some supper and the obligatory TV time, and said Om Mane Padme Hum 108 times before finally falling to sleep with the mala around my wrist.

 

  And this is where the story really starts:

On this, the second day of the Year of the Yang Water Dragon, I woke up easily and had the notion to do something I haven't done in a long, long time: I went out into the living room and sat quietly, concentrating on my breathing and posture. One, two, in, out, and adjusting and tweaking myself along the way: shoulders back and down, ribcage up, stomach in, rotate that right shoulder again, one, two, and so forth. My mind was very busy, and I had a lot to do to get my focus on my breath. Last night's music keeps playing in my head--One, two. Gotta get out to Long Island and pick up the laptop--In, out. Stupid Ed--ONE, TWO.

Didn't felt like I got much done, but to my surprise, when I looked at the clock on the cable box I'd been sitting there for forty minutes. Wow. Then I had another new notion: why not go outside? Put clothes on, grabbed some library books, and out I went. On the way out I saw the UPS truck. Considering the thefts we've had and the fact that my next-door neighbour gets a lot of stuff delivered, I asked the courier if there was anything for my building. Sure enough there was, but it was for someone on the fourth floor. My usual thing is to keep the packages and then call to give a heads-up and say pick it up when you get home. This time I decided to do my fearless neighbour thing and go knock on the stranger's door. Success! He was home, we were introduced, and he got his package safely.

Back down I went, four flights and out of the house. Went to the library, decided to move my car to the good side of the street but not before driving a few blocks to keep the battery happy, and then had the idea to check out the kids playing on the new skate ramps installed in the southern part of my local park. The ramps are right by the parking lot, so I parked, and proceeded to walk past the skaters to the walking path that rings around the track oval. Then I found myself walking on the track, being supported by the springier surface of the track. I walked around a couple of laps, singing Mozart and Gilbert & Sullivan to exercise my voice and lungs, and then made it back to my car just as a blister announced itself on my right arch.

All this is to say that, without SHOULDs or MUSTs or any other kind of finger-waggling, and without having made any resolutions at all except for the seeing Josh's band one, I found myself celebrating the New Year by doing things I'd been wanting to do for a year but hadn't been able to do. I was waiting to become motivated, trying to be motivated, trying to make it happen, and this morning it happened without any particular effort or even thought on my part. Happy New Year to me!

And this is where the story really starts... .