Bad Romance: the problem of musical taste

It is strange, but often the case, that a lover with bad taste should not be a lover long. It seems as though it wouldn't matter. Why would I care what music he listens to in the privacy of  headphones? Must we have everything in common?

In high school, I chose friends on the basis of musical taste. Wearing a Siouxie Sioux or Dead Kennedys t-shirt indicated more than concert attendance. In point of fact, it meant we were destined to be friends. On the other hand, any indication of an interest in heavy metal or top of the chart pop would earn a person the gaze of my unwavering contempt.

Now, as an adult according to most traditional standards, I feel obligated to be open-minded. I will not judge someone harshly upon discovering a deep attachment to Bruce Springsteen, for example. After all, I don't HATE Bruce Springsteen. He wrote that Patti Smith song I love. He is a skilled songwriter and has talent. I guess.

And yet, I do not want to watch a six-hour documentary on the making of his second album. Nor do I want to attend the concerts of  heavy metal tribute bands. Even if it's supposed to be ironic, the music still sucks. And here is where the problem becomes clear. The less we share, and I hate to say this, but--the less we end up caring.

Whatever. I wrote for 15 minutes.

boundaries and walls

After glancing through a book called Taking Care of Yourself First No Matter What, I began to think about our obligations to self vs. obligations to others. It is troubling to me that this should always be the right choice, given that, objectively, our needs are not more important than the needs of others. Putting myself always first would seem to suggest that my interests deserve more attention. Why?

One answer might be the egoist's claim to efficiency. I am better equipped to meet my needs than yours. If we place no demands upon one another, everyone is free to focus on meeting their own needs. I know myself better than you know me and I have more control over my life than I have over yours. Furthermore, some things cannot be fixed by others.

Kant emphasized equality between our obligations to self and others. On his view, my own needs are as important as yours. I shouldn't use others, nor should I allow others to use me. Kant's notion of self-respect retains obligations to others, just not to the extent that we devalue our own autonomy. On the other hand, Christian and Muslim ethics promote self-sacrifice as a virtue. Women bear the legacy of generations trained in the virtues of self-sacrifice.  As a result, deeply ingrained social expectations push us to forsake our own ambitions to support the dreams of partners and children. Men also sacrifice themselves for others, and while praised, it seems less demanded.

 However, my main concern here does not address gender, but what we all lose in pursuit of independence.  Perhaps certain cases call for over-correction. When one tends to the extreme (an excess of self-sacrifice), one must practice the opposite extreme (excess self-interest) in the hopes of finding the middle. Aristotle described this as the road from vice to virtue. Both extremes are vice. Theoretically, balance between self and other-interest is best. In practice, the process pushes us to cruelty and pulls us apart--walls stand between persons in our pursuit of boundaries.

Rock climbing offers an alternative model.  Partnership is necessary; one cannot climb alone. Your climbing partner cannot scale the wall for you, and yet safety requires alternating dependency between partners. I offer a safety line for you and you for me. I believe that is the model of a life well lived--we scale walls isolating us from one another by complex interdependence not simple independence.

wanting mind

Wanting mind is a crackhead squirrel (not merely caffeinated) working up a sweat in my head.  Here's whats on today's treadmill:

Pema Chodron: All the emotions  we experience are exactly what we need to be fully human.

Tara Brock: If a vicious dog charges, whistle for it.

------------------------

Wanting mind:

Wanting something means I must be lacking, missing out, left behind, incomplete.  Intellectually, theoretically, I believe that happiness comes from within, yet here land again--caught up in wanting mind.  Fear follows from want. I'm afraid of the hole in my heart, scared that it will never be filled.

Mistake  #1: thinking that contentment requires approval (the prize, the guy, publication, tenure).

Solution: Be present. (yada yada, the squirrel interjects)

Practice: Assume this moment is enough exactly as it is. If that's the case I better pay better attention, because part of me doesn't believe it. Value where I already stand and hope to see more clearly who I am.

 And until I feel in my heart what I know in my head?

Response and Reaction: 

Experiment #1: Notice when fear and wanting affect my actions.

Axiom: Lean into fear rather than run away.

Initial Application:  Day of teaching observation. Typically, my work comes before other concerns. Why? I am afraid of losing my job (or not getting tenure).  What would I do if I weren't afraid of losing my job?  I would go for a quick run instead of reviewing my lecture notes.

Result: I went for a run. The fear was still there--but I just let it hang out with me.  Teaching observation went great, but more importantly, I got to enjoy what I have now instead of being scared away by the thought of not getting what I want.

packing heat (fiction)

The first time I held a gun, I was too young to drive, too young to wear make-up, and too young to be holding a goddamn gun. Grandaddy Clarence talked me through its proper use while sucking down many Bloody Marys, which always were one of his very favorite noon o'clock cocktails. He had to go somewhere and I would be by myself at his house for a while. It was a shotgun, I think, heavy. My arms started hurting just trying to hold it up long enough for the home-alone instructions. I don't remember anything he said. I only remember the sense of dread--something could happen that would be worse than what would happen if I tried to use this gun.

The second time i held a gun, I was too young to be president, too old for my parents to claim me as a dependent, but old enough to know better.  My boyfriend's buddy carried a big silver gun, bigger than what cops carry on TV. Apparently, they both thought it was important that I shoot a gun at least once in my young (stupid) life. We drove out into the orchards under dark of night. I held the gun out the window, wrist wobbling--again the weight. I squeezed the trigger and was startled by the sci-fi flash and high pitched pheeeeww sound that followed.

Time was, I held my own gun and it fit my hand quite nicely. It was light and small, but not so small that it wouldn't get the desired reaction. I carried it in the back pocket of my jeans. I remember pulling it out with intention only once, secure in both hands, no fucking idea what I was doing.

tonight left right

Tonight I pay seventeen dollars for a salad.

It arrives drenched, “field greens” limp with balsamic and a strong temptation takes hold. I could stir my napkin around the bowl, soaking up the excess mess. Luckily, I catch myself and instead, look for conversational distraction.

To my right, an Italian man charms Yoga Girl from L.A. to his right.

To my left, a soft-spoken French man tells me about being vegetarian in France. I try to be charmed, but find my mind drifting. I wish he were here. Wait a minute—get present. He is not here. What is actually going on around me? Stay in the moment.

“I do not like blood,” Frenchman says, face slightly pickled.

Is this an animal rights thing? I am about to ask. Or some kind of personal issue? I am not about to ask.

To his left, a feisty woman with a loud voice interrupts. She keeps correcting his pronunciation, which keeps making me laugh (not at him, but at her). She is a native New Yorker (figures). Apparently, she is also a speech-therapist-voice-coach of some sort. I guess that explains why she was doing those funny voice exercises while we were running—and I just assumed she was crazy. I will need more information before changing my mind.

In front of me, across the table, a bubbly young Asian woman asks about my work. She is also a PhD, some kind of social scientist. We exchange contact information.

Down the other end of the table, Santa waxes knowledgeable on the essential differences between men and women (again). Hilarious.

do not write

Do not tell stories. I am not in them.
Do not send pictures. I couldn't take them.
Do not write for fifteen minutes-
I will read it fifty times.
Once budding, now fucked.
Estranged then and already again.
A strewn leaf, dull stars
damp words and hollow mouth.

best memories running

running
running with the big boys
running around
running guns 

grade school race: swing of my legs, my gait, my stride
rotation of my hips, breeze on my waist, skin exposed.
barefoot at the track with mom--shin splints.

earth day with the kids
tae kwon do training sessions, 7am along the Modesto canals.
midnight run, moonlit boundary waters. he's afraid to kiss me.
river figure 8's in Minneapolis--hamstring pulled.
three years off
 

first race with Op
fresh air in Gotham
running for sanity
this time no stopping

running with santa

Our leader wears a Santa hat. His assistant, also in Santa hat, carries clip board and pen. 109 people signed up; there are about 25 or 30 of us here, freezing our asses off, waiting to get started. Mrs. Santa collects dues, gives us name tags, and checks people off the list. I start talking to the woman next to me. She looks bored and lonely. Turns out she is just too cool. Well, that's how she's playing it off anyway. She just moved from LA and really likes yoga better than running. She doesn't ask any questions in response to mine. As she talks, she leans slightly to the side, one leg crossed over the other; one arm hangs down, the other across her body with hand clenching one arm at elbow. She looks off into the distance--on the ground a few feet in front of herself. Odd.


We begin with a mile and a half warm-up: one loop around JKO reservoir in Central Park. Since I am the slowest one, I have to go the opposite direction from the rest of the group and then turn around when we meet. This is not a good start, I think. I feel like the last kid picked for kickball. I know that feeling well and while not my very least favorite feeling, it comes close. What the hell? I always tell my students that feeling lost, confused, and out-of-place is part of the territory when it comes to growth. Here goes.


After our warm up, we do some long, slow, downhill intervals. I am at the back but not by too far. About half the group is way ahead and the other half is just ahead. Uphill sprints follow, which sound awful, but they are short, and broken up by recovery time. Between sprints, Santa lectures us on form. He comments on how we should swing our arms versus how we are swinging our arms. He points out that women tend to run with a dainty, bouncy, stride. He wants us to run like we're the hero in a movie. Feminine running, he repeats, won't save the girl at the end--or the guy.


I look around to see if this mortifies anyone else. The woman next to me (she just did the NYC marathon in four hours) mutters something about élite woman runners. A few other people smile and shake their heads. All I can do is laugh. I guess I understand what he means to convey in spite of the stereotyping and over-generalizations. For some reason, it's OK as long as the group isn't buying it.


I feel pretty good during the sprints because I'm in the middle of the group. Silly, but it's something.

things my students wrote

“All humans are essentially junkies; the way we chose to get high is the only variation. One person will desperately seek to trigger the release of dopamine by studying hard and receiving good grades while another person will trigger the same effect by smoking methamphetamine.”

“I am slowly learning to appreciate my journey to self-discovery. Most importantly, however, I am coming to terms with the fact I might never understand everything about myself. I do not have to know everything or have full control of everything all the time, and that realization brings me extreme happiness all on its own.”

“Should intellectuals not begin to inject critique as a cure for hegemonic thinking and bring the question of being to its rightful place, it may be impossible to do so in the future. The day in which all is “happily” enframed and nothing is revealed anymore, where MacDonald's, Coca-Cola, and capitalist decadence take precedence over our relationship to ourselves and others may dawn on us one day. This would be nihilism par excellence as everyone would be obliviously fat and partaking in the exploitation of others.”

 “Speaking and changing ourselves is the only way toward peace without sacrificing individuals as if they were meaningless. We will never attain peace unless we drop the weapons and wage war with our voice.”

“Some philosophers believe that love is purely an emotion and others believe that it is mainly conceptual. In my opinion, love is more than just an emotion or an idea. Love is emotional, physical, mental and chemical.”

“There is nothing worse than trying to get to know someone and all they can talk about is how pretty you are. There is no substance in a conversation of that nature. You should be communicating to see if you might want to spend the rest of your life with this person.”

“We all just need to learn how to pay full attention without judging. Philosophers Krishnamurti and Heidegger both explained listening well. However, I think they missed the most important part, that life is about listening to one another or even listening to music, sounds, etc…. Without listening, there is no relationship with anything beyond self.”

sharing the heat

Tonight's dharma gathering focused on enlightened society and compassion.

The speaker defined compassion as "sharing the heat.

More than kindness; it is passionate community.

That, my friends, is just what I seek. So tonight, I have little to say; and yet, this joy bubbling up inside me must be spilled on the page--

I've got heat to share.

freedom and desire

Describe a time in your life when you felt truly free.

I finished the section on free will today. Last week I convinced my students (some anyway) that free will is an illusion because humans cannot rise above the laws of nature-- as physical beings, we are subject to cause and effect. Really the only explanation of human freedom comes from religious doctrine. Some of my students became rather dejected over this prospect. If we're not free, what's the point?

Today I turned it around on them. Human freedom (according to Frankfurt's compatibilism) isn't contrary to the laws of nature. Freedom is simply part of how we understand ourselves as persons.  Self-identification sets the conditions for freedom, and in turn explains what makes life meaningful. In other words, freedom comes from living according to the aspirations with which we most identify. If I think of myself as an honest person, I will be free insofar as my actions are honest--I'm living as I most want to live, rather than letting fleeting desires rule my choices.

On this view, there are two kinds of desire: those concerned with basic gratification and those closer to our heart. The integrated self manages to bring these in to alignment and thus takes control, actualizing her deepest, most sacred desires for happiness.

It is always interesting to hear what they come up with--graduating high school, getting a college education, taking a break from work, refraining from technology on Sabbath, swimming in the ocean.

Tonight, however, I'm puzzling over the examples that don't fit Frankfurt's example. Beatrice described floating on the water, forgetting about the rest of the world. This does sound like freedom. It also doesn't have much to do with how she (or I) think of myself as a person. Floating in the sea has little to do with who I want to be but it has a lot to do with what makes life worth living.

I'm guess I'm starting to buy the notion that I am not my desires, simple or aspirational. Freedom might be possible without reference to identity or self-control.

I'm still puzzling.

my soundtrack

Here is one possible soundtrack for the movie of my life (coming soon to a theater near you).

Summertime - Janis Joplin & Jimi Hendrix

This song speaks to my origins in the STP family, living communally. It also invokes my connection to the deep south, my mother's side of the family tree--she used to sing this to me.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zuD6KGTRoFw?rel=0&w=420&h=315]

Summertime, time, time,

Child, the living's easy.

Fish are jumping out

And the cotton, Lord,

Cotton's high, Lord, so high.

Your daddy's rich

And your ma is so good-looking, baby.

She's looking good now,

Hush, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby,

No, no, no, no, don't you cry.

Don't you cry!

One of these mornings

You're gonna rise, rise up singing,

You're gonna spread your wings,

Child, and take, take to the sky,

Lord, the sky.

Until that morning

Honey, n-n-nothing's going to harm you now,

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,

Don't you cry,

Don't you cry,

Cry.

Violent Femmes - Kiss Off

The horrors of teenage angst come through loud and clear. I listened to nothing but this album for several weeks straight.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLMn8UPmSTo?rel=0&w=420&h=315]

I need someone,
A person to talk to,
Someone who'd care to love.
Could it be you?
Could it be you?
Situation gets rough then I start to panic,
It's not enough,
It's just a habit.
Hey kid you're sick,
Well darling this is it.
You can all just kiss off into the air,
Behind my back I can see them stare.
They'll hurt me bad but I won't mind,
They'll hurt me bad,
They do it all the time.
Yeah, yeah they do it all the time.
Yeah, yeah they do it all the time.
Yeah, yeah they do it all the time.
Yeah, yeah they do it all the time.
I hope you know this will go down on your permanent record.
Oh yeah, well don't get so distressed,
Did I happen to mention that I'm impressed?
I take one, one, one cause you left me and,
Two, two, two for my family and,
Three, three, three, for my heartache and,
Four, four, four for my headaches and,
Five, five, five for my loneliness and,
Six, six, six for my sorrow and,
Seven, seven for n-n-no tomorrow and,
Eight, eight, I forget what eight was for and,
Nine, nine, nine for a lost god and,
Ten, ten, ten, ten for everything, everything, everything, everything.
You can all just kiss off into the air,
Behind my back I can see them stare.
They'll hurt me bad but I won't mind,
They'll hurt me bad,
They do it all the time.
Yeah, yeah, yeah they do it all the time.
Yeah, yeah, yeah they do it all the time.
Do it all the time.
Do it all the time.
Do it all the time, time, time.
Yeah, yeah they do it all the time.

The Cure - Jumping Someone Else's Train

Surrounded by cowboys and cheerleaders, I was desperate for people with depth and originality. The Cure got me through high school, the Slo-detha Texas years.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4jTcTIc25Ck?rel=0&w=560&h=315]

Don't say what you mean

You might spoil your face

If you walk in the crowd

You won't leave any trace

It's always the same

You're jumping someone else's train

It won't take you long

To learn the new smile

You have to adapt

Or you'll be out of style

It's always the same

You're jumping someone else's train

If you pick up on it quick

You can say you were there

Again and again and again

You're jumping someone else's train

It's the latest wave

That you've been craving for

The old ideal was getting such a bore

Now you're back in line

Going not quite quite as far

But in half the time

Everyone's happy

They're finally all the same

Because everyone's jumping

Everybody else's train

Jumping someone else's train

Jumping someone else's train

Jumping someone else's train

Joy Division, "She's Lost Control"

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jMgHDL5p9q0]

Confusion in her eyes that says it all.

She's lost control.

And she's clinging to the nearest passer by,

She's lost control.

And she gave away the secrets of her past,

And said I've lost control again,

And a voice that told her when and where to act,

She said I've lost control again.

And she turned around and took me by the hand and said,

I've lost control again.

And how I'll never know just why or understand,

She said I've lost control again.

And she screamed out kicking on her side and said,

I've lost control again.

And seized up on the floor, I thought she'd die.

She said I've lost control.

She's lost control again.

She's lost control.

She's lost control again.

She's lost control.

Well I had to 'phone her friend to state my case,

And say she's lost control again.

And she showed up all the errors and mistakes,

And said I've lost control again.

But she expressed herself in many different ways,

Until she lost control again.

And walked upon the edge of no escape,

And laughed I've lost control.

She's lost control again.

She's lost control.

She's lost control again.

She's lost control.

Interpol - Not even Jail

I tried rehab. I tried 12 stepping. Jail was rock bottom.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujeIrYeJ14M?rel=0&w=420&h=315]

I'll lay down my glasses

I'll lay down in houses

If things come alive

I'll subtract pain by ounces

Yeah, I will start painting houses

If things come alive

I promise to commit no acts of violence

Neither physical or otherwise

If things come alive

I'll say it now

I'll say it now

Say it now

Oh I'll say it now

Cause I want it now

When personality is scarred tissue

We travel South if it's use

I'm subtle like a lion's cage

Such a cautious display

Remember take hold of your time here

Give some meanings to the means

To your end

Not even jail

We marshal in the days of longing

We tremble like anyone's children

And wait to watch the fire

Repairing on the side of caution

Betraying no other symptom

But girl you shake it right

I will bounce you on the lap of silence

We will free love to the beats of science

And girl you shake it right

I'll say it now

Oh but hold still darling your hair so free

Can't you feel all the warmth of my sincerity

You make motion when you cry

You're making peoples lives feel less private

Don't take time away

You make motion when you cry

We all hold hands

can't we all hold hands

When we make new friends

I pretend like no one else

To try to control myself

I'm subtle like a lion's cage

Such a cautious display

Remember take hold of your time here

Give some meanings to the means

To your end

Not even jail

Poe: Control

Feeling bad-ass for (finally) finding my mojo and getting my act together.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q5nwEb4EQAo?rel=0&w=420&h=315]

(link to the full length song)

Don't you mess with a little girl's dream

'Cause she's liable to grow up mean

Surprised you to find that I'm laughing?

You thought that you'd find me in tears

You thought I'd be crawling the walls

Like a tiny mosquito and trembling in fear

Well you may be king for the moment

But I am a queen understand

And I've got your pawns and your bishops

And castles

All inside the palm of my hand

While you were looking the other way

While you had your eyes closed

While you were licking your lips

'Cause I was miserable

While you were selling your soul

While you were tearing a hole in me

I was taking control

Now I have taken control

Now I have taken control...

This is beginning to feel good

Watching you squirm in your shoes

A small bead of sweat on your brow

And a growl in your belly your scared to let through

You thought you could keep me from loving

You thought you could feed on my soul

But while you were busy destroying my life

What was half in me has become whole

While you were looking the other way

While you had your eyes closed

While you were licking your lips

'Cause I was miserable

While you were selling your soul

While you were tearing a hole in me

I was taking control

Now I have taken control

Now I have taken control...

So this is how it feels

To breath in the summer air

The feel the sand between my toes

And love inside my ear

All those things that you taught me to fear

I've got them in my garden now

And your not welcome here

Come a little bit closer

Let me look at you

I gave you the benefit

Of the doubt it's true

But keep in mind my darling

Not every saint is a fool

While you were looking the other way

While you had your eyes closed

While you were licking your lips

'Cause I was miserable

While you were selling your soul

While you were tearing a hole in me

I was taking control

Now I have taken control

Now I have taken control...

Don't you mess with me

Father: there has to be more to life than this, because in our

confrontation with a cold cold universe, there is something comical

to the idea that we can really impose our will on humanity-- power corrupts!

The Replacements - Androgynous

Kindred souls coming together (happily ever after)--that's a good thing, right? Right?

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8J9WssSj7Q?rel=0&w=420&h=315]

Here come Dick, he's wearing a skirt

Here comes Jane, y'know she's sporting a chain

Same hair, revolution

Same build, evolution

Tomorrow who's gonna fuss

And they love each other so

Androgynous

Closer than you know, love each other so

Androgynous

Don't get him wrong and don't get him mad

He might be a father, but he sure ain't a dad

And she don't need advice that'll center her

She's happy with the way she looks

She's happy with her gender

Mirror image, see no damage

See no evil at all

Kewpie dolls and urine stalls

Will be laughed at

The way you're laughed at now

Now, something meets Boy, and something meets Girl

They both look the same

They're overjoyed in this world

Same hair, revolution

Unisex, evolution

Tomorrow who's gonna fuss

And tomorrow Dick is wearing pants

And tomorrow Janie's wearing a dress

Future outcasts and they don't last

And today, the people dress the way that they please

The way they tried to do in the last centuries

Aimee Mann - Wise up 

A song about accepting the truth and moving on.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e3D7xplBYNY?rel=0&w=560&h=315]

It's not
What you thought
When you first began it
You got
What you want
Now you can hardly stand it though,
By now you know
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
'Til you wise up
You're sure
There's a cure
And you have finally found it
You think
One drink
Will shrink you 'til you're underground
And living down
But it's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
'Til you wise up
Prepare a list of what you need
Before you sign away the deed
'Cause it's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
It's not going to stop
'Til you wise up
No, it's not going to stop
'Til you wise up
No, it's not going to stop
So just... give up

Jewel- Hands

This song has been my refuge. Strength, hope, love, belted out without fear. Jewel is underrated.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lk0bKfC8XSE?rel=0&w=420&h=315]

Dido - Life For Rent

My life in transit...seems like I'm always moving (or moving on).

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OFtNChII78k?rel=0&w=560&h=315]

I haven't ever really found a place that I call home

I never stick around quite long enough to make it

I apologize that once again I'm not in love

But it's not as if I mind that your heart ain't exactly breaking

It's just a thought, only a thought

But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy

Well I deserve nothing more than I get

'cause nothing I have is truly mine

I've always thought that I would love to live by the sea

To travel the world alone and live more simply

I have no idea what's happened to that dream

'cause there's really nothing left here to stop me

It's just a thought, only a thought

But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy

Well I deserve nothing more than I get

'cause nothing I have is truly mine

While my heart is a shield and I won't let it down

While I am so afraid to fail so I won't even try

Well how can I say I'm alive

But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy

Well I deserve nothing more than I get

'cause nothing I have is truly mine

Cat Power- New York

Yeah baby--living the life in the BIG APPLE.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVvUDLMYoMQ?rel=0&w=560&h=315]

Start spreading the news

I'm leaving today

I want to be a part of it

New York, New York

These vagabond shoes

Are longing to stray

Right through the very heart of it

New York, New York

I wanna wake up in a city

That doesn't sleep

And find I'm king of the hill

Top of the heap

These little town blues

Are melting a way

I'll make a brand-new start of it

In old New York

If I can make it there

I'll make it anywhere

It's up to you

New York, New York

New York, New York

I want to wake up

In a city that never sleeps

And find I'm a number one, top of the list

King of the hill, a number one

These little town blues

Are melting a way

I'm gonna make a brand-new start of it

In old New York

And... if I can make it there

I'm gonna make it anywhere

It's up to you

New York, New York

half my heart

In Puerto Rico, dogs run around the streets like they own the place. Come to think of it, so do the chickens. My grandma, whom we always called Fita (grandpa was Flaca, but I never knew him), had a big beautiful dog of unknown origin that made himself at home under the mango tree in her back yard. She called him Pujo. She was sure he'd been beaten because he was so timid. We would go out to feed him leftovers and she would wait patiently while he tiptoed up, head hanging low, eyes peering up from furrowed brow. She loved him. She went outside to visit several times a day, always with bits of food.

On my first visit, I wanted to bring some flowers to her. We had never met before and I was nervous. I went to the town center. There was one florist. They had some funeral wreaths and two kinds of flowers, neither very pretty. The lady bundled all of them together, maroon, gold, and white, into a bouquet that would be "the thought that counts."

I had trouble finding her house, because not all the streets have signs, and the houses don't have numbers! I had to start asking random people, "Do you know Fita?" The second person I asked gave me directions to her house. She was waiting for me on the porch. She made coffee for me using a cloth bag as a drip mechanism. It was really good. She served it in her special 50th anniversary china cups with gold trim. In the background, Betty La Fea was playing. She filled me in on the plot.

Everyone in my family is fluent in English. They all moved to New York City in the late 60's (14 people in a one bedroom apartment). My grandma worked as a seamstress for 25 years, and then moved back to Rincon and bought a house. She had three kids, my dad was the youngest, and of course, "the crazy one."

[slideshow]

moments

 (inspired by WTFH)

I am not ready to describe my moments as absolute awareness, but they were something like that. Perhaps they were the happiest moments, certainly there was a feeling of connectedness, to other people sometimes. but always to nature.
 

Earth Day 1990, Modesto; Graceada Park:

This was the 20 year anniversary of Earth Day and it was a big deal. I built the centerpiece, a huge globe with a poem I wrote about-- what else? The Earth! On the actual day, I volunteered for non-competitive "earth games " with the kids. We had a big parachute that we'd float up and then run across to the other side. There was one particular moment. I was giving the kids turns on the earth ball (a really big ball). I picked the kids up and draped them over the top of the ball. Then, holding them b the feet I would slowly roll them over the ball until they could touch the grass with wiggling fingertips. They would ooh and ah, screams and giggles of delight. It was a beautiful day to be outside, but playing with the kids is what made it special. We were trying to give them a fun connection to "nature." It didn't take much. They would stretch out little fingers and wiggle them in the grass like they'd never touched grass before. I felt content, and grateful to be part of this simple and joyful experience.
 

Warrarwe, Northern Queensland Rainforest; Australia: 

Out of much beauty and wonder there were two particular mornings. One was watching a little family of platypus emerge from their nest. The swam in a row, mommy in front. All I could hear was the swish swish of their little paddle fins. Joy at the sight nearly screamed out of me, but there i was breathless and still. Another morning, as I walked from the cabin to the bathroom to brush my teeth I encountered another little creature. Walking alone along a narrow path through dense morning fog and the first rays of day, a paddymelon hopped across the trail, stopped, looked at me, and hopped along his merry way. More silent screams of joy. Dead silence.
 

The Routeburn Trail, South Island; New Zealand: 

Shortly after my divorce, I spent two weeks hiking the "Great Walks." After two days at a steep incline with a heavy pack we reached the peak. I'm not sure how high it was, but the clouds were beneath us. I stood alone at the edge for a long time. looking over the lush, wet wilderness. At that pinnacle, I became aware of my life shifting, my direction turning. I felt wise--no, I felt wisdom. Peace at last.

categories of friendship

Some friends are tough and others accept
Both can be true, 
both hurt, both help

The tough friends drive you to be better; they inspire you,
see your potential.
Yet, they are easily disappointed, for they know what you are capable of
 
Accepting friends comfort you, indulge you, cheer you up
remind you that the cycle will change, 
this too will pass

There will always be someone more beautiful more clever
kinder, wittier, gentler

I could be more beautiful more clever
kinder, wittier, gentler

(and am often reminded)

would you love me anyway-
should you love me anyway

I resent those that were too indulgent in their assessments and
those that were too objective.

What would it mean to take someone to task,
push them but not push them away, 
accept someone, love them, yet
refrain from becoming an accessory to stagnation?

What form does the responsibility of friendship take?

What are its limits?

we need to touch base

Who do you think you are?

This is the first thing out of my mouth. It is my lecture covering Alasdair MacIntyre's "The Storytelling Animal." A couple of them shuffle through the lecture notes from last class, presumably looking for some hint indicating the correct way to answer. Others look at me with moon faced expectation, waiting for me to tell them the answer, pens at the ready. I try to hide the inner teacher-trickster, Mwa-ha-ha. I really do love messing with their heads. You won't get answers in my class, just more questions.

I pass out index cards, and ask them to tell me the story of a particular experience they've had that in some way made them who they are today. I give them 5 minutes.

After the five minutes, I begin my lecture; I will come back to the stories; I'm counting on past experience that almost all of them will exemplify the role of relationships in forming self-identity. Usually one or two at most tell a story that doesn't involve another person. We become ourselves though our relationships with others.

This is one of my favorite lecture/discussions. Michael walks in late (20 minutes, at least). He plunks down into a desk, doesn't remove his coat or open his backpack. He sits there looking at me. I continue without comment, but I am thinking that I need to talk to this kid. He comes in late and leaves immediately, so I'll have to say something in front of the class. He seems miserable and disconnected--not just bored.

I get to the part where they tell their stories. I love this part. One student describes her grandfather taking the last bowl of soup to make sure everyone else gets enough to eat first. He taught her to be generous. One student describes getting harassed by the police for having baggy jeans and being a Black fifteen year old on the upper east side. He was getting off the subway for a basketball game with his team. They were stopped, searched, questioned, and held long enough that they missed the game. He is going to be a police commissioner and change things.

I ask Michael for a story, although I know he hasn't written anything down and missed the prompt. I repeat the prompt. He can't think of anything. I try to elicit something. He's stumped. I say I will come back to him. I do. He's still got nothing. Will you stay after class a few minutes, we need to touch base. I'm afraid I've embarrassed him.

After the 5 or 6 students with questions leave, I ask. He pulls out a card and says proudly, I thought of something? He thinks that will get him off the hook. How are you doing? Is everything OK? I hope he sees my concern. He's OK, working two jobs and very tired. You seem unhappy. Is there anything I can help you with? No, but his face softens. He really appreciates me asking him that. He just doesn't want to be in college; he's doing it for his mother. It's just not for him. I'm a good teacher (quickly says, Professor, I mean); he doesn't have time to do the readings and he doesn't have computer access at home to do the blogs. He writes poetry. It would help if he could write the blogs by hand. I am weakened by his desire to be a poet and his respect for his mother. I will allow it.

When he leaves, I read his card. He was jumped by a gang in his neighborhood last year. Since then he's learned to wear a mask, so as not to appear weak. Keep a tough front. Never smile.