Walking the Wall

I was turning 27 when I drove up a half hour to our community college to sign up for my first semester classes–I cried all the way home. I know how that sounds: mushy, sentimental, silly, gaggy. But the truth is, I cried all the way home. Joseph Campbell wrote a great deal about following your bliss–it’s become a bit of a catch phrase. Bliss is defined as “Identifying that pursuit which you are truly passionate about and attempting to give yourself absolutely to it. In so doing, you will find your fullest potential and serve your community to the greatest possible extent.” He said about it: “If you do follow your bliss you put yourself on a kind of trac that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living.”

For me, going to college to pursue literature and writing was following what I was truly passionate about–and 11 long years later as I come to the end of the first part of my degree seeking (bachelors degree), it is something that I am even more passionate about. Yes, it has taken a long time, and yes, I tell my daughter to do what I say and not what I did–get that degree first, then get married and have children. Still, I don’t regret this slower path because I have an appreciation for my education that I may not have had before and the luxury of knowing exactly what I want which I probably didn’t have at 18 years old.

Last Tuesday I went through interviews for getting a graduate assistantship and the questions only renewed that sense of purpose and of being where I am supposed to be, working towards doing what I am supposed to be doing. Wednesday, I received my formal acceptance into graduate school and while I didn’t cry all the way from the mailbox–there was the same sense of rightness and of doing what I should be doing that I felt 11 years ago.

There are many other choices I could have made, and considered making, that might have made me more money, more security, more options–but I knew that I would be in my early 40s when I would be shifting fully into that new career. By most people’s definition of living a long life, I would be going into the “second half of the rest of my life” and I wanted to be doing something that was important to me, that had value, that had me following my bliss.

Now I just need to get through the rest of this semester when motivation becomes an act of digging deep and summer break is looking like the real bliss!

The neighborhood shook with my screams of excitement when my husband came home from a long trip to Florida for work with my first iPod a few years ago. Actually, it was an iPod mini, 6 gig (of course I took a picture of it!)–he doesn’t know a great deal about technology (that’s my niche in our family unit) and was disappointed it wasn’t the color screen he thought it was. The next day he took himself off to rectify that and came back with a 30gig Photo (as pictured above to the left). My husband really understands to not bother with diamonds and bring on the toys!

To say that my iPod Photo was well used is an extreme understatement–it was used every day off and on all day long. Music in the kitchen, music in the bathroom getting ready, meditation music late at night, audible books and more music in the car on the way to school, yoga music and dance around the house with my daughter and sing at the top of my lungs music. It is most certainly my most prized possession which I should probably feel guilty about on some level of attachment but I love it too much to feel guilty.

My friend Liz killed it.

Okay, that might be a bit of an extreme statement–perhaps she just happened to be there PUSHING BUTTONS OVER AND OVER EVEN THOUGH IT WAS FROZEN when it happened to die. I got the iPod frowny face of doom and was up until 4am trying to repair it. By the next day I had tried everything recommended other than dropping it from the recommended by some10 feet. I was amazed to find that there are actually many forum threads devoted to the art of dropping your iPod when the hard drive goes. That morning my husband took matters into his own hand and dropped it on our hard wood floor–twice, for good measure. It started working again, all hail the internet! However, it only works intermittently and crunches and crackles as the hard drive spins and doesn’t cooperate well when hooked to the computer. The end of an Era.

Luckily I had planned to sell my Palm Tungsten E (it is on its way to a good home with my friend) and had saved a bit with the plan to get a Blackberry or some form of phone/pda combo. My husband, perhaps in an act of self preservation, took me out to the store that morning to look at the new incarnations of iPods with me being torn between the cute, square iPod Nano 8 gig and the gorgeous iPod Touch. I won’t give you a play by play as the suspense is already ruined by the picture at the top of the post but I walked out the door with an iPod Touch 8gig. Then given that my graduation after 11 long years is near and my husband believes the bigger the better, 20 minutes later I walked back out with an iPod Touch 16gig. So instead of a phone/pda combo I have an ipod/pda combo and it is a thing of great beauty.

Thank you, Liz, for killing my iPod.

One of Thich Nhat Hanh’s most beautiful and powerful poems is Call Me By My True Names, I had forgotten about another older by a Celtic poet and druid Amerigin that is very similar. I heard it on a Speaking of Faith podcast called The Inner Landscape of Beauty about John O’Donohue and was struck with how alike the concepts are:

I am the wind on the sea.
I am the ocean wave.
I am the sound of the billows.
I am the seven-horned stag.
I am the hawk on the cliff.
I am the dewdrop in sunlight.
I am the fairest of flowers.
I am the raging boar.
I am the salmon in the deep pool.
I am the lake on the plain.
I am the meaning of the poem.
I am the point of the spear.
I am the god that makes fire in the head.
Who levels the mountain?
Who speaks the age of the moon?
Who has been where the sun sleeps?
Who, if not I?

Years ago I read Isabel Allende’s Eva Luna and fell in love with her beautiful and lyrical style of writing and it became definitive to me for what magical realism is at its strongest. While arguing that there is a difference between fantasy and imagination, she defines imagination as the exaltation of reality–which in an of itself is a beautiful definition. She seems to be a bit at odds with her books being labeled as magical realism, though I’m not sure why. Regardless, she notes that the only element of it found in Daughter of Fortune, which I just finished, is the ghostly visitations of Tao’s wife Lin and she explains that it isn’t so much an element of fantasy but of another person’s reality:

In his culture, in the time that he lived, the idea of ghosts was ordinary, was completely real, so real that there were amulets in the houses so that spirits would not appear to you; there were streets where you couldn’t walk, etc. So in his culture, ghosts were perfectly possible. No American characters, for example, those who came to the Gold Rush in Daughter of Fortune, have any experiences of that sort because they live in a reality different from that of Tao Chi’en. What is reality? A combination of daily “reality” with a reality that is experienced in another manner?

This is a theme that runs through the book–the idea of cultural and even personal reality–and it is one I remember strongly from Eva Luna. She seems to work a lot with the idea that we all not only have personal stories, but are actively engaged in writing and rewriting our stories in ways that are often beautiful and strong–and sometimes in ways that are restricting and unhealthy. And really it goes a step further in that the stories we are writing and rewriting shape what reality is–so in a culture in which it is a shared reality that dead relations visit from beyond the grave, it comes about that ghosts truly exist on some level. Anyway, it is a beautifully written book and didn’t disappoint at all.

I’ve struggled to find a space that feels right for meditation this winter. In the late summer and early fall I found peace to meditate out on our three season porch with my candles and the sounds of falling water from our fountain–breezes from the windows and the smell of roses. Once the cold drove me inside I never quite found a space and I think that has had much to do with my stuttering progress. Our living room is large and open and I always had the feeling of someone about to walk in even late in the night.

There is a nook, though, that is created by our couch setting in front of my large book case, bounded by either side by the side of the fireplace and the door out to the porch. I was kneeling there this morning putting some books in order and I thought–this is it. Kneeling down in the space is peaceful to me–the books, the bricks of the fireplace, the perfect low ledge large enough for three candles (my number for balance) and two small gifted wooden bowls from good friends–one holding a small set of wooden mala beads I strung and the other filled with bits of shell, a heart shape rock, sand from Hawaii given me by a friend, coral my son found me, and more. I pulled out my meditation bench, lit my candles, fired up my iPod with a 6 minute meditation track (which I normally fidget through of late) and started practicing loving kindness meditation (from the metta sutra). In no time at all the music stopped and I was shocked that it was over all ready and I continued to follow my breathing for longer yet. Tomorrow I’ll definitely ease up to the 10 minute song.

Now I know that sounds like a blink of an eye to many people who meditate or pray, but I’ve really struggled not to fidget and mind wander and feel relaxed–the 6 min/10 min/ 20 min meditation tracks help me as I let go of the need to wonder about time and having a space that felt right seemed to really flip a switch, so to speak. I remember even when growing up hearing people talk about the benefit of “prayer closets” to step outside of daily life to a space set apart for prayer–this would be the same concept. There is something about routine, even ritual, that is calming–kneeling, striking the match, lighting the candle–and having a small space set aside for that creates a sense of sacred space. Joseph Campbell wrote, “Every sacred place is the place where Eternity shines through Time.”  I think people consciously or unconsciously set up up sacred spaces and even rituals–Friday night dinner dates with partners or friends, Sunday meals, movie or game nights, the yearly hunt for the perfect Christmas tree or pumpkin, morning email and/or blog reading all become rituals that serve to ground  us in the life we are living right this moment and at that moment eternity shines through.

“It is courage, courage, courage, that raises the blood of life to crimson splendor. Live bravely and present a brave front to adversity.” ~Horace

I heard that on February 4th the song Across the Universe by the Beatles was being beamed into space on its 40th anniversary. The next day the movie came out on DVD and it was a long awaited release by my husband who is a huge Beatles fan. I have to confess that I never really appreciated the Beatles until I fell in love with the I Am Sam soundtrack (I love “Two of Us” with Aimee Mann, “Across the Universe” with Rufus Wainright, and “Black Bird” with Sarah McLachlan–all gorgeous) Anyway, I’ve already mentioned before that I have a weakness for musicals that ties back to growing up without a television, rented movie reels from the library, and hours spent with a record player. Combine all this with an obsession geared at the Vietnam war and the fate of POWs during junior high and highschool which resulted in a scrapbook full of war poetry–and it all balls up together and makes me a perfect target for the Across the Universe movie.

I’ve watched it twice and I think it is gorgeous and sad and, yes, a bit corny–most importantly, I love the music. I know it recieved mixed reviews coming out and I guess I understand that, Beatles or not, a musical is a musical is a musical. But did I mention the music? The whole soundtrack is great (there are two [technically three] one with only 16 songs, I think the deluxe is well worth the download) but a couple favorites:

• Let it Be with Carol Woods, Timothy T. Mitchum and church choir, sung in context of Vietnam and the Detroit riots, absolutely beautifully rendered (youtube version with no video clip spoiler)
  • “And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree,
    there will be an answer, let it be.
    For though they may be parted there is still a chance that they will see,
    there will be an answer. let it be.”
• If I Fell with Evan Rachel Wood, lovely
• While My Guitar Gently Weeps with Martin Luther McCoy, simply gorgeous–I’ve never heard the original
• Hey Jude with Joe Anderson, simple and real, love it
• All You Need is Love with Jim Sturgess, really, I liked everything he sang, he was very believable

There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done.
Nothing you can sing that can’t be sung.
Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game
It’s easy.
There’s nothing you can make that can’t be made.
No one you can save that can’t be saved.
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be in time
It’s easy.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
There’s nothing you can know that isn’t known.
Nothing you can see that isn’t shown.
Nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be.
It’s easy.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
All you need is love (all together now)
All you need is love (everybody)
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.

by John Lennon

These are just the books that I’m currently reading or just finished up so they were handy to snap a photo of: Teachings of the Buddha edited by Jack Kornfield, Buddhism Without Beliefs by Stephen Batchelor, Night by Elie Wiesel, The Heartsong of Charging Elk by James Welch, and Creating True Peace by Thich Nhat Hanh