Cafe Helix
Wednesday, January 31, 2001
I've not blogged for a while. There's much a-brewin' that's keeping me away.
I'm confident that the preparation will pay off - will tell you the good news when it comes.
I did see Chocolat last weekend. Magnifique! I loved it and want to see it again. Beautiful.
A couple of links:
how the government spends our money
bitch slap
Sunday, January 14, 2001
My maternal grandfather, John Whyte, passed on Monday evening, January 8, from a heart attack. He was 83. He was a great man, and well loved. I love him very much and miss him a lot, although it's strange: I feel like he's still with me, perhaps just over my shoulder. Our family is adjusting, in the time it takes to adjust. The first couple of days were the hardest for me, when the grief was the strongest. Grief is hard work. I spent those initial days at home, away from the office. I read a lot, cried at lot, prayed a lot, and thought a lot about life and death. Books that I found helpful were: the Book of Job, parts of Peace is Every Step by Thich Nhat Hanh and When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chödrön, and the chapter on death from Faith and Practice from the 1998 edition of the Book of Discipline (to use the traditional terminology) of the New York Yearly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends. Each book had something different to offer. Here are some passages that I found particularly helpful:
From Peace is Every Step:
If we face our unpleasant feelings with care, affection, and nonviolence, we can transform them into the kind of energy that is healthy and has the capacity to nourish us. By the work of mindful observation, our unpleasant feelings can illuminate into ourselves and society.
I found that sitting with my feelings, comforting them, taking care of them as if they were a small child, and calming them down made them easier to handle and eventually to let them go. To be mindful at times like this can help transform ourselves, allowing us to see deeper into ourselves and into humanity. I felt that in my grieving and the sorrow I've experienced, I was connected to a part of humanity that I had never really been a part of. I now have a level of understanding I didn't have previously, and it has expanded me and made me more compassionate.
Through When Things Fall Apart, I learned about Tonglen:Tonglen practice is a method for connecting with suffering - our own and that which is all around us, everywhere we go. It is a method for overcoming our fear of suffering and for dissolving the tightness in our hearts. Primarily it is a method for awakening the compassion that is inherent in all of us, no matter how cruel or cold we might seem to be.
As part of meditation practice, tonglen involves breathing in others' pain (including our own) and then breathing out, sending relaxation or whatever we feel would bring them relief and happiness. Though my time with tonglen, I found this passage to be true: "In the process, we become liberated from very ancient patterns of selfishness. We begin to feel love for both ourselves and others; we beging to take care of ourselves and others. Tonglen awakens our compassion and introduces us to a far bigger view of reality. By doing the practice, we begin to connect with the open dimension of our being."
The Quakers have a healthy view on death. Dealing openly with the painful feelings involved in grieving are encouraged along to their completion. Such emotions are a healthy reaction.
Death often faces us with the most difficult of questions, yet it may be the occasion of our most profound insights into the meanings of life...God's sustaining power can bring to all concerned not only courage but a transforming Truth about death and life itself. Although life instinctively avoids death, death is not the opposite of life. It is essential to the ongoing, changing nature of life.
I liked what William Penn wrote in Some Fruits of Solitude, 1693:
And this is the Comfort of the Good,
that the Grave cannot hold them,
and that they live as soon as they die.
For Death is no more
than a turning of us over from time to eternity.
Death, then, being the way and condition of life,
we cannot love to live,
if we cannot bear to die.
They that love beyond the World, cannot be separated by it.
Death cannot kill what never dies.
Nor can Spirits ever be divided
that love and live in the same Divine Principle,
the Root and Record of their Friendship.
If Absence be not Death, neither is theirs.
My faith has helped me immensely. I couldn't get through this difficult time without it. My belief in God has given me only strength, for which I'm grateful. I want to thank my dear friends for their love and support during this time of transition. I love you all.
Monday, January 08, 2001
The Infinity Project is really, really neat. Glassware artist Josh Simpson creates "planets" made of silica and has been placing them throughout the world over the years. Simpson's planets dot seven continents and three of the seven seas; they will remain there for centuries until someone finds them. For 2001, he will give two planets (one to keep and one to hide) inscribed with the infinity symbol, to anyone who writes to tell him why, when, and where they want to place a planet. He will choose one person per month for all of 2001, and will post about their adventures as well. I think this is a great project. His glassware is beautiful, and these planets and the idea behind them are as well. [via metafilter]
Right now, I'm listening to Spain's record "The Blue Moods of Spain." It's a wonderfully mellow record - I once read a comment about them that essentially said, "Spain makes the Cowboy Junkies sound like a speed metal band." I think that's a fairly accurate assessment. Here is a good review of Spain's debut record.
So, it's a new year, a new millennium. We're in the third millennium, a designation that I find a bit bizarre, but nonetheless true. I took a bunch of time off work, which was great; I certainly needed the break. I visited family in Ventura (southern California) for Christmas, came back to Berkeley for New Years. I loved relaxing down there, spending time with family, watching movies, walking on the beach. I reconnected with some cousins, which I'm very happy about! My New Year's Eve was fantastic, spending the evening at Ashkenaz dancing to balkan music. Great bands, great people, fun all around. I was particularly charmed by the rendition of the opening to "Also sprach Zarathustra" right before midnight, played on balkan instruments, so fitting for the beginning of 2001. Then we drank champagne and danced some more. I ended up leaving at 2:30am and things were still going. I can't think of any other place I would rather have been on New Year's Eve, than there. It was perfect.
Not that I have made "resolutions" per se, but I do have some goals for the year. They include:
Keeping up my correspondence more consistently
Savoring all sorts of experiences instead of just going through them
Not get so tense in traffic and bad parking situations
Spend more time outdoors
Visit the Pacific Northwest
Tell my friends and family I love them more often
Further develop my spiritual sense
Make major changes in my musical life
I think it's a manageable list.
I wish you all a joyful, peaceful, and exhilarating year full of adventure!
