Saturday, June 18, 2011

"Complete abstinance is easier than perfect moderation." - Saint Augustine

Moderation
photo courtesty of Elsa Mora's Blog
brahmacharya (moderation) in its strictest definition is a vow of celibacy or the restraining from all sexual activity in body, thought and word however its broader definition means to honor and respect the universal human limit/capacity, the limits of consuming/doing, a non-grasping attitude toward all activities. it is hard to practice moderation in a culture based on extremes  where quickness and speed and mass accumulation of money and of things (especially “new” things) are valued. when we feel empty inside or spiritually empty we try to fill ourselves up with money, food, relationship, sex, TV. we can even become addicted/attached to filling ourselves up with things that are “good” for us too. anything that is outside of self can become a vehicle to which we become attached or on which we rely to feel good or “disconnect” from inside of ourselves. whenever we do this it means we are bolting and running away from ourselves. abandoning our poor little selves on a street curb somewhere while we jump in a fast shiny red corvette in a relentless pursuit to “feel better” by escaping our bodies, our minds - our  own shit. 

as Chogyam Trungpa says “We have a fear of facing ourselves. That is the obstacle. Experiencing the innermost core of our existence is very embarrassing to a lot of people. A lot of people turn to something that they hope will liberate them without their having to face themselves. That is impossible. We can't do that. We have to be honest with ourselves. We have to see our gut, our excrement, our most undesirable parts. We have to see them. That is the foundation of warriorship, basically speaking. Whatever is there, we have to face it, we have to look at it, study it, work with it and practice meditation with it.”

it's hard to face our shit. so instead, we try to feel high and happy (sex, food, shopping) without ever being with ourselves. we numb ourselves from the pain because we think that if we looked at  - truly looked at  - our past hurts, failures, mistakes, unconscious behaviors, that we would internally combust. but, as Geneen Roth points out in her book Lost and Found, the thing about numbing is... we can't selectively numb. we can't just numb out the bad stuff. in numbing ourselves we numb out the good stuff too so that we don't actually ever get to fully have what we have. for example, have you ever eaten an entire bag of chips without ever letting yourself fully taste just one chip? tasted the salt, the oil, smelled its smell, licked it, felt the texture on your tongue?

the other thing about moderation is that we can never get enough of what we didn’t want in the first place. i can’t practice moderation with food if i believe that a piece of chocolate cake will bring me freedom, self-love and self-acceptance. the piece of chocolate cake can never do that for me, even if i ate the ENTIRE cake i still wouldn’t be any happier… in fact, i would be more unhappy and in physical pain.  moderation is difficult, yes, but moderation is impossible when we believe that something outside of ourselves will bring us true peace and happiness. moderation is difficult for me because i often forget that the only way past my issues is to face them head-on and go through them myself (not around them, over them or flying past them via the vehicle to which I am attached.) 

the good thing about moderation is that it's also good to be moderate about moderation. as Saint Augustine noted in the quote in the title of this post, it's easier to completely abstain from something than it is to learn moderation with it.  but since we are human beings and not ethereal angels, it's impossible to abstain from life. living life and enjoying life requires that we be present in life and feel. 

we'll never be perfect. moderation and learning balance is an art form. in france they call it l'équilibre (lay-kee-lee-bray). isn't that beautiful? l'équilibre is a daily practice of constant tweaking, giving and taking. it doesn't happen overnight and it's difficult, which is why we need to be ever so patient and ever so kind to ourselves as we learn it. it is not something, in our culture, that is taught. in fact, the opposite of moderation is hardwired into our brains through media from birth. so our job is to feel all of life, to try as best as we can to pay attention to ourselves and to our actions, to enjoy what we are doing when we are doing it, and to realize that often times just being with ourselves and tuning into our breath will provide us with what it is we actually wanted - which is to be there for and with ourselves. 

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Thursday Mystery: The Suburban Banksy

for a while i thought this said "TO THE END OF RECONNECTING" until i got close to it

a picture of a picture of a blackberry taken with my blackberry


i like to think of these as velveteen rabbits... "Real isn't how you are made. It's a thing that happens to you. It doesn't happen all at once. You become." - The Velveteen Rabbit
sorry. had to find a way to get that Velveteen Rabbit quote in here at some point.

but back to the mystery... who is the Banksy of the 'Burbs? i don't know him but i love him. and love that he makes my mornings waiting for the train that much more interesting. i don't know if any of you have seen the documentary "Exit Through the Gift Shop" yet, but if you haven't... STOP READING RIGHT NOW AND ORDER IT ONTO YOUR NETFLIX QUEUE. or download it on itunes. or just watch the trailer on youtube or whatever.


the documentary was supposed to be about Banksy, the elusive and anonymous England-based graffiti artist known for his black and white stencil-style street art that usually contains a powerful socio-political-economic message, but... Banksy flipped the cameras around on his eccentric French-born filmmaker, Thierry Guetta (an obsessive camera-man who followed and filmed graffiti artists on their nightly excursions over the course of many years for what seems to be no apparent reason whatsoever.) the whole thing is wacky, hilarious, and like any good story about a European expat - winding, logically insensible, relatively inconclusive but wildly entertaining.

and while we may never know who the Suburban Banksy is, the real question is... will he or she keep spreading their message? 

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

"One thing about music is when it hits you, you feel no pain." - Bob Marley

click here to buy a Purdy t-shirt like mine


Joey Ryan and Kenneth Pattengale








delicious raspberry beer






brace yourself, folks. this is gonna be a long one.

i've been a Joe Purdy fan for about 6 years now. i have every single one of his cd's and can listen to his songs repeatedly without ever getting sick of them. i first discovered his music during a sad time in my life, and every single time i heard his voice and his music, i felt less alone. (before Joe made it "big" he was a highschool guidance counselor and worked on the loading docks. i suspect his background in counseling might have something to do with his therapeutic touch through the stories he tells, even if it's unintentional.) you know it's good-for-you music when your heart actually feels like it's being nourished and fed. when someone else is able to express for you your secret story in words and in sounds that were buried deep within your being all along. when your whole soul screams "hallelujah! yes! that's it! that's exactly how it feels!!!" so when i saw that he was coming to philly to play at World Cafe Live, i couldn't buy my ticket fast enough.

the night was better than anything i could have ever dreamed up. the show started at 8 with Kenneth Pattengale and Joey Ryan of  The Milk Carton Kids opening with songs from their cd "Retrospect" (you can download the cd for free here.) my favorite songs of their set were 'Queen Jane,' 'Charlie,' 'Girls Gather Round' and 'Like a Cloak.' then Joe came on to play songs  from his newest cd "4th of July." Joe's use of the piano, fiddle, acoustic guitar, mandolin and harmonica were soulful and somber, at times filled with aching angst and at times playful and full of his unique, folksy Arkansas twang. i was happy. i was mesmerized, riveted, stirred, fascinated, and calmed. or as the famous 1980's semi-ironic saying goes (actually come to think of it, wasn't the entire decade of the 80's semi-ironic?) - "i laughed, i cried, it was better than Cats."

 Kenneth and Joey came back on stage to sing back up with Joe as well as play bass/guitar (by Joey or "JR" as Joe calls him) and mandolin, piano, banjo, pedal steel guitar, acoustics and something that looked like a tiny piano and sounded like an organ (by Kenneth.) throughout the night i sipped on Lambio Framboise (a belgian raspberry beer) and cinnamon orange spice tea. i also had about 3 cups of water. over the course of a 4 hour show i only went to the bathroom ONCE which is a holy miracle if you know me. my bladder is this big --> ()  actually, it's more of a testament to how thoroughly enchanted i was by these three men. even though my bladder did feel like it was going to burst, i did not want to miss a single note of any of the songs they performed. after a bravo performance where Joe played a few songs by request (sadly, he did not play my 'Canyon Joe' and 'Mary May & Bobby' requests) but he still blew me away with 'Sinking Low' and - for a smashing finale - 'Ode to Sad Clown.'  i should mention here that i considered quitting my job and becoming his full-time groupie/band-aid atleast fifteen times. i don't mean "groupie/band-aid" in the sense you might be thinking. i mean, i could maybe be a back-up dancer in a flowy skirt?  but in all seriousness, i could spend every single day for the rest of my life sitting on a dusty backstage floor if it meant i could hear this man sing and play his music. am i being dramatic? yes, admittedly, i am.

after the show while waiting around for people to pitter out so i could meet Joe while buying my t-shirt, i got to talk to JR and Kenneth. i told them they needed to come to play at the Milkboy Cafe in Ardmore and they informed me that they would actually be returning to philly to play at the Tin Angel sometime this fall. i then snuck back into the auditorium and got to talk to Joe himself!!!!!! i told him how much his music has meant to me over the years and he was truly the most gracious man i've ever met. we talked for a good twenty to thirty minutes about documentaries we've both seen (he told me that "Be Here to Love Me" made him cry his eyes out... yes. this man admitted to crying his eyes out. to a stranger. do you see why i love him?), his music inspiration (Townes Van Zandt, Daniel Johnston), how he recently performed with Joseph Arthur and where he should play next time he is in philly. overall the night was surreal - i got to spend a glorious 4 hours listening to the kind of music that heals my soul, and i got  to meet and talk to my favorite musician. did i also mention that i went to this show all by myself? even though i was alone, i did not feel insecure or lonely because all that mattered to me was hearing Joe Purdy's music live. it's amazing what unexpected wonders await us when we follow our heart and are open to experiencing new things. life can be delightful.  im still swooning and swirling with starstruck-sickness (and also running on 3 hours of sleep.) but it was worth it.




Tuesday, June 14, 2011

The Secret to Healing: Grief Work



photo courtesy of weatherreport.com


For Grief

When you lose someone you love,
Your life becomes strange,
The ground beneath you becomes fragile,
Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;
And some dead echo drags your voice down
Where words have no confidence
Your heart has grown heavy with loss;
And though this loss has wounded others too,
No one knows what has been taken from you
When the silence of absence deepens.

Flickers of guilt kindle regret
For all that was left unsaid or undone.

There are days when you wake up happy;
Again inside the fullness of life,
Until the moment breaks
And you are thrown back
Onto the black tide of loss.
Days when you have your heart back,
You are able to function well
Until in the middle of work or encounter,
Suddenly with no warning,
You are ambushed by grief.

It becomes hard to trust yourself.
All you can depend on now is that
Sorrow will remain faithful to itself.
More than you, it knows its way
And will find the right time
To pull and pull the rope of grief
Until that coiled hill of tears
Has reduced to its last drop.

Gradually, you will learn acquaintance
With the invisible form of your departed;
And when the work of grief is done,
The wound of loss will heal
And you will have learned
To wean your eyes
From that gap in the air
And be able to enter the hearth
In your soul where your loved one
Has awaited your return
All the time.

John O’Donohue

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Horsing Around

(play the song while scrolling through the pictures!)






inside the arena
blood red dahlia at the terrain booth

terrain booth






beautiful blogger in action

yummy gazpacho



anthropologie booth

someday...

how cool is this chair?
check out this stallion giving me the side-eye















Romper: anthropologie (no longer available), Sneaks: UO (Similar), Bag: Cole Haan






on Memorial Day Monday, my friend Aly and I went to the Devon Horseshow. it was hotter than Hades and I was sweating like a hostage even in my cotton romper. we cooled off with some delicious gazpacho soup, greek yogurt with blueberries and granola, and of course... lemonsticks! when I was younger, I used to work at the Horseshow with my sister selling the lemonsticks with our family friends. lemonsticks are the perfect metaphor for nostalgic memories, they are puckeringly bitter but also sweet.

we had a lot of fun walking around to each of the horse stables to say hello to the horses. I used to be so scared of horses - they are huge and powerful! - but now I find their strength to be beautiful. one of them looked sad and Aly's remark that "maybe he lost?" made me burst into laughter. my favorite parts of the day were riding the ferris wheel (I haven't been on one since the 4th grade when I spent the entire time at the Family Fun Fair wishing my gradeschool crush would ask me to ride it with him... which he never did), getting a ladybug paint-tattoo, seeing the horses up-close and laughing with Aly. something about summertime begs us to get back in touch with the best parts of our inner 10 year old.

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Close Encounters with the Furry Kind

credit pul.se


on my way home from walking to visit my friend who works at the bakery down the road, i decided to take the back way through a quiet street behind my house around a wooded area. there i am just minding my own business, la-dee-da taking a nice Saturday stroll when all of the sudden i hear a strange spitting and clicking noise to my left. i look down to see a rabbid raccoon 2 inches from my feet looking similar to the picture above. let me tell you something, i ran faster than green grass goes through a goose. i don't think i've ever run that fast in my life. well, ok maybe not since highschool lacrosse tryouts.

luckily, i was not hurt (except for only some minor shock to my lungs who haven't seen that kind of action since '06) and went on with my day. then, as i am pulling out of my driveway later in the afternoon (this time safely protected inside of a car) i see a furry brown ball rolling around convulsing in the lawn in our backyard. at first i thought it was the neighbor's cat, Tigger, but then I think to myself...wait a minute, since when was Tigger brown with black stripes? (Tigger is grey with white stripes.) clearly Rocky Raccoon was back and hot on my trail.

so naturally i call my dad. he'll know what to do, i think. he doesn't answer. (i should mention here that he was out golfing.) so then the following text message conversation proceeds:

dad: something up?
me: rabbid raccoon in backyard
dad: call township

apparently 411 doesn't have our township on file. or our township doesn't have a phone line. i'm not sure which, but in any case i decide that 911 would most likely be able to connect me to the township... you know how this ends right? well 911 was pretty serious and i was trying very hard to convince them it was NOT an emergency only a minor issue with a possibly rabbid raccoon in my backyard and could they maybe connect me to the township? nope, instead they send 2 officers out who then call me, laughing, telling me that this is really a call for animal control and the only thing they could do is "destroy" the animal. not sure why they chose the word "destroy." destroy? i thought wouldn't they just send him to the vet? i obviously decided not to take action. i was hoping Rocky would maybe eat a few dandelion greens, flush those Rabies right out. (ok, i admit i am being cute here.) but i will pray for Rocky tonight as i go to sleep as well as any other living creature who is suffering.

and, your award for reading this entire post? ...Rocky Raccoon - duh!




Thursday, June 2, 2011

Books on a Train (not Snakes on a Plane)

image courtesy booksamillion.com

on the train yesterday while reading Elizabeth Gilbert's "Committed" an older gentleman leaned over and asked me,

"excuse me, i don't mean to pry but... what are you reading? you seem to be enjoying it very much."

he was right. i was enjoying it very much. i actually threw my head back in laughter about five times...( Elizabeth Gilbert is funny, people.) to answer his question, i gave him the title and author name. when he looked at me in a way that engaged me to expand on it further, i told him it was written by a woman who had been through an excruciatingly painful divorce and who decided before remarrying that she would research the psychosocial, political, religious and economic history of the instituition of marriage in the Western world and attempt to make peace with it, he looked at me quizzically. here i was a 23 year old reading an in-depth book about marriage... and thoroughly enjoying it.

this is the third time an older man on the train has asked me what i am reading. not because they are finding some sneaky way to hit on me, but because i think they are genuinely curious. the first time it happened i was reading Geneen Roth's "Women, Food and God" and the man sitting beside me kept glancing over and reading it out of the corner of his eye. midway through our train ride he asked me about the book and i gladly gave him a small snapshot of it. after our brief conversation before my stop, he pulled out his planner and scribbled down the title and the author and said he would be recommending it for his wife. (just to be clear, the book isn't only for women and Roth points out in the beginning that it very well could be titled "Men, TV and God" or "Men, Sex and God." in fact, as it turns out, it's part of the human condition to use and abuse things outside of ourselves in order to placate our emotions, to run away from our feelings and to essentially "disconnect" from the uncomfortableness of being a messy human being. and no, men are not immune to that.)

im not sure if these men were surprised to see a young woman who was not furiously tapping away at her blackberry (which i do sometimes), but rather, who was enjoying a book with a deeply contented smile and deeply nourished look on her face (which is what i don't look like when i am furiously tapping away at my blackberry.) i don't know and i may never know what ever became of these encounters. i may never know if they ever recommended the book to their wives, their daughters, their sisters. i dont know if their wives or daughters or sisters ever read them, or if they themselves ever read them. i have been given book reccomendations (sadly, even books) many times in my life that i never read or even remembered after the conversation was over. but what i do know is this: the gentle curiosity with which these men approached me in these quick encounters was always heartwarming and reaffirming. because of their ability to overcome their diffidence and ask a question with humility, suddenly two complete strangers separated by generations and by gender start talking about some pretty complicated stuff: marriage, food, addiction, vulnerability. and with any luck, both are left feeling touched by the encounter in a good way.