First, before I read, I love this, especially those horrible words. After spending my career in education and pursuing too many advanced degrees, you made me laugh. I used to claim that I don't speak the academese, though, of course, I do. I just wanted to see if the presenter could come simply to the point. Simplicity was the language they didn't speak.
Agreed. I resorted to requiring my students to present mind-maps / concept maps. Worked wonders. (But my academese is among the worst. Poetry is more disciplined. Perhaps!)
Yes, exactly, because good poetry is specific. Academese is lazy and elitist. I think the purpose of having another language is the same as the ridiculously high costs of membership at the country club. And yet, we are all dealing with the human condition...
Very nice. I love it. You make me think of those nature documentaries a teacher I had once used to show us when we were on silent retreats - the evening's entertainment, so to speak. You remind me of the doc on birds and the complex mating rituals and nest-building techniques that different species perform. It brought our own rituals into a different focus. We are the birds, doing ridiculous things to follow the demands of DNA, which wants only to survive and replicate.
Thank you. While I was writing this response (which started off as a response to 'anti-mimetics' !!!!!! and rapidly escaped into poetry ...) I ruminated (as one does) on writing and it's similarities to bringing 'up' (?) children. Having spent part of my youth paying homage to DNA, I (later on) rediscovered poetry and words, and Shakespeare's nimble shifts from line to line, like Lady Macbeth's "I have given suck ..." and Macbeth's "Tomorrow, and tomorrow" (etc). Now I'm constantly in awe of his creativity - so much so that I have taken to visualise each play on one sheet, and digitalise links, and ... (That'll keep me busy ...)
Ohhh. "I have given suck!" I taught Macbeth for about fifteen years. My favorite speech. I used to show them Liev Schreiber describing how the feminine and masculine endings in certain scenes show who has the power. He was brilliant in the role, but even more, he showed the reason for understanding the poetry and being able to articulate that.. He was in love with the genius as it overtook him for 8 shows a week.
At a conference I attended a few weeks ago, I found myself in a workshop exploring Hamlet, with bottles of shampoo 'standing in' for the characters. Didn't work for me at all.
But then the actors (only four of them, doing the whole play!) turned on (in more than one sense of the word) physical theatre, which opened it all up. I said I was unhappy with a scene they were rehearsing, (with just Hamlet, Rosenkranz and Guildenstern, because it didn't reference the (late) King Hamlet at all. Being a workshop, they imagined playing the same scene, but this time with a 'gilded' portrait of the dead king looking over them. The whole scene changed, as did their 'physical' theatre. What talented players! They could play each scene in so many different ways, instantly. It suddenly came to life. The 'dead' king infused their whole performance.
My best friend always maintained that there were two things she really loved: Giving birth, and making compost (not necessarily in that order.) So she asked to be buried in a wicker coffin, in a woodland burial ground. Which we did. All the better for her body to become compost.
Practical, matter of fact, a gardener to the end ...
Her father, a sailor all his life, asked to be buried at sea. Sadly, she was not invited.
Wow, Roy. That’s beautiful - out of the soil and back to her. My husband and I have decided to become compost. My father asked for his ashes to be scattered at sea. My eldest brother, in his grief, decided that was a moment he needed alone with his father, and didn’t invite any of us along.
Mmmm. I write. all sorts of things. but the most 'vital' ones are the ones that 'I' don't write.
They write 'though' me, so quickly that I have no idea where they come from. but it's not from 'me': but then, who cares? (must be that forest mycelium you were talking about ...)
"We are not really individuals. Instead, we spring from a rhizome, or the root system of an aspen forest, or we fruited from a huge mycelium. More truthfully, we are one individual with many bodies.
2.
"Because now, for me, it’s about the larger culture, which is causing terrible suffering. You can’t heal the individual in isolation. You can’t even heal (their) families in isolation. Culture is the collective ego, and it is undergoing a messy process - right now. Culture is not just a component of the world we can’t change, and must therefore work around.
It mediates our experience of being here, and it comes through us."
Scribbles, on Silence:
1.
sitting up high
on the cliff edge
many miles south
of Inhambane ...
in Mozambique
I watched a school of kingfish
surfing and turning
turning and surfing
all afternoon
as the waves broke
over the rock shelf.
2.
even further north (of Beira) ...
still, twenty foot underwater,
a huge school of magnificent kingfish
danced past my scuba-mask
in a flash ...
3.
sitting in full lotus
next to the dirt road
in the Franchhoek mountains
late one still, crisp, moonlit night
I reached out right across the valley
my soul merged into
the distant mountains.
4.
sitting in full lotus
beneath the oaks
next to Bontevlei lake
one full summer’s day
I slowly lowered myself
into a headstand
then folded my lotus-legs
carefully, against me
like a clam
and relaxed.
(From 'Die Towerberg se Dans' // 'The Dance of the Mountain of Spells.' Forthcoming, sometime ... )
Pleasure (for me) sometimes comes in short lines ... (no puns intended!)
Ditto, your magnificent writing and pics. :)
As one of my / our favourite humans sang: "Take it, take another little piece of my heart, baby. You know you've got it, if it makes you feel good ..."
Mornings and dawn choruses can put a smile on mourning. Enough. Enjoy your day.
Janis was really my partner, Charl's, best virtual buddy (she too had a pitch- perfect voice). I just basked in the joy of the songs she sang.
I did manage to buy her more than one 'mercedes benz' or so, many years later. And she did get taken for a drive, in the meantime, one night, on the highway, headed north, in a friend's newly acquired porsche. Sweet mercies.
I love this Susan!! Embracing death and grief has taught me how to appreciate life. It is a beautiful gift. Thank you for bravely sharing your story and your perspectives. 🩶
It’s the most important thing, IMHO. It’s staring into our faces, yet we pretend it’s not there and look past it, to our detriment. Nothing could ever show you more about life. I love how fearless you are, and the sense of humor with which you look.
There is so much in this essay I'd like to discuss with you. Layers and layers of searching, discovery, healing, then searching, discovery, and more healing. We have to go deep, let go of the fear of death, as it is the "next developmental stage," so wisely put. So many questions. Maybe time to stop questioning as much and just sit and listen. The idea of that kind of silence appeals to me at this stage of the game called my life. Previously, I found the idea of a silent retreat horrifying. Now, I can visualize myself in that setting, rather gratefully. To me that means progress on the pathless path. A settling in to hope. Because even though so much seems hopeless right now, it's also feels like a record skipping in a groove. We've seen this all before. Can the cycle of dysfunction ever be broken? xo
I love this, Nan. Silence is the most powerful teacher I've had. I think it rewired my trauma brain, that and the psychoactive drugs... but that's a different essay. Still, of all of that, silence was the most powerful. I believe that yes, the cycle of dysfunction can be broken. Certainly, it can for individuals. For me, that means hope for the culture, too. The only question I have is how long something like that would take. I think we are doing it right now. That's why everything looks so horrible.
I'm glad you're hopeful that it can change. I know I can change myself, and that's all I can do. We all have a choice. I hope more people make the wisest choice for themselves, that we don't give up. It looks pretty goddamn horrible for sure. xo
Sure does. The last week or so, I've been having the run-away reflex. Where can I move? What can I do? I've let fear distract me, and make me sad. I don't want to live in that mindset. Fear, get thee gone, now! I have no use for you. xo
Fear eats away at us. It's the worst curse we can lay on anyone. The finality of starvation, not to mention death itself, is enough to cope with.
'Immortality?' ... well, enough said ...
'They' say that by the fourth day of fasting / starvation the body's dopamine kicks in, and you die high as a proverbial kite, but that's little compensation. Fasting does give you amazing clarity of mind, so you will see death coming.
I really don't want any living thing, (human or not) to become an 'air-fried, dead, frog.' But that's apparently something 'to look forward to' now ...
I practiced fasting for a while. I experienced the euphoria, which I connected, much later, to a feeling of power over my body. A few days after that, the clarity of mind came. I have befriended Death. It's a practice I can recommend.
So strong and well said! The essay went deeper and deeper as I read along--(that phrase the breath underneath the breath.). Thank you so much. What a beautiful writer you are. And --where you've been. (and love the bursts of hilariousness too!)
I really enjoyed reading this piece and sensing you. It was comforting - I can feel your steadiness. I relate (though perhaps not as steady right now). Sometimes I miss the days when paths called out and absorbed me in their chaos. This is harder. And it's here. Thank you for writing.
Thanks for this. I know what you mean about missing that kind of involvement. I feel that too. Sometimes I think I would have more interesting things to write about. Steadiness is a good word for it. I love the lack of drama. 🎭
I relate to so much here! The path and the pathless path, the practices and no practices. We can learn from teachers and then the teachers are the problem. And the sacred texts/teachings at some point all begin to sound the same. And yes, we can cling to anything, claiming it as the way, the ego loves that.
We all have to come to this in our own understanding and timing, through our past, our patterning, our trauma and our gifts. Yet I find speaking my truth is important. If not for anybody else but me. But if it serves others and the world, all the better. I just keep following the crumbs, the whispers in the silence...
Thanks for this post, Susan! I want to say I grok it! Hopefully you get that.
I do get the reference. And I can see you do. I need to say it too, or I would not be a writer. Everything matters and nothing does, so be who you are.
So beautifully said. My experience is the same for the blueprint is in each of us. I can only say amen. “ when Mary had told all that Yeshua had said and done, she felt silent, since it was in that silence that Yeshua had spoken with her and revealed these truths… from now on, I shall rest through the course of the time of the age in silence.”
@Susan ...
This is a random myth, (an Irish 'reel') for you,
who introduced me to the challenge of befriending death.
Here's my / our first 'meditation' ... (see below) which doubles up as all sorts of things,
including a refutation of the 'academicisation' (a deliberately horrible word)
of 'anti-memetics' ...(ditto), and (better) a homage to the memoir of an 8 year old child,
written by a dear friend: "The Colour of Flying".
First, before I read, I love this, especially those horrible words. After spending my career in education and pursuing too many advanced degrees, you made me laugh. I used to claim that I don't speak the academese, though, of course, I do. I just wanted to see if the presenter could come simply to the point. Simplicity was the language they didn't speak.
Agreed. I resorted to requiring my students to present mind-maps / concept maps. Worked wonders. (But my academese is among the worst. Poetry is more disciplined. Perhaps!)
Yes, exactly, because good poetry is specific. Academese is lazy and elitist. I think the purpose of having another language is the same as the ridiculously high costs of membership at the country club. And yet, we are all dealing with the human condition...
Taking my mind for a walk ...
Chorus:
“Take it! take another little piece of my heart, baby ...
you know you’ve got it
if it makes you feel ... good.”
(fine)
We write, we scribble, our hands note what comes to mind,
care for it, let it take its first steps,
always with a hand hovering, just behind /
just in front, to catch, to steady
sideways stumbles.
We keep the bogies, ghosts, the hard truths / in check / at bay.
we do not let our babies go, until we’re sure that even they
can fly, gracefully.
We do not just let them loose
we show them where to go / to step / to sleep / to choose
how to walk / run / swim
how to avoid the viruses, wars, the sun,
the ‘super-memes,’ the ‘anti-memes’ ... [cont. in notes]
Then we let them loose ...
show them how to build fences / fires / shelters
grow like plants
that slowly
compost.
da capo al fine ...
Very nice. I love it. You make me think of those nature documentaries a teacher I had once used to show us when we were on silent retreats - the evening's entertainment, so to speak. You remind me of the doc on birds and the complex mating rituals and nest-building techniques that different species perform. It brought our own rituals into a different focus. We are the birds, doing ridiculous things to follow the demands of DNA, which wants only to survive and replicate.
Thank you. While I was writing this response (which started off as a response to 'anti-mimetics' !!!!!! and rapidly escaped into poetry ...) I ruminated (as one does) on writing and it's similarities to bringing 'up' (?) children. Having spent part of my youth paying homage to DNA, I (later on) rediscovered poetry and words, and Shakespeare's nimble shifts from line to line, like Lady Macbeth's "I have given suck ..." and Macbeth's "Tomorrow, and tomorrow" (etc). Now I'm constantly in awe of his creativity - so much so that I have taken to visualise each play on one sheet, and digitalise links, and ... (That'll keep me busy ...)
Ohhh. "I have given suck!" I taught Macbeth for about fifteen years. My favorite speech. I used to show them Liev Schreiber describing how the feminine and masculine endings in certain scenes show who has the power. He was brilliant in the role, but even more, he showed the reason for understanding the poetry and being able to articulate that.. He was in love with the genius as it overtook him for 8 shows a week.
At a conference I attended a few weeks ago, I found myself in a workshop exploring Hamlet, with bottles of shampoo 'standing in' for the characters. Didn't work for me at all.
But then the actors (only four of them, doing the whole play!) turned on (in more than one sense of the word) physical theatre, which opened it all up. I said I was unhappy with a scene they were rehearsing, (with just Hamlet, Rosenkranz and Guildenstern, because it didn't reference the (late) King Hamlet at all. Being a workshop, they imagined playing the same scene, but this time with a 'gilded' portrait of the dead king looking over them. The whole scene changed, as did their 'physical' theatre. What talented players! They could play each scene in so many different ways, instantly. It suddenly came to life. The 'dead' king infused their whole performance.
That sounds like so much fun. I’d have loved to be there. Next, you’ll tell me it was in some gorgeous place, too.
Taking my mind for a walk ...
Chorus:
“Take it! take another little piece of my heart, baby ...
you know you’ve got it
if it makes you feel ... good.”
(fine)
We write, we scribble, our hands note what comes to mind,
care for it, let it take its first steps,
always with a hand hovering, just behind /
just in front, to catch, to steady
sideways stumbles.
We keep the bogies, ghosts, the hard truths / in check / at bay.
we do not let our babies go, until we’re sure that even they
can fly, gracefully.
We do not just let them loose
we show them where to go / to step / to sleep / to choose
how to walk / run / swim
how to avoid the viruses, wars, the sun,
the ‘super-memes,’ the ‘anti-memes’ ...
then we let them loose ...
show them how to build fences / fires / shelters
grow like plants
that slowly
compost.
da capo al fine ...
My best friend always maintained that there were two things she really loved: Giving birth, and making compost (not necessarily in that order.) So she asked to be buried in a wicker coffin, in a woodland burial ground. Which we did. All the better for her body to become compost.
Practical, matter of fact, a gardener to the end ...
Her father, a sailor all his life, asked to be buried at sea. Sadly, she was not invited.
Wow, Roy. That’s beautiful - out of the soil and back to her. My husband and I have decided to become compost. My father asked for his ashes to be scattered at sea. My eldest brother, in his grief, decided that was a moment he needed alone with his father, and didn’t invite any of us along.
Mmmm. I write. all sorts of things. but the most 'vital' ones are the ones that 'I' don't write.
They write 'though' me, so quickly that I have no idea where they come from. but it's not from 'me': but then, who cares? (must be that forest mycelium you were talking about ...)
I’m so glad you do, no matter how it comes about. I write both ways. It’s all good.
Agreed:
1.
"We are not really individuals. Instead, we spring from a rhizome, or the root system of an aspen forest, or we fruited from a huge mycelium. More truthfully, we are one individual with many bodies.
2.
"Because now, for me, it’s about the larger culture, which is causing terrible suffering. You can’t heal the individual in isolation. You can’t even heal (their) families in isolation. Culture is the collective ego, and it is undergoing a messy process - right now. Culture is not just a component of the world we can’t change, and must therefore work around.
It mediates our experience of being here, and it comes through us."
Scribbles, on Silence:
1.
sitting up high
on the cliff edge
many miles south
of Inhambane ...
in Mozambique
I watched a school of kingfish
surfing and turning
turning and surfing
all afternoon
as the waves broke
over the rock shelf.
2.
even further north (of Beira) ...
still, twenty foot underwater,
a huge school of magnificent kingfish
danced past my scuba-mask
in a flash ...
3.
sitting in full lotus
next to the dirt road
in the Franchhoek mountains
late one still, crisp, moonlit night
I reached out right across the valley
my soul merged into
the distant mountains.
4.
sitting in full lotus
beneath the oaks
next to Bontevlei lake
one full summer’s day
I slowly lowered myself
into a headstand
then folded my lotus-legs
carefully, against me
like a clam
and relaxed.
(From 'Die Towerberg se Dans' // 'The Dance of the Mountain of Spells.' Forthcoming, sometime ... )
So beautiful. Made my eyes weep.
Pleasure (for me) sometimes comes in short lines ... (no puns intended!)
Ditto, your magnificent writing and pics. :)
As one of my / our favourite humans sang: "Take it, take another little piece of my heart, baby. You know you've got it, if it makes you feel good ..."
Mornings and dawn choruses can put a smile on mourning. Enough. Enjoy your day.
You always surprise me I’m the best way. Love you and Janis.
Thank you.
Janis was really my partner, Charl's, best virtual buddy (she too had a pitch- perfect voice). I just basked in the joy of the songs she sang.
I did manage to buy her more than one 'mercedes benz' or so, many years later. And she did get taken for a drive, in the meantime, one night, on the highway, headed north, in a friend's newly acquired porsche. Sweet mercies.
I used to sing that song at open mics when I was in college. I loved everything Janis did. I'm glad you mentioned the joy. Sweet mercies, indeed.
Strange. One .... story can be worth 1,000 words.
Just sweet mercies, in abundance ... (enough!)
:)
(Part 2 ...)
all afternoon
as the waves broke
over the rock shelf.
2.
even further north (of Beira) ...
still, twenty foot underwater,
a huge school of magnificent kingfish
danced past my scuba-mask
in a flash ...
3.
sitting in full lotus
next to the dirt road
in the Franchhoek mountains
late one still, crisp, moonlit night
I reached out right across the valley
my soul merged into
the distant mountains.
4.
sitting in full lotus
beneath the oaks
next to Bontevlei lake
one full summer’s day
I slowly lowered myself
into a headstand
then folded my lotus-legs
carefully, against me
like a clam
and relaxed.
(From 'Die Towerberg se Dans' // 'The Dance of the Mountain of Spells.' Forthcoming, sometime ... )
there is a cluster of truths i have been searching for of late all wrapped into this story. thank you.
when i hit silence i can no longer run from my Self
Yes. It’s amazing how much that matters.
Thank you sharing your path and happy it works for you.
For me, I murder all the Buddhas along the side of the road and walk my own path.
I agree wholeheartedly with this approach. All of my teachers were only for a time, and they were all too human.
I love this Susan!! Embracing death and grief has taught me how to appreciate life. It is a beautiful gift. Thank you for bravely sharing your story and your perspectives. 🩶
It’s the most important thing, IMHO. It’s staring into our faces, yet we pretend it’s not there and look past it, to our detriment. Nothing could ever show you more about life. I love how fearless you are, and the sense of humor with which you look.
Thank you so much, that means everything to me 🥹🥹🥹
There is so much in this essay I'd like to discuss with you. Layers and layers of searching, discovery, healing, then searching, discovery, and more healing. We have to go deep, let go of the fear of death, as it is the "next developmental stage," so wisely put. So many questions. Maybe time to stop questioning as much and just sit and listen. The idea of that kind of silence appeals to me at this stage of the game called my life. Previously, I found the idea of a silent retreat horrifying. Now, I can visualize myself in that setting, rather gratefully. To me that means progress on the pathless path. A settling in to hope. Because even though so much seems hopeless right now, it's also feels like a record skipping in a groove. We've seen this all before. Can the cycle of dysfunction ever be broken? xo
I love this, Nan. Silence is the most powerful teacher I've had. I think it rewired my trauma brain, that and the psychoactive drugs... but that's a different essay. Still, of all of that, silence was the most powerful. I believe that yes, the cycle of dysfunction can be broken. Certainly, it can for individuals. For me, that means hope for the culture, too. The only question I have is how long something like that would take. I think we are doing it right now. That's why everything looks so horrible.
I'm glad you're hopeful that it can change. I know I can change myself, and that's all I can do. We all have a choice. I hope more people make the wisest choice for themselves, that we don't give up. It looks pretty goddamn horrible for sure. xo
Ha! I have the run away voice. It says: “You could have Irish citizenship.”
LOL
It’s all we can do. Be who you are, where you are. It takes such courage, though.
Sure does. The last week or so, I've been having the run-away reflex. Where can I move? What can I do? I've let fear distract me, and make me sad. I don't want to live in that mindset. Fear, get thee gone, now! I have no use for you. xo
Fear eats away at us. It's the worst curse we can lay on anyone. The finality of starvation, not to mention death itself, is enough to cope with.
'Immortality?' ... well, enough said ...
'They' say that by the fourth day of fasting / starvation the body's dopamine kicks in, and you die high as a proverbial kite, but that's little compensation. Fasting does give you amazing clarity of mind, so you will see death coming.
I really don't want any living thing, (human or not) to become an 'air-fried, dead, frog.' But that's apparently something 'to look forward to' now ...
I practiced fasting for a while. I experienced the euphoria, which I connected, much later, to a feeling of power over my body. A few days after that, the clarity of mind came. I have befriended Death. It's a practice I can recommend.
So strong and well said! The essay went deeper and deeper as I read along--(that phrase the breath underneath the breath.). Thank you so much. What a beautiful writer you are. And --where you've been. (and love the bursts of hilariousness too!)
So great. Thanks Katherine. If you can't laugh at the human drama, you're missing out on so much. Thanks for reading and commenting.
It took me some time to realise that the only useful guru is the one who always laughs.
Especially if it’s the guru in the mirror. I always preferred the fat laughing Buddha to the skinny austere ones.
I really enjoyed reading this piece and sensing you. It was comforting - I can feel your steadiness. I relate (though perhaps not as steady right now). Sometimes I miss the days when paths called out and absorbed me in their chaos. This is harder. And it's here. Thank you for writing.
Thanks for this. I know what you mean about missing that kind of involvement. I feel that too. Sometimes I think I would have more interesting things to write about. Steadiness is a good word for it. I love the lack of drama. 🎭
I relate to so much here! The path and the pathless path, the practices and no practices. We can learn from teachers and then the teachers are the problem. And the sacred texts/teachings at some point all begin to sound the same. And yes, we can cling to anything, claiming it as the way, the ego loves that.
We all have to come to this in our own understanding and timing, through our past, our patterning, our trauma and our gifts. Yet I find speaking my truth is important. If not for anybody else but me. But if it serves others and the world, all the better. I just keep following the crumbs, the whispers in the silence...
Thanks for this post, Susan! I want to say I grok it! Hopefully you get that.
I do get the reference. And I can see you do. I need to say it too, or I would not be a writer. Everything matters and nothing does, so be who you are.
So beautifully said. My experience is the same for the blueprint is in each of us. I can only say amen. “ when Mary had told all that Yeshua had said and done, she felt silent, since it was in that silence that Yeshua had spoken with her and revealed these truths… from now on, I shall rest through the course of the time of the age in silence.”
Beautiful Kelly. Just right.