Was at Point Loma for a night (Saturday). Grandparents, drama, aunts, uncle, cousin. Got responses to the foolish email, sent reply, got wise, reconciling reply from L. Email foolishness not a reason for an end in this case. [In response,] Wrote four drafts, only sent the fourth (the third failed to send immediately, giving me another look). The fourth, just a 'thank you!' and 'see you when you get back' (the whole experience was rather emotional and meaningful, but after puzzling over three drafts, attempting to be more coherent and less passionate, I realized there was no point in drawing things out--I wrote foolishly partly because I missed her and wasn't self-aware enough at the time to say simply that. The only resolution really is to wait for her return. Not sure what the value of email is in this case. Her response [the wise one, already mentioned], somewhat amazing and comforting--she even welcomed my writing again and said she'd try to read more open-mindedly. A sort of email aikido--there is no resistance, nothing to push against there. Instead of continuing the foolishness, she raises the quality, thoughtfulness of the interaction. And she showed she does read the emails and does care--I did not entirely expect that.). Picked Macadamias in Pt Loma cyn. Emails from Jasmine, Don-- inbox a bit like a good novel. Returning to Acorn & Seminole, ate a lot. Later left, got sour cream. Dumpster greens, got earlier: good spinach, lettuce. Many people visit this dumpster [but I live very close by--can check it each walk if I have no higher purpose]. Yesterday it was mostly full of bananas. At evening visit to cat, looked at L's books: inner child, _magister ludi_, nietszche, dostoyevski. Later got into _brothers K_. Ate too much cream, I'm sure. Won't get so much again.
So, all in all, not much news. Haven't got to look at link Gianni sent: portablefarms.com.
Walking now. Will probably do exercises, swim, etc. Dad arrives tomorrow evening.
Will not be able to get away with filling mind with books forever. But at least I got out [of the house]. May think some creative thoughts now or just enjoy whatever is happening. Eating--probably the greatest recent foolishness.
No response from Deer Park yet. That will be quite a change. What is there to do in meantime? Money will be a main concern soon enough. But, waiting, more challenge course jobs may come along. If it works out, long-term monastery non-monk residence appears to be <$300/mo + work. Not sure what I'll think of it after two weeks there. How will I be affected by those I meet. Drama with L probably not over yet, love and desire.
Imagine either I'll like it there (@Deer Park) very much, or develop renewed appreciation for extra-monastery life, or develop new connections, new visions, and progress to some newer synthesis of the two. May meet good laypeople who open new possibilities.
In the meantime, try not to eat too much, keep exercising. Sew those pants. Feed the cat. Read _Brothers K_. Maybe think about finances. Write Don, Jasmine. Should probably call mom, but I tend to avoid calling anyone. Could talk to J about meeting in Balboa Park the 6th.
In many ways, it is very (very) nice here at the moment. There is no fire to get me to keep working on getting a shipping job.
The city-funded park leafblowing just started--motivation to move on. [Later it stopped, and Jim L from SDSU Aztec Adventures and dog came by and said hi.]
------
Here are parts of _the brothers K_ I felt like typing in:
"Alyosha," Miusov declared, "may be the only man in the world who, if left all by himself in the middle of a strange city inhabited by a million unknown people, would never suffer from cold or hunger. For he would immediately be offered food and shelter; and if no one offered him anything, he would find everything he needed right away himself, and it would cost him no effort, nor make him feel in the least humiliated, nor, for that matter, would he be imposing himself on others; just the contrary, they would all be only too happy to do things for him." _The Brothers Karamazov_ Dostoyevsky; AH MacAndrew, translator.
"What precisely is an elder, then? An elder is a man who takes your soul and your will into his soul and his will. Once you have chosen your elder, you renounce your own will, you yield it to him in total submission and self-renunciation. A man who consents to this ordeal, to this terrible apprenticeship, is willing to bear it in the hope that, after a long period of trial, he will conquer himself and achieve a self-mastery that will enable him to finally attain, through a whole life of obedience, complete freedom (that is, freedom from himself) and thus avoid the fate of those who reach the end of their lives without ever having found themselves within themselves." Ibid.
----
[wishing us]
Peace and creative love and enough mindfulness to be aware of them [I'm working on the latter at the moment],
Monday, December 29, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
1/09|DbStndrd|Joy inCreation of culture
<<there is something about the joyful reproduction or creation of culture that is at the root of any friendship or partnering--and at the root of my being so lost, so non-participating.>>
Sitting in quiet park (a special circumstance), facing low south sun, close hill with houses, bright grassy outfield, sparkled blacktop to my bare knees.
Will kata, yog, ballet soon, I imagine. It is 0916. First walkers and a dog now, 'Good Morning!', and I've been here a while. Bare foot in sun. Eileen the cat attacked that foot and the other one, not enough to damage. She spent the night outside.
Things are somewhat different now. Having a bit of a life plan. And even a reason to earn a bit.
Imagine I'll be somewhat more mindful, less dramatic, here and in the rest of life. Giving up, as it were, what has for me been a primary source of drama.
The memory of my own harmful-to-others(desire-[or something-]driven) mindlessness seems to be what motivates me to change--the fire I was wondering how to get on, the 'I need help'--and fortunately there was a place in mind believed helpful.
A lack of belief that two people outside of the sangha can do what needs to be done, can develop as is needed.
A seeing that peace must be every step, or you lose it, as I did. And can harm more than one's own self.
What this means for spontaneous, creative interaction? Well, I don't think, any more, I'll be going through that taciturn, too-cautious-to-speak-or-act (perhaps neo-buddhist) stage.
And how helpful or necessary is this memory of harm, this sense of possible harm?
I'm aware of how positive the quick play can be.
The harm was done after a loss, after a wished-for identification of the one harmed as self, and from a wish to change and control.
The harm was done [by me] to me [or to the relation], perhaps, far more than to the other[?], and the harm, now a useful feedback.
Not scoring points for coherence today perhaps. . . and what will become of this type of writing and publishing when I'm there at DPM?
I don't think I want to just sit. I think I'd like to keep this up, but probably could come to identify with other work.
I was concerned what I'd written here yesterday about family could cause harm. And causing harm, or potential harm, by writing here may continue to be an issue.
The main place where there may be harm by writing here is in interpersonal relations, close, intimate relations, where trust can be damaged.
And there are incidents of unhelpful speech I've left in old published pages. Some of the newer stuff too.
But so much / all of that shows my hypocrisy ['double-standard' is probably the more appropriate word]--wanting others to accept my difference or lack of culture while not accepting theirs. Every incident I recall seems to fit that statement,
And what of standards of care/treatment, of improvement, . . . pretty sure all that will still work and occur. [a leaving-behind of Jensen's 'culture of make-believe', of culture of self- and other-destruction?]
it remains to be seen whether this is a progression for me: Is this a point of growth I'll be able to look back on? Etc.
---
I do think there is something about the joyful reproduction or creation of culture that is at the root of any friendship or partnering--and at the root of my being so lost, so non-participating. Were there no sangha. . . There is. Previously I was trying to see all things as the sangha. But the recent focus on working with others, on companionship, helps me to see I want to be with others who self-identify with the sangha, with their practices of mindfulness--that I do not wish to just trust in basic goodness and my own (attemps at) mindful practice to generate peaceful and creatively loving sangha wherever I go. My recent foolishness helped coffin that idea.
peace & creative love,
--------------------
[from yesterday afternoon and evening:]
Subject: 2009-01-09
Maybe I'll be at Deer Park Monastery that day for the start of a two-week retreat in a tent.
My remorse or embarassment at what I wrote L certainly helped me register (-$350). I need help. And looking over their web pages and how they've changed since I last visited: these are many good people doing good things.
There was a hint too of: I don't want life to be all happy-smiley. It won't be, even there. Maybe I can fit in with these good people and become a more helpful, positive person.
---
Oh, I'm so sorry.
Well, two weeks to sew, and may as well work on the maritime program app and refs. For now, though, a break? Read Richard Henry Dana or _Infinite Jest_? Eat? Will I walk long?
--------
2008-12-26-1739 Reading why Kate Gompert wanted to kill herself is calming oddly. My mind's been running. Been eating hurridly. Feeling a bit bad, down, but knowing it will pass. An impersonal xmas card[?]. Memories of other unmindful speech [a cause?]. Not wanting peace, wanting things to happen--(such as) a discussion and recognition of suffering.
Unmindful speech one of my greatest challenges. Time to end the experiment of writing and speaking out? That doesn't suit me now.
Needing help.
"I'd rather feel nothing than this." _Infinite Jest_
Not my case, but does get me considering what I'm feeling, what I've felt before.
------------
Peace, creative love,
Sitting in quiet park (a special circumstance), facing low south sun, close hill with houses, bright grassy outfield, sparkled blacktop to my bare knees.
Will kata, yog, ballet soon, I imagine. It is 0916. First walkers and a dog now, 'Good Morning!', and I've been here a while. Bare foot in sun. Eileen the cat attacked that foot and the other one, not enough to damage. She spent the night outside.
Things are somewhat different now. Having a bit of a life plan. And even a reason to earn a bit.
Imagine I'll be somewhat more mindful, less dramatic, here and in the rest of life. Giving up, as it were, what has for me been a primary source of drama.
The memory of my own harmful-to-others(desire-[or something-]driven) mindlessness seems to be what motivates me to change--the fire I was wondering how to get on, the 'I need help'--and fortunately there was a place in mind believed helpful.
A lack of belief that two people outside of the sangha can do what needs to be done, can develop as is needed.
A seeing that peace must be every step, or you lose it, as I did. And can harm more than one's own self.
What this means for spontaneous, creative interaction? Well, I don't think, any more, I'll be going through that taciturn, too-cautious-to-speak-or-act (perhaps neo-buddhist) stage.
And how helpful or necessary is this memory of harm, this sense of possible harm?
I'm aware of how positive the quick play can be.
The harm was done after a loss, after a wished-for identification of the one harmed as self, and from a wish to change and control.
The harm was done [by me] to me [or to the relation], perhaps, far more than to the other[?], and the harm, now a useful feedback.
Not scoring points for coherence today perhaps. . . and what will become of this type of writing and publishing when I'm there at DPM?
I don't think I want to just sit. I think I'd like to keep this up, but probably could come to identify with other work.
I was concerned what I'd written here yesterday about family could cause harm. And causing harm, or potential harm, by writing here may continue to be an issue.
The main place where there may be harm by writing here is in interpersonal relations, close, intimate relations, where trust can be damaged.
And there are incidents of unhelpful speech I've left in old published pages. Some of the newer stuff too.
But so much / all of that shows my hypocrisy ['double-standard' is probably the more appropriate word]--wanting others to accept my difference or lack of culture while not accepting theirs. Every incident I recall seems to fit that statement,
And what of standards of care/treatment, of improvement, . . . pretty sure all that will still work and occur. [a leaving-behind of Jensen's 'culture of make-believe', of culture of self- and other-destruction?]
it remains to be seen whether this is a progression for me: Is this a point of growth I'll be able to look back on? Etc.
---
I do think there is something about the joyful reproduction or creation of culture that is at the root of any friendship or partnering--and at the root of my being so lost, so non-participating. Were there no sangha. . . There is. Previously I was trying to see all things as the sangha. But the recent focus on working with others, on companionship, helps me to see I want to be with others who self-identify with the sangha, with their practices of mindfulness--that I do not wish to just trust in basic goodness and my own (attemps at) mindful practice to generate peaceful and creatively loving sangha wherever I go. My recent foolishness helped coffin that idea.
peace & creative love,
--------------------
[from yesterday afternoon and evening:]
Subject: 2009-01-09
Maybe I'll be at Deer Park Monastery that day for the start of a two-week retreat in a tent.
My remorse or embarassment at what I wrote L certainly helped me register (-$350). I need help. And looking over their web pages and how they've changed since I last visited: these are many good people doing good things.
There was a hint too of: I don't want life to be all happy-smiley. It won't be, even there. Maybe I can fit in with these good people and become a more helpful, positive person.
---
Oh, I'm so sorry.
Well, two weeks to sew, and may as well work on the maritime program app and refs. For now, though, a break? Read Richard Henry Dana or _Infinite Jest_? Eat? Will I walk long?
--------
2008-12-26-1739 Reading why Kate Gompert wanted to kill herself is calming oddly. My mind's been running. Been eating hurridly. Feeling a bit bad, down, but knowing it will pass. An impersonal xmas card[?]. Memories of other unmindful speech [a cause?]. Not wanting peace, wanting things to happen--(such as) a discussion and recognition of suffering.
Unmindful speech one of my greatest challenges. Time to end the experiment of writing and speaking out? That doesn't suit me now.
Needing help.
"I'd rather feel nothing than this." _Infinite Jest_
Not my case, but does get me considering what I'm feeling, what I've felt before.
------------
Peace, creative love,
Friday, December 26, 2008
murmullos; monastery
Back @ park. Sort things out. Been unmindful. Sending messages. Eating bananas. Today is mostly clear. Laying in sun. Grandma alone in TV glow eve of xmas day. Gums irritated.
If extract self, not wait for death or extraction, mind will develop plan, supporting rationale. Last night during long walk mind turned to monastery. The walk, 2.5 hrs at the shortest, 3 hrs last night. In dark through driving wind and rain at the top of Del Cerro. Brutal in its lonliness, the loneliness is a strand connecting times of life when that feeling was newer, less resolved. Now there is a bit of distance from it, an examination of it.
The rationale. No rent, no car. No commute. A focus on the most meaningful. Company, companionship. Our social structure is isolating. Alternatives: homeless camp by river / village in mexico / get job pay rent try to find companions do the more usual thing.
---
Just went online. Come, murmullos, save me, distract me from rationale, my own reason.
Same guys are in the park.
--
Two days, no Kroc, not so easy.
The next step is to arrange the visit to the monastery then.
---
I sent L a stupid email. Well, that's done now.
---
Wrote NUP draft:
Network Use Policy
Wait one day before sending a reply to a personal message not related to meeting up.
Wait one day after writing a personal message to send it.
Analyze this policy.
---
I guess that's it. If I could find a female partner who shared my orientation, no cars, walk, stay near, question tradition--and I expect that is possible--maybe I could sustain a non-monastic life.
I guess that's it. Will you make the reservation?
What holds you back? The effort, planning, forethought, change, cost.
Shaving, commitment, sexless.
---
avoid the endless wandering.
may be able to call them. May be. By 4pm?
---
any other way to meet those goals?
The reproductive costs: the vietnamese buddhist culture versus other options.
perhaps could develop a new approach based on what I learn there, but such initiative seems unlikely at the moment.
and my typing here?
this does seem to be the next adventure. The beauty of the women, head hairless, body cloaked, without the challenge of the possibility of intimate partnering.
unusual to have men & women at same monastery in that tradition. There are the other retreaters and lay visitors.
a comment like that on the women--
oh, they eat separately, generally.
you're not there to love them the sexual way.
but does seem much richer that they are there. Doubt there's harm in noting that.
a regression to school-age fun and sociability. A progression--
is there any other solution to the social and intellectual devastation of north america / socal ? [doubt intellectual should be in there]
could the monastery ever be more accessible?
is the sexlessness a requisite of this style solution?
the amish--in which reproduction, mating, life, far more scripted.
but to my knowledge, few non-christian solutions are as open to the culturally lost as the buddhist monastery + the buddhist need no statement of faith.
sort of like a neo-tribe for those who lack initiative to make tribe of own or enter existing one.
---
the maritime career would possibly solve many problems of life. But I don't feel at ease with it--(were it easier to get in, as in 1850 [started Richard Henry Dana], I probably would already be gone)
buddhists aim more directly at the goal.
---
got to comparing self with the 'more alive'. I don't seem to miss my relatives. The thought of visiting them does not bring peace, though there is nothing openly bad about our interactions--well some I do avoid--its just that my problems will not be solved thereby, I feel. Awareness of difference and otherness again. [where can I lessen that?]
---
getting cold. Hope to do my exerecises. Will see if I make that reservation.
peace and creative love,
If extract self, not wait for death or extraction, mind will develop plan, supporting rationale. Last night during long walk mind turned to monastery. The walk, 2.5 hrs at the shortest, 3 hrs last night. In dark through driving wind and rain at the top of Del Cerro. Brutal in its lonliness, the loneliness is a strand connecting times of life when that feeling was newer, less resolved. Now there is a bit of distance from it, an examination of it.
The rationale. No rent, no car. No commute. A focus on the most meaningful. Company, companionship. Our social structure is isolating. Alternatives: homeless camp by river / village in mexico / get job pay rent try to find companions do the more usual thing.
---
Just went online. Come, murmullos, save me, distract me from rationale, my own reason.
Same guys are in the park.
--
Two days, no Kroc, not so easy.
The next step is to arrange the visit to the monastery then.
---
I sent L a stupid email. Well, that's done now.
---
Wrote NUP draft:
Network Use Policy
Wait one day before sending a reply to a personal message not related to meeting up.
Wait one day after writing a personal message to send it.
Analyze this policy.
---
I guess that's it. If I could find a female partner who shared my orientation, no cars, walk, stay near, question tradition--and I expect that is possible--maybe I could sustain a non-monastic life.
I guess that's it. Will you make the reservation?
What holds you back? The effort, planning, forethought, change, cost.
Shaving, commitment, sexless.
---
avoid the endless wandering.
may be able to call them. May be. By 4pm?
---
any other way to meet those goals?
The reproductive costs: the vietnamese buddhist culture versus other options.
perhaps could develop a new approach based on what I learn there, but such initiative seems unlikely at the moment.
and my typing here?
this does seem to be the next adventure. The beauty of the women, head hairless, body cloaked, without the challenge of the possibility of intimate partnering.
unusual to have men & women at same monastery in that tradition. There are the other retreaters and lay visitors.
a comment like that on the women--
oh, they eat separately, generally.
you're not there to love them the sexual way.
but does seem much richer that they are there. Doubt there's harm in noting that.
a regression to school-age fun and sociability. A progression--
is there any other solution to the social and intellectual devastation of north america / socal ? [doubt intellectual should be in there]
could the monastery ever be more accessible?
is the sexlessness a requisite of this style solution?
the amish--in which reproduction, mating, life, far more scripted.
but to my knowledge, few non-christian solutions are as open to the culturally lost as the buddhist monastery + the buddhist need no statement of faith.
sort of like a neo-tribe for those who lack initiative to make tribe of own or enter existing one.
---
the maritime career would possibly solve many problems of life. But I don't feel at ease with it--(were it easier to get in, as in 1850 [started Richard Henry Dana], I probably would already be gone)
buddhists aim more directly at the goal.
---
got to comparing self with the 'more alive'. I don't seem to miss my relatives. The thought of visiting them does not bring peace, though there is nothing openly bad about our interactions--well some I do avoid--its just that my problems will not be solved thereby, I feel. Awareness of difference and otherness again. [where can I lessen that?]
---
getting cold. Hope to do my exerecises. Will see if I make that reservation.
peace and creative love,
Thursday, December 25, 2008
non participation
Mist and drizzle, but under this huge what may be a Torrey pine the ground is dry for writing and exercise. Two others, at least, in this park: a man with sideburns reclined in his car; the tall, somewhat formidable homeless guy who sleeps here under the awning of the little league bleachers, who collects cans.
The king of days for non-participation! For those from nations with a christian history. Those who participate are doing so, and we are left to ourselves. The others are not participating in their usual routine; streets are more quiet, more places closed than at other times--externally, the world is not participating either.
More drizzle, umbrella now.
Hard rain. Wind.
Black and red, green, blue, drops on the screen. Wish I had my tarp?
Not a lot different from a solo mountain day.
Well--
Challenging times recently. Was a bit wrapped up with one of the more living. With these, I get to the point where I simply witness. Odd, for the witnessed, has never lasted. I respond, somewhat, to calls to life--my response unmet, the call given with half a heart perhaps as I imagined, and there was no other half here: well that is hard.
So the heavy rain passed. Tree drip now. Gusts of drip.
Were the living one gone--perhaps I'd just be focused on some project. The only project comes to mind: work on shipping out: three character refs.
dRIp; A drip on "Tree drip".
She is gone and left me her cat and her neighbor.
I could go south to Huehuecoyotl.
Could get some job here. Feel somewhat drawn to adult daycare for the developmentally disabled. Those I see at Kroc.
Oh. An old friend, and what are those? What is a friendly feeling? What is concern from 3,000 miles distant? Well hers, from that far and five months past, affected me. . .
Life could be would be different elsewhere. But I'll be moved rather than make a move?
Something special and true about this space when I, as now, do not eat or read to avoid it.
Self as cultural being seems to be the topic, I feel close by, of a meditation.
Should you complace with the culturepractice of another . . .
And where does the energy to live or will come from. . . Is there anything in interaction beyond culture? Interaction = mutual valuing of culture?
My pickle is: self-imposed isolation due to non-participation in transportation as practiced here. Why have I no will to change? I am so comfortable? Fire--is there any way to be on it?
Is my no-will so strong because when left alone, when I leave the calls to interaction, when they leave me, I am comfortable, content?
No need to ramble more here. The goal of writing has been met. I thought I might resolve or affirm to make some change in my non-life--such as not being here, not living here by next December.
Barking dog.
Pretty lame in a certain way if I'm still here then. Only in comparison.
I've become aware how much strength there can be in being with a partner. With that strength, potential for harm. Much of culture is built on partnership. And the single ones. . .
Well--no one is entirely. Somewhere there was an interaction.
------
What do old friends mean? Friends of an old self? With whom will the next interaction be? What claim do they have on me? What do I have for them but witness?
Sun and bright sky. Glistening on needle-leaves.
You can be my friend if you embrace my culture.
My culture? Walk. Sense. Contemplate. Stay near.
Shipping out, rather a disruption.
The meditation (last week) got me focused on companionship perhaps only to learn a bit about culture.
A dog walker by my oddness. "Good morning!" Showers.
The warmness of my brain--comfort there--in interactions with others challenge comes in. Did not used to have that central warmth, or did, but sought so much in you that I never knew.
---
A newer friend invited me to church. Got the note a few days late. By then non-response not so hard. But actually had thought to ask.
A statement of faith her church has. Culture. Reproduction. Do g-ds have faith? In what? Do they state?
---
Distant light blue.
I'd interact more were the quakers, unitarians, buddhists, grand christian cathedrals (St Barts), not separated by the transit I avoid. In NYC.
A creative response. Neighborhood door-knocking. But I only live here waiting to leave.
---
Kevin is that friendly guy who swims in the day. A student at CalPolySlo.
Showers.
Cheetah is a female-sexed dog (my mistake). Gender? Yearnings, trans-species? (Second Life avatar and persona?)
---
I rode with L to her work yesterday and helped her mend some student work before firing. Took pictures. A wonderful thing to do--somewhat somber too, a sort of unimagined event. But she's gone now till the fifth. I had never been. A place so much a part of her life. And broadening to me to go. UCSD *is* 15 min by car--1.5 to 2 hours by transit. Not a wonder SANDAG still seeks to build highways. The sky a distant illumined blue beyond a long mottled plain of clouds. The campus of SD Jewish Academy fairly rich with art, artistic thought, and I know from my own experience in a private school with art tiles (less art than was here but more natural beauty: All Saints' in Carmel Valley)how this adds to good memories, connection to place.
Good so good to just be and work and read, often silent, with this other's presence.
---
Wind in trees, not much dripping. Moving orange mesh fence. Sound of cars on road, a rushing. A plane-- L is on one; another, undulating jet sound. Birds, a chatter conversing. A drop on umbrella drum. Rustling leaves. Ants progress on curb of wheelchair walkway. Phone hangs, dims, attempting to receive something. Reflection, in the dark glass, of eyes, rosy nose, whiskers over lip, red edge of synthetic fleece hat. Looking around. Purple flowers. Straightening spine. Transmission did not succeed. [Later arrives: a post to sdtjdph I'd scheduled for seven days from the 18th].
---
Time to exercise, to send this out?
---
reread; shivers; time to move.
Peace & creative love,
The king of days for non-participation! For those from nations with a christian history. Those who participate are doing so, and we are left to ourselves. The others are not participating in their usual routine; streets are more quiet, more places closed than at other times--externally, the world is not participating either.
More drizzle, umbrella now.
Hard rain. Wind.
Black and red, green, blue, drops on the screen. Wish I had my tarp?
Not a lot different from a solo mountain day.
Well--
Challenging times recently. Was a bit wrapped up with one of the more living. With these, I get to the point where I simply witness. Odd, for the witnessed, has never lasted. I respond, somewhat, to calls to life--my response unmet, the call given with half a heart perhaps as I imagined, and there was no other half here: well that is hard.
So the heavy rain passed. Tree drip now. Gusts of drip.
Were the living one gone--perhaps I'd just be focused on some project. The only project comes to mind: work on shipping out: three character refs.
dRIp; A drip on "Tree drip".
She is gone and left me her cat and her neighbor.
I could go south to Huehuecoyotl.
Could get some job here. Feel somewhat drawn to adult daycare for the developmentally disabled. Those I see at Kroc.
Oh. An old friend, and what are those? What is a friendly feeling? What is concern from 3,000 miles distant? Well hers, from that far and five months past, affected me. . .
Life could be would be different elsewhere. But I'll be moved rather than make a move?
Something special and true about this space when I, as now, do not eat or read to avoid it.
Self as cultural being seems to be the topic, I feel close by, of a meditation.
Should you complace with the culturepractice of another . . .
And where does the energy to live or will come from. . . Is there anything in interaction beyond culture? Interaction = mutual valuing of culture?
My pickle is: self-imposed isolation due to non-participation in transportation as practiced here. Why have I no will to change? I am so comfortable? Fire--is there any way to be on it?
Is my no-will so strong because when left alone, when I leave the calls to interaction, when they leave me, I am comfortable, content?
No need to ramble more here. The goal of writing has been met. I thought I might resolve or affirm to make some change in my non-life--such as not being here, not living here by next December.
Barking dog.
Pretty lame in a certain way if I'm still here then. Only in comparison.
I've become aware how much strength there can be in being with a partner. With that strength, potential for harm. Much of culture is built on partnership. And the single ones. . .
Well--no one is entirely. Somewhere there was an interaction.
------
What do old friends mean? Friends of an old self? With whom will the next interaction be? What claim do they have on me? What do I have for them but witness?
Sun and bright sky. Glistening on needle-leaves.
You can be my friend if you embrace my culture.
My culture? Walk. Sense. Contemplate. Stay near.
Shipping out, rather a disruption.
The meditation (last week) got me focused on companionship perhaps only to learn a bit about culture.
A dog walker by my oddness. "Good morning!" Showers.
The warmness of my brain--comfort there--in interactions with others challenge comes in. Did not used to have that central warmth, or did, but sought so much in you that I never knew.
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A newer friend invited me to church. Got the note a few days late. By then non-response not so hard. But actually had thought to ask.
A statement of faith her church has. Culture. Reproduction. Do g-ds have faith? In what? Do they state?
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Distant light blue.
I'd interact more were the quakers, unitarians, buddhists, grand christian cathedrals (St Barts), not separated by the transit I avoid. In NYC.
A creative response. Neighborhood door-knocking. But I only live here waiting to leave.
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Kevin is that friendly guy who swims in the day. A student at CalPolySlo.
Showers.
Cheetah is a female-sexed dog (my mistake). Gender? Yearnings, trans-species? (Second Life avatar and persona?)
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I rode with L to her work yesterday and helped her mend some student work before firing. Took pictures. A wonderful thing to do--somewhat somber too, a sort of unimagined event. But she's gone now till the fifth. I had never been. A place so much a part of her life. And broadening to me to go. UCSD *is* 15 min by car--1.5 to 2 hours by transit. Not a wonder SANDAG still seeks to build highways. The sky a distant illumined blue beyond a long mottled plain of clouds. The campus of SD Jewish Academy fairly rich with art, artistic thought, and I know from my own experience in a private school with art tiles (less art than was here but more natural beauty: All Saints' in Carmel Valley)how this adds to good memories, connection to place.
Good so good to just be and work and read, often silent, with this other's presence.
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Wind in trees, not much dripping. Moving orange mesh fence. Sound of cars on road, a rushing. A plane-- L is on one; another, undulating jet sound. Birds, a chatter conversing. A drop on umbrella drum. Rustling leaves. Ants progress on curb of wheelchair walkway. Phone hangs, dims, attempting to receive something. Reflection, in the dark glass, of eyes, rosy nose, whiskers over lip, red edge of synthetic fleece hat. Looking around. Purple flowers. Straightening spine. Transmission did not succeed. [Later arrives: a post to sdtjdph I'd scheduled for seven days from the 18th].
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Time to exercise, to send this out?
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reread; shivers; time to move.
Peace & creative love,
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