Nothing to report. I’ve got too much going on that I can’t quite get my finger on a single thought. Tell me about it… this is (almost) the story of my life. I’ve just returned from a spring break, but it was one of those spring breaks that led me farther into the mess I’ve been so desperately trying to get out of.
Back in Eugene, I’ve already moved on from it. Of course, last week is all anyone wants to hear about, but it’s the farthest thing from my mind. You know how it is, everyone you meet throughout your day asks you the same (damn) question and in acknowledging them you become as creative as possible to switch up your response, only to fall asleep at night knowing that no one else really cares — neither about what you actually did nor how you spent your day trying to switch up the way you told everyone what you did. Anyways, I don’t have time for such (petty) questions. “I’ve got things to do, people!” But they don’t understand. They want the stories. But I insist: “spring break was the break,” I tell them. “I’m interested in your life too, but do we have to talk about it? Let’s just acknowledge that we both like eachother as people, and move on — we can talk for real on Friday, or something. As for now, well, I’ve returned, and I’ve got things to do. Oh, and yes, to answer your other question, I am felling pretty good today.” Well, maybe I didn’t tell them all of that… and to be honest, despite my present squabbling, it’s nice to hear from people throughout my day. It adds a new freshness quality to it all, and at every beginning of a conversation is a smile — and while we’re being honest, I’ll admit, a smile is always pretty hard to beat.
Coming back to this mess, I’ve learned my lesson, however. At this stage in the game, you can’t help but cut your losses, clean up your act and strive for the top yet again. It’s a long road back up there, but I’ve got Sisyphus to accompany me on the journey —- almost literally in fact. I’m TA‘ing Existentialism 211 this term: the most wonderful assignment I could have asked for! Today was the first day of classes, and the introductory class this afternoon was just what I needed; almost a personal recommittment of sorts. There was a reason I began this whole philosophical pilgrimmage in the first place, and it’s nice to get a refresher of my intellectual roots — or, perhaps I should say, where my intellectual interests first took root. The readings alone have me giddy.
Back to that moment of now: I’m feeling up to the task of being the grad student I’m supposed to be. It’s been a long time coming, and I’ve not quite felt the feeling with this much fervor until now. I admit, it feels good. I’ve got my whole routine lined up, jam packed with activity. Barely anytime for me — just how I like it. Once I get too much time under my hands, I screw the whole thing up.
My journal is on fire these days, but no one is reading it… Once life starts rolling into a steady pace again, I’ll bring out the cyber verbalization a bit more. It’s a mental exercise for me, above all, but I appreciate the vulnerability and the responsibility that comes with it’s relationship to the outside world via anize. — which is growing by the way, and that’s always good to see. Despite personal belief, you can never surround yourself with too many good people. It’s just becomes an issue of managing them all, but that’s neither here nor… exactly.
Welp, you’ve all guessed it — Schopenhauer awaits, yet again; another night, he and I grow together under my fingertips, fumbling at the farthest expanses of my contemplative potential… and I’ll probably make very little tangible progress. Ooops,… that’s him talking again! “Aaron, you know you can do it!,” says the Self.
Ahhh, the Self.
This is clearly Schopenhauer’s idea, and NOT mine… but I still wrestle with it. I’ve been seriously engaging this theme for about a week now, and as I write my final paper, i thought I’d share a passage I found most convincing:
“If, finally, we were to bring to the sight of everyone the terrible sufferings and afflictions to which his life is constantly exposed, he would be seized with horror. If we were to conduct the most hardened and callous optimist through hospitals, infirmaries, operating theatres, through prisons, torture-chambers, and slave-hovels, over battlefields and to places of execution; if we were to open to him all the dark abodes of misery, where it shuns the gaze of cold curiosity, and finally were to allow him to glance into the dungeon of Ugolino where prisoners starved to death, he too would certainly see in the end what kind of a world is this meilleur des mondes possibles [best of all possible worlds].”
~(The World as Will and Representation, Vol 1, p. 325)
For the most part, rest assured, I argue with him; however, it’s clear that man’s inhumanity to man can be an awfully unbearable thought.
…sigh…
Rebel Music – you live it, not chose it. Rebel Music, yeah. Movement, yeah.
This was written facing East,
In sleepy pearls of early mornings,
After two rakat salaats,
Where my body folds while falling,
Calling forward through the Heavens,
Plug my soul back in its socket,
Park my flying carpet,
And then embrace the day that started.
When it seems the Earth is sleeping – peep it:
Thought goes into actions,
Inspirations in my brains,
Spirits whisper words and captions;
And my hand begins to fly across the page from the reaction,
So fast I get dyslexic,
And I write my letters backwords.
With a passion like calligraphy,
A scupltor of the strange,
See, my lyrics make ‘em dance,
Like they had waterfalls for legs.
Bring the visions of a painter
To a canvas that was blank,
And shape a masterpiece –
Redecorate your mind with what we make.
It’s rebel music.
[Chorus:]
This is a movement that’s made to slay illusion
This is a soothin’: sun and moon and grass rooted
We put a light, and plus a torch to the confusion
Never lose it, Rebel Music
It’s a record revolution
Yo I done pointed many fingers,
Been caught tellin’ lies and failed,
Made unforgettable mistakes,
Because perfection’s not for sale.
Here, they’re starin’ like you’re weird
If you AINT never been to jail.
Some swallow pills with names from alphabets,
And tear ducts tend to swell,
‘Cause they told us men don’t cry,
And I been grown since I was twelve,
When they told us trust nobody – Damn,
I barely trust myself!
Pressure builds, trained to deal,
Change the taste of pain to milk.
Wish we had a dime for all the times
We tried to climb and fell.
So we fling our hopes to heaven,
Fear to everlasting hell.
You may not think were gonna make it,
But I know for sure we will!
So ‘till the day we reach the ESSENCE,
We’ll be fightin’ on this mission.
My heart has half of Love,
And half a hungry Lion in it
Rebel Music.
(Chorus)
This is not your favorite Lust song.
This ain’t R’n’B and Fashion.
This is Spirit, mixed with lyrics –
Dressed as music,
Filled with passion –
An Assassin, stabbin’ madness in its’ back,
Just for the answers.
And we travel like Moroccan Hash –
We make paths like ambulances.
Clear the way;
Our music’s dying on machines and tampered samples.
Yeah, I love to dance but, damn,
it’s like my radio got cancer.
Every time I change the station,
And they play out the summer anthems,
They’re all bland and seem to sound the same,
Like rain drops in Atlanta.
My band will kill it,
Like I jam with Sam and Manson.
So don’t Test it;
Feel the essence,
Seed to sidewalk circumstances
Picture that:
If I’m the seed
Then on the concrete where we landed,
There’s a crack!
We commin’ back with fruits;
Our roots are firmly planted.
Rebel music.
[Chorus:]
This is the music that makes you question what they’re doin’.
This is a soothin’: sun and moon and grass rooted.
We put a light, and plus a torch to the confusion,
Never lose it, Rebel Music.
This is a record revolution.
I’m living in a way where I am aware that its all about the memories. And I know that every ‘today’ is just another day to be looked back upon from one day in the future — if I’m lucky! (both to still be alive tomorrow and to actually be able to remember it!). Everyday, then, is a wonderful memory from its start. So I cherish it. I cherish it by experiencing it at the time, and I cherish it by experiencing it with other people at the time; then, together, the two of us, or three, or four, or how ever many of us were there — when we come together, we can remember and cherish that moment together, and that, in turn, makes the ‘togetherness’ that much more special.
Its almost like I’m adding-in memories for the future … I know that I will eventually bump into one of those many people, from one of those many places, during one of those ever-so many exciting days from my rich and interactive past; and because I remembered meeting them and making that moment something extra-ordinary, I was able to asssociate that face I’m seeing before me as that old friend, that old happenstance acquaintance;
and what might have otherwise been just a passing of 2 people has now become an intersecting; and with every new interaction comes a complete new set of possibilities — this is what makes life so beautiful! At each intersection with every person you meet is another road you might be allowed to go down for a while… a road you might never thought existed, or never thought was possible, or never thought would come your way — and in this way you can continue to rebuild the road-map for your travels.
Let your friends be your travel companions, and your conversations with them be your street signs.
“You know, when you’re in a conversation, and you get on a tangent, and you go from one tangent to another tangent?? … that’s kinda like a metaphor for life — we’re just bouncing from one thing to the next, like a frog that jumps from lilly pad to lilly pad; and that’s just kind of how we are in life. So I wrote this poem:”
Frog Existentialism
Everything is nothing and nothing is everything,
in the spatious pond of “Right Now,”
where horny toads and bull frogs leap from lilly pad to lilly pad,
using their God-given know-how.
Throughout the cycle of day and night,
alternating between Freedom and Fright,
our amphibious friends dwell in both mind and matter,
where all their activity is purely filler:
croaking chitter-chatter, amongst raindrops … pitter-patter…
~Eric Hoffman
The frequency with which I post entries, or lack thereof, is certainly most indicative of … well, of something. I guess I’m not quite sure ‘what’. I’ve often thought that the more I post/write, the more patient I am with working to understand my troubled thoughts or to synthesize my daily experience —- but I’m not convinced that it’s a ‘patience’ thing. I also thought it was just a ‘time’ thing and the more time I have free, the more I could address my blogging tendancies… but there are times where I DO have a free moment, but I’d rather just lay there. I’ve come to the point where there really is no rhyme or reason to when or what I post. This site has just become a conglomeration of all that I am, from the inside out, literally.
Yesterday, I had lunch with a few close friends at a little pub and burger joint right next to campus. We were all talking about our lives and how busy things have gotten during finals, and I found myself saying to my good friend, Grishkin, “You know what, sometimes you get so far behind in life that you just gotta slow down, you know what I’m sayin’?” That was my moment of zen. I think in all honesty, I live in accord to such a statement. I mean, you know how it is: sometimes you feel so overwhelmed with what you have to do, and the priority list just gets longer and longer, and you start to realize there’s absolutely no way you could POSSIBLY get it all done, … and that’s when I take a nap. But, hey, that’s just me. I know for sure it’s not like this all the time for me, but then again, maybe it is. In the end, it all works out. But to my credit, I am in the library about to attack this philosophy paper and that puts me a full week ahead of schedule! That’s progress… right?
Tomorrow I leave for PLU. It’s the annual PLUBBQ tournament, and I’m helping organize the first PLU Alumni Team! I’m absolutely stoked. Unfortunately, I pulled my groin last weekend at the Stanford Invitational, so I’ll be resting my body, but i’ll be there to cheer everyone on, and check out the whole scene. For what its worth, my tireless running earned some small-time publicity: my friend, and now famed photographer, Andrew Davis, caught some sweet pics at Stanford, and one of yours truly — it was a layout attempt on a D’ed hammer, but I came up with nothin’ but jammed fingers. Oh, and Ultivillage.com caught some footage on film of a grab and some layouts — I felt pretty honored, and I have to imagine that my mom is proud (or, at least she better be!). I mean, you gotta ask yourself, if it wasn’t for pictures and video, how many of us would still be playing ultimate? Exactly.
Ultimate has been a wild ride so far. I’m stoked to head up to PLU this weekend and see the old (and new!) faces… and I’m stoked to head out to Austin, TX next week for the infamous College Centex Tournament,x05/college/ one of the, if not THE, most competitive spring tournaments (other than nationals). We’re gonna have to play our asses off, and when it’s all over, it’s a week-long, team-get-away in Corpus Christi! … right on the beach! Should be a good time. Hazaa for Spring Break.
Now, if only I can get those two papers in before next Thursday….
The difference is on what keeps us up at night — When I look at my neighbor to my left, or my friend on my right, we’re all essentially doing the same thing (e.g., they’re all making decisions that we TOO are making or could make). The real difference is not on what we do, or hope to do, its how we make sense of it all —> it’s what we choose to think about along the way; what we choose to ‘get hung up on’ that varies.
In other news, I decided the title of a novel I’m going to write if my time in life so permits. It’s going to be called, “Our Time Between Hospital Visits,” chronicles of the human life; that’s all I’m going to say on that, for now… Just remember: the most wonderful thing you can do is to live and die out in the real world.
Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
Sound from outside fills the air?
Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
Than the breathing respect that you carry
Wherever you go right now? Are you waiting
For time to show you some better thoughts?
When you turn around, starting here, life this
New Glimpse that you found; carry into evening
All that you want from this day. This interval you spent
Reading or hearing this, keep it for life —
What can anyone give you greater than now,
Starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?
…. William Stafford
—————————————-
P.D. Ouspensky would probably clap, nearly as vigorously as I did smile.
