bell - a verbalization of consciousness

SWEEEEEET BISCUITS!

… we dun got 2nd Best in the Nation… (B-5, what!?! woop-woop!)

From the heavens above, and by the power within, our team, Portland Whor$hack, went to the Ultimate Frisbee National Championships this past weekend, and brought home the Silver! (Incidently, our team was refered to as “Ror$hack” at the tourney because our actual team name was a bit controversial…).

Anyways, we came into the tourney seeded #12, and we basically just played out of our minds. We even had plenty of opportunities to win the finals game, but after having gone up 10-9, some uncharacteristic decision making on our part, and some incredible defensive plays by our opponents put the final at 15-11, with the second place finish for us to enjoy. I never felt what a complete team atmosphere could feel like until this weekend. Literally, every day was a perfect day. Once you add the ultimate to the comradery, mix in the stories with the team energy, and watch every evening sunset as you splash eachother with the gulf of mexico, you get Whor$hack 2005… an experience that will never be beat. I am so proud to have been a part of such a great family. I miss you all already….

With our second place finish at Nationals, Portland will be representing the United States at Worlds next summer in Perth, Australia!!! Jabu!…. take that to the bank!

(Here’s a look at the champs… those who can storm the field in style to celebrate their second place victory!)

Thanks so much to all of my family, friends, roommates, and ex-teammates who have taken interest in my ultimate addiction. Thanks for calling and checking on us, for having us in your thoughts, for following along on Score-o-matic throughout the tourney, and especially for giving me the confidence to keep playing hard. Special thanks to Uncle Larry, and Kevin Wright for coming down and watching us play. You guys are the best. I wish we could have brought you home the gold, but I’m thinking of myself especially when I say, “we still have a lot to learn.” (aka, how important using a time-out on an upwind break-point in the red-zone can be!) But hey, it’s chill, and we move forward with pride and confidence… College season, here we come… -booyah.

Write ups for the games? Here you go:
(Big thanks to Alex Masulis, for the sweet summaries…!)

-Thursday Recap
-Friday Recap
-Saturday [quarterfinals & Semis] Recap
-Sunday [finals] Recap

Seriously though…. How did we have soooo much fun? One love.

"just throw it away"

“Just throw it away.” Where is it that people think things really go? ‘Away’ is so abstract, so vague, so unrealistic. Things never disappear, and a statement like this displaces responsibility and disolves our relationship to the interrelated. It’s sad to think that, at an early age and on throughout adulthood, we are bombared with such insufficient catch phrases, and unknowingly they perpetuate a non-sustainable mental framework where objects exist in isolation. Out of sight, out of mind. Our rhetoric could use a bit of fine tuning. We would be wrong to think that the messes we create resolve themselves, and I believe that keeping this at the forefront of our consciousness translates very well to issues of the Self.

We are a mess. And it’s not going to go away on its own. You may be of the minority, feeling crisp and organized and unconflicted, but I can only hope that you’ve afforded yourself this luxury through the patient care of being a disciplined and deliberative individual— otherwise you may find a costly pollutant trickling into your daily life 10-15 years from now, and where will you turn? The world is asking themselves this as we speak (or at least they should be!). Awareness is the only answer. It doesn’t promise of prevention, but it has promise all the same. In just the way that we all do spring cleaning every now and then, or how we often take the weekend to dust the cobwebs, fold the blankets, vacuum the floors, pull out & clean up old dresser drawers, so we must do with our minds.

With each cup of coffee we drink, with each routine we maintain, with each new discussion we don’t make time for, our sense of Self is compromised. It is forcibly stuck in the shape of habit, and it’s versatility and overall health is atrophied. Your mind is a muscle, and in the same way that our bellies grow large with age, our mind loses it’s fine physique to neglect. Each day it begs for a change of pace, does it not? At the end of each week (and the beginning for that matter), it cries for some alteration in mood and mode, am i wrong? How then we rush to the bars for Thursday’s afterwork ‘happy hour’, or distract ourselves with NBC’s Friday evening sitcoms, or scramble to the cinema for Saturday night’s big blockbuster, box office hit… Such things are to dull the senses, to induce gratification, and are a far cry from fulfillment. Not that they’re wrong, but they’re not what’s right. We too often reduce ourselves to sensory animals at every chance we get, like a small puppy frantically trying to switch its attention to and from anything to keep it’s little mind busy at work with the arbitrary— first a shoelace, now a belt buckle, now a paper cup, ohh a fallen napkin, ooh a rolling ball, and this, now that, now this… it never ends, until you’re worn out from all the running around and you need to take a little nap with your cute, cute wrinkly nose. People, we don’t have cute wrinkly noses for a reason. Need I remind you that our brain is as wrinkly as it gets….

I just don’t think life is supposed to be entertainment. I see it as resistance and reward. It is an overcoming of a struggle, and the Self needs to feel the weight of work on every level: physical, mental and emotional. This makes for the ‘good life.’ The good life is not a hand-me-down, is not a comfortable stability. That is denial. And that is for the coward. The good life transpires from energy and effort, and I can think of nothing else as more inherently a ceaseless striving than Life itself. We have it. It drives us. It will not simply go ‘away’. And for that, we have a decision to make… embrace or displace?

I’m heading to Nationals in a week, and I’m starting to get pretty freakin’ psyched…

Sticks and Stones...

Despite popular belief, I’m doing very well. Incredible, even— I insist! I’d actually presume that the general populace sees and agrees. The other day I read through my post archive and came to realize that my inner monologue is a bit of a stressed-out, introspective, worrying, dramatist. I can admit it. And most levels, I’m concerned with Time and relations and purpose and meaning, and who knows what else… But don’t let that fool you. It’s just one dimension of Belltron, and on the whole, the man is balanced and moving forward.

In general, I’m honestly feeling relaxed and comfortable, but we all experience varying emotions. This is what it means to be human. It’s just that I choose to articulate those experiences in hopes of better understanding them, and in attempts to put them to rest— which is the more challenging of the two. Just getting the thoughts out on the page before me provides some sense of resolve, and it allows me to stare me right back in the face. The page is my mirror. The words are my facial expressions, and I chronicle so as to digest and negotiate myself in my growth. I’m working hard to be less divided as a person, but these entries will forever continue to speak on only a fragment of who I am, and who I’m becoming. I’d think that to be fairly obvious.

I was re-assuring a close friend just the other day that things are swell. I’ve shifted my schedule around a bit this fall to make space for achievable stability, and in so doing, my teaching position has been passed on to another. Admittedly, it’s just too much to do — playing club, coaching oregon ultimate, taking classes, writing my thesis, and trying to determine what the priorities should be all the while… you get the idea! I mean, I could do it all, right?, but is that really who I’m trying to be? No, I’m not driven purely by blind pride nor by an insatiable appetite for accomplishment. And so, we make choices. This decision has afforded me a lot more mental space, and time to keep my body healthy and rested. “So, no worries,” I said to him. And this is the truth. Things are good. I am an optimist through and through. Find me a friend that would tell me otherwise!

Part of me worries if I offend. Part of me is concerned that I insult the unsuspecting. But most of me feels it is important to be honest with myself, and sharing that honest moment with others is a most vulnerable step. People always have a choice. In these cases, they can turn away from my words in a fit of spiteful misunderstanding, or recognize their own complexity reflected back; and if this be the case, together, we push forward in this world, and maintain the communicative intrigue…

Oh, Grandfather.

Oh, sad, sad face. Why do you torture me so?
If only I could have held your little hand a bit more.

You are so quick to leave me as fast as you came,
Why must you deceive me and play with my brain?

I guess you’re right, I am only fooling myself.
Your work is so thankless while you sit on my shelf.

Diatribe. Three.

What the fuck. Seriously, what is the deal with all of this? What is the plan for all of this? Is there even a plan? How am I to negotiate these people and these places and my dreams and theirs? I’m beginning to think that there is a serious consequence to putting your thoughts out there— into the realm of listeners. People become addicted to the sharing of thoughts. Those that pay attention never seem to go away. And their interest and allegiance build up an attraction that begins to pull and push on you. I can feel my spine condense as we speak. Breathe, Aaron, Breeeaaathe… I must straighten myself from the inside out. I must constantly, consciously resist the weight. Why are we so desperate to need? This world is becoming more and more repulsive to me with each new encounter I have with it. It’s official, Need is very, very painful. And I’m fairly certain that anyone needing me is in for a very, very dangerous disappointment. I will not be there for you. Guaranteed. Promise. I pinky swear. At the very least, life is fleeting. I am merely a momentary incarnation of life, and for what? For you? To suit your needs for a while? To quell your fears for a while? To occupy your time for a while? To distract your insecurity for a while? To remind you of them? Forever, I will not be reliable. My very being by definition is not remotely dependable. Tomorrow might be my last day, or the day that I leave this town— at a certain point it’s all the same. I’m beginning to see the allure of isolation, and I’m beginning to see that this is something most people accomplish in many ways (even through marriage). Perhaps it’s the easy way out after all. Being open to the world and its people is a very precarious thing.

I recognize that I talk in riddles. I never quite say what I mean, and I knowingly express myself discursively, allowing for differing interpretations. It seems that my writing prefers to drag me through all the tributary emotions and distracting considerations that arose throughout the original thinking of the thought I aimed to capture. Sometimes I wish I could just say it, just put it out there. To just be clear, and direct. But words alone are almost too rational, they can never be the whole story. There’s certain emotion to be conveyed, and certain emotion to be avoided. Things I want you to feel, and things that would only distract. All things cannot be expressed with words, so it becomes a matter of how we use them— and “how”, my friend, is for me to decide… this is my freedom. And my impatient burden.

I’m almost sick of words. Sick to my stomach. They create and they destroy me. I can see now that they are both my strength and my weakness. If only I could get them all out of my head. I never realized this before, but I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit it: when I speak, people will listen, and generally, they will be moved in the very ways in which I anticipate. Maybe I only put myself in situations where I have a loyal audience. Maybe I only seek out those that are willing to listen. Maybe I’ve mastered the secret mystical art of unavoidable eye-contact or something. Maybe I’m delusional. In any regard, I imagine that I lose listeners along the way, but will they ever entirely forget me? Will they forget everything I’ve ever said? God, I hope so. I desperately hope so. Oh, by the heavens above and all that’s good on earth, my greatest fear is that I’m right, and people will forever remember me for something, that people will never forget “Aaron Bell”. A name or a curse? Am I condemned to be meaningful? Why do I exude such intrigue? From where comes their fascination? For what are people looking, whether they know it or not, that leads them to believe I have something valuable to share? I’m talking to those of you who are un deniably attracted to me (gasp!) —those of you who want to be my friend, my confidant, my lover, those of you who have once wanted my attention. Get over yourselves. Yes, I pull people in. Yes, I push people away. Yes, I live to bring people close enough to know there’s more and yes, I then never open any further… in fact, I’ll generally escort you out. I am a gentleman at the very least.

Who really says such things? How dare me for putting such thoughts down on a page. And where do I get off sharing them in this way? Who do I really think I am?

Let’s just say that I’m high and mighty. Let’s just say that I’m full of myself. That I’m stubborn and bullish. That I’m mistaken to think the things I do, and I have it all wrong— that I have me and the world all wrong. Why keep coming back then? Why keep showing interest? Why let yourself be vulnerable to me? ‘ve hurt you at least once before, maybe in this passage, maybe last night, maybe last month, maybe last year, maybe last decade … so why return? Why remember? I’ve let you down, and will do so again, there’s nothing more for me to say. I am as deceptive as they come. I maintain a smooth and mild meander down every street I stroll, but truthfully my being is of conflicted intonation, a bedazzled system of trichotomous tension. A system that I can’t begin to understand alone. I conspire to be the best, to do and know the most, to Understand. Please be offended. Let it fuel you to turn your back and never return. Think nasty thoughts of me for eons, and share your disdain with all of the world to see — I beg you. I dare you. I beseech you.

It’s totally unfair of you not to do so.

How do I tempt you? Please share with me so that I may repair the damage, so that I can protect the unsuspecting from my dangerous allure. Do I beg for persuasion? Is there some sense of accomplishment that people hope to attain by moving me to give in to them and their desires/needs? Why me? What about me makes me so attractive? I’m not some stubborn egoist caught in my own wicked web, desperately seeking attention, and embellishing social happenings at will to satisfy my delirium. Please allow me some dignity and some sense of grace, some sense of awareness. These thoughts wouldn’t get down on paper if I wasn’t stuck deliberating over them for as long as I do. I’d have nothing to say if these types of experiences didn’t happen as often as they do. Don’t people see that this is burdensome for me? Burdensome to mediate your little wants and desires? I carry this weight with me with every step I take; my heart is heavy with the fear of falling short. I’ve knocked too many hearts off of other people’s sleeves. The ground I walk on is bloodied with the scars of the past and present. And what of the future? Aye, mi santo, dios mio…

Listen, the difference between me sharing these thoughts and keeping them a secret is a click of a button. Left button to ‘draft’, right button to ‘publish’. I’ve got nothing to hide, but know that sharing doesn’t come easily—

-click!

Untitled.

It’s times like these… times like these when I just don’t know. The world will stand still for no one, and it’s very clear on this, make no mistake. But if only it would, even if just for one moment. If only just for a moment the world could take a break and spare us of its weight. What then? I would feel liberated. A whole moment given to us. Extra. Free. Just like that. Oh, what to do? I’d lay my head down on the warm soft grass below my feet. I’d snuggle into the good earth’s soil, and take the deepest breath I could. I’d let the sun’s shine caress my goosebumps. I’d let the wind dry the tears off my cheeks. I’d let the autumn leaves whisper sweet nothings in my ears. If only I had a free moment. I’d stretch my arms out like an angel, and tap my foot to an imaginary beat. I’d lightly run my fingerstips down my own stomach, spinning a soothing web of spiral sensation atop my skin. I’d lick my lips and clear my mind of all it’s thoughts. I’d rest. Plainly and simply. If only for a moment…

Destiny?

From the heavens, the great arms of chance release their grip.
The strands of time can only do so much to fight this pickle,
But we persist, we shift and wiggle.
And there’s just no stopping some people.

Perhaps, they say, “it’s in the cards,”
But “why,” I ask, “is it all so hard?”
And then we hang our heads in thought, and wonder…
Perhaps these moments, where it all seems harder,
Is when we make and change our fate.

Forget the smooth, give back the comfortable.
I’m charging forward- call me ‘Impenetrable.’
I want the rocks, the cliffs, the heights,
The cold, the warm, the sun, the nights.

Let me feel the world from every flux and foe,
Feel its breath and weight, from head to toe—
It bleeds justs the same as me; I’ve come to know.
I’m not unique, nor do I desire to be…
Real strength erupts from synonymity.

If I think in terms of ‘only me’,
Then this is where I’ll probably be:
Alone at home, or in strange company,
Afraid to admit I have no new stories to tell,
I’ve been consumed by lethargy radical.

“Go and Live!,” take on all the world has to give.
The dreams of the dead are not your compass…
And the fabric of fate is not your sieve.
Destiny is what you make it — what you mold,
and where you take it.

Writing to Whor$hack, Admitting to Self

Hi everyone…

~Belltrite