.
.
The world is defined by opposites
Beauty is beauty because ugliness is perceived
Good is good because bad is perceived
Therefore, having and not having produce each other
Difficult and easy complement each other
Long and short create each other
High and low support each other
Sound and silence harmonize with each other
Front and back accompany each other.
The man of understanding is not defined by opposites
He goes about his activities without effort
Teaching without talking.
Though busy he does not turn away
Handling what needs to be done, he does not hold on
Completing, he does not take credit.
Because nothing is possessed, nothing is ever lost.
*
Commentary: My purpose in doing this exercise is to bring these passages alive in the context of finding usefulness and practicality within their esoteric nature.
First however, there was a translation challenge for me over the words Sheng Jen. Mostly this is translated as the Sage. Stephen Mitchell translates it as the Master. R.L. Wing says Evolved Individuals. I prefer the Man of Understanding. This is a term John-Roger has used in one of his talks and is Chapter 76 of his book The Tao of Spirit:
Anyone can play the game.
As a matter of fact,
almost everyone plays the game
except the man of understanding.
He goes through the routine with you
and laughs
and has a good time,
and you can't understand why he's not serious about this.
It's because he understands that there is nothing to be
serious about,
because the whole divine action of God
is entirely present.
And so this man of understanding is accused of being everything
but understanding.
John-Roger from Tao of Spirit
So I like “Man of Understanding” as it seems more accessible and less aloof than the other terms. It does present another set of problems, however, one of gender. What about the woman of understanding? Mitchell gets around this by alternating between calling the Master a “he” and a “she.” I thought of saying the One of Understanding but that seemed a little too lofty. So I have stuck with the Man of Understanding as it resonates most for me. My hope is that the female readers can make the switch to include themselves.
Now on to the practicality of the passage. The most useful to me is in the last sentence, “Because nothing is possessed, nothing is ever lost.” I think it is a wonderful statement of detachment. In fact throughout the text the Man of Understanding goes about things in a detached state yet still manages to stay very involved, doing nothing but getting things done. One of the keys is the effortlessness that comes from detachment. It reminds me of the Life Design Principle mentioned in a previous post:
There is a simple next step to everything.
And that simple next step can always be taken in a relaxed way.
One of the reasons the Man of Understanding is not understood is that he doesn’t define his life in the same way as the average person. He is not run by others’ opinions and nothing is good or bad or right or wrong. Things are simply what they are and the Man of Understanding is content to leave it that way.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Three-dimensionality - part four(a) of five
Despite the brilliance of Anne Mitrani, Lisa Lichtenfels, and Ron Mueck, (see part three), and as "alive" as their creations are, one is still left the fact that they are not moving. One of the more delightful ways to animate a puppet is with strings. The wonder of this for me was brought home in the movie Being John Malkovich with John Cusack. The opening scene shows puppets being maneuvered so delicately, so humanly, and so sensitively that it is a jaw-dropping scene. It's worth the rental just to watch those few moments. From then on I didn’t have much exposure to that form of puppetry, so even more reason for my delight in reading a Financial Times (of all places!) article, this weekend, entitled Pulling the Strings by Sarah Hemming. It is not available online to link to you, so below I have excerpted what to me are some of the highlights.
The article states that, “Little Angel, Britain’s oldest surviving marionette theatre has had a new lease of life.” Apparently it was on the verge of bankruptcy. Loss of funding led to a six-month closure but it reopened after getting funded on the centenary of its founder, John Wright. The current artistic director Peter Glanville says, “It’s taken a while for people to realize how much skill lies in the art of puppetry and how many different types there are. It’s a six-month process to develop a puppet.”
The article goes on to explain that, “The Little Angel Theatre itself is a diminutive treasure. Today the auditorium is flanked by a workshop, where specialists carve the pint-sized casts. The stage can accommodate many types of puppetry, including ‘black-light’ (the puppeteers are obscured by lighting) and short–string marionettes (with the puppeteers on stage). But its unique asset is a ‘double bridge’ (narrow balconies above the stage), enabling puppeteers to operate long-string marionettes. Peering down over the rails—a 2 metre drop—I realize how much skill it must take to control tiny gestures. ‘Marionette work is relatively rare,’ says general manager Charlotte Bond: ‘It is so specialized and you need a bridge, so there aren’t many places to perform it in this country.’”
“The theatre is using its grant from the UK’s National Lottery to celebrate marionette work, creating a touring show, running courses and hiring two apprentices to hone the skill of making stringed puppets. It hopes to take puppetry forward and bring it to new audiences.”
“We want to create work that explores the boundaries of what puppet theatre can be,” says Glanville. He is particularly proud of a new initiative offering artists from all disciplines a chance to experiment with puppetry, ‘I get calls from chamber orchestras, from opera companies, from dance companies, all wanting to work with puppets.’”
So why this surge in interest from mainstream companies? Glanville attributes it partly to the fact that British theatre has evolved over the past 20 years to include more visual, physical drama. Also, festivals of international work have showcased puppetry traditions from elsewhere, such as Balinese shadow and Vietnamese water puppets.
It was a Japanese bunraku show that inspired Royal Shakespeare Company’s Gregory Doran to stage Venus and Adonis. In this ancient form each puppet has several skilled operators controlling precise movements. ‘This is an art form in which puppetry, narration and music are held in absolutely equal balance,’ he says. ‘I was also very impressed by the fact that the entire, very large audience was adult.’”
“Doran thinks that part of the attraction for adults is that audiences are hungry for work that emphasises its theatricality: ‘There is now more of a celebration of how theatre is different from film and television. In puppetry, you are asked to believe that a block of wood is the goddess Venus. If you do that, if you involve yourself in that imaginative leap, that act of complicity, then it becomes super-real.’”
“Having made the leap, audiences can be led into fantastical worlds. That puppets are being manipulated also intrigues adults. Doran says, ‘We like a world in miniature that we can control.’”
The article states that, “Little Angel, Britain’s oldest surviving marionette theatre has had a new lease of life.” Apparently it was on the verge of bankruptcy. Loss of funding led to a six-month closure but it reopened after getting funded on the centenary of its founder, John Wright. The current artistic director Peter Glanville says, “It’s taken a while for people to realize how much skill lies in the art of puppetry and how many different types there are. It’s a six-month process to develop a puppet.”
The article goes on to explain that, “The Little Angel Theatre itself is a diminutive treasure. Today the auditorium is flanked by a workshop, where specialists carve the pint-sized casts. The stage can accommodate many types of puppetry, including ‘black-light’ (the puppeteers are obscured by lighting) and short–string marionettes (with the puppeteers on stage). But its unique asset is a ‘double bridge’ (narrow balconies above the stage), enabling puppeteers to operate long-string marionettes. Peering down over the rails—a 2 metre drop—I realize how much skill it must take to control tiny gestures. ‘Marionette work is relatively rare,’ says general manager Charlotte Bond: ‘It is so specialized and you need a bridge, so there aren’t many places to perform it in this country.’”
“The theatre is using its grant from the UK’s National Lottery to celebrate marionette work, creating a touring show, running courses and hiring two apprentices to hone the skill of making stringed puppets. It hopes to take puppetry forward and bring it to new audiences.”
“We want to create work that explores the boundaries of what puppet theatre can be,” says Glanville. He is particularly proud of a new initiative offering artists from all disciplines a chance to experiment with puppetry, ‘I get calls from chamber orchestras, from opera companies, from dance companies, all wanting to work with puppets.’”
So why this surge in interest from mainstream companies? Glanville attributes it partly to the fact that British theatre has evolved over the past 20 years to include more visual, physical drama. Also, festivals of international work have showcased puppetry traditions from elsewhere, such as Balinese shadow and Vietnamese water puppets.
It was a Japanese bunraku show that inspired Royal Shakespeare Company’s Gregory Doran to stage Venus and Adonis. In this ancient form each puppet has several skilled operators controlling precise movements. ‘This is an art form in which puppetry, narration and music are held in absolutely equal balance,’ he says. ‘I was also very impressed by the fact that the entire, very large audience was adult.’”
“Doran thinks that part of the attraction for adults is that audiences are hungry for work that emphasises its theatricality: ‘There is now more of a celebration of how theatre is different from film and television. In puppetry, you are asked to believe that a block of wood is the goddess Venus. If you do that, if you involve yourself in that imaginative leap, that act of complicity, then it becomes super-real.’”
“Having made the leap, audiences can be led into fantastical worlds. That puppets are being manipulated also intrigues adults. Doran says, ‘We like a world in miniature that we can control.’”
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Tao Te Ching -- Chapter One
The spirit that can be contained is not the true Spirit
The one that can be named is not the All
From the All emanates everything.
Separation comes from identification
Therefore, unconditioned we see the essence
Conditioned, we see the form
Knowing both states arise from the same Spirit
Is the mystery within life
And the opening to all understanding
Commentary:
(Note: If you are wondering what I am doing writing about the Tao Te Ching please refer to the February 9 post.)
Jonathan Star spends 23 pages commenting on this first chapter in his Tao Te Ching: The Definitive Edition. He believes that it is the “seminal verse” and that it “can be considered the foundation of the entire text.” The commentaries on this blog are not an intellectual discussion of the text itself, but more about their possible usefulness and application in our lives. In other words, what relevance does this verse have to us?
A principle that re-occurs throughout the text, is the living of life with no expectation. When there is no expectation there is no disappointment. When we can get beyond the conditioned way we see things, we can live life in a more unconditional state.
We are conditioned in so many ways—language, education, family, culture, religion, etc. An unconditional state is more open, and innocent. It’s a childlike perspective, where everything is a wonder, and is to be played with and explored. Where everything is a right now experience and anything can be let go of in the moment in order to give attention to the next object of wonder. Because of their openness, children are often looked upon as being closer to the magical in life—to the divine.
The unconditioned state leads us to the space that holds all things. When we able to describe such a state we have moved out of it and returned to our conditioned world. It can’t be grasped with the mind, yet it is ever present. What a fine balancing act life is!
The one that can be named is not the All
From the All emanates everything.
Separation comes from identification
Therefore, unconditioned we see the essence
Conditioned, we see the form
Knowing both states arise from the same Spirit
Is the mystery within life
And the opening to all understanding
Commentary:
(Note: If you are wondering what I am doing writing about the Tao Te Ching please refer to the February 9 post.)
Jonathan Star spends 23 pages commenting on this first chapter in his Tao Te Ching: The Definitive Edition. He believes that it is the “seminal verse” and that it “can be considered the foundation of the entire text.” The commentaries on this blog are not an intellectual discussion of the text itself, but more about their possible usefulness and application in our lives. In other words, what relevance does this verse have to us?
A principle that re-occurs throughout the text, is the living of life with no expectation. When there is no expectation there is no disappointment. When we can get beyond the conditioned way we see things, we can live life in a more unconditional state.
We are conditioned in so many ways—language, education, family, culture, religion, etc. An unconditional state is more open, and innocent. It’s a childlike perspective, where everything is a wonder, and is to be played with and explored. Where everything is a right now experience and anything can be let go of in the moment in order to give attention to the next object of wonder. Because of their openness, children are often looked upon as being closer to the magical in life—to the divine.
The unconditioned state leads us to the space that holds all things. When we able to describe such a state we have moved out of it and returned to our conditioned world. It can’t be grasped with the mind, yet it is ever present. What a fine balancing act life is!
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Three-dimensionality part three (footnote)
What art offers is space - a certain breathing room for the spirit.
John Updike
Big thanks to Mike Brent who after my February 6 post commented:
On a similar note, here's a super-cool video about Ron Mueck, ultra-realist sculptor extraordinaire:
25min documentary
small clip
His stuff is so real it's scary!
If you haven’t checked out these clips, please do. Shelley and I watched them last night (Shelley for the second time) and we were awed by how real and evocative Ron Mueck’s works are. Then I awoke this morning and realized that something was missing. It was the joy. There was no joy. Now, I do understand that art does not have to be joyful. In fact, part of its value is often to stir us up. Nevertheless, art for me is primarily pleasure and joy is the quality I look for as an inner response to what I am viewing.
With Anne Mitrani and Lisa Lichtenfels there is a compelling joyousness that draws me in. With Ron Mueck I am left outside the work as a neutral observer-perhaps not so neutral, because I feel a certain emptiness. Of course, my rambling thoughts do not take away from the brilliance of the work and the clips are really a must see.
John Updike
Big thanks to Mike Brent who after my February 6 post commented:
On a similar note, here's a super-cool video about Ron Mueck, ultra-realist sculptor extraordinaire:
25min documentary
small clip
His stuff is so real it's scary!
If you haven’t checked out these clips, please do. Shelley and I watched them last night (Shelley for the second time) and we were awed by how real and evocative Ron Mueck’s works are. Then I awoke this morning and realized that something was missing. It was the joy. There was no joy. Now, I do understand that art does not have to be joyful. In fact, part of its value is often to stir us up. Nevertheless, art for me is primarily pleasure and joy is the quality I look for as an inner response to what I am viewing.
With Anne Mitrani and Lisa Lichtenfels there is a compelling joyousness that draws me in. With Ron Mueck I am left outside the work as a neutral observer-perhaps not so neutral, because I feel a certain emptiness. Of course, my rambling thoughts do not take away from the brilliance of the work and the clips are really a must see.
Friday, February 9, 2007
Tao Te Ching -- Introduction
The Tao has no expectations.
The Tao demands nothing of others.
The Tao does not speak.
The Tao does not blame.
The Tao does not take sides.
The Tao is not Jewish.
David M. Bader – Zen Judaism
From time to time I will digress from Halfland explore other topics that interest me. I was born in London, England, and raised orthodox Jewish, while being educated at Holy Trinity, a Church of England school. However, my heart has always yearned for the East. I am glad to say that in the last 10 years I have been able to make it to Japan on five occasions and also to China.
For the past couple of years I have taken to translating the Tao Te Ching an ancient Chinese book purportedly written by Lao Tzu around 500 B.C. I can’t speak a word of Chinese, nor can I read Chinese characters but thanks to Jonathan Star in his Tao Te Ching: The Definitive Edition, I don’t have to. Jonathan takes apart every character giving each one their multitude of meanings. In addition to his own translation he also gives examples of how other well-known translations have interpreted the passages.
There are 81 Chapters in all. The book is very concisely written and has been a fountain of inspiration for everyone looking for deeper meaning in life. I first came across the book about 25 years ago. Its multi-leveled meanings continue to inspire me. In 1990 I took John-Roger’s writings and isolated his most Zen-like teachings and compiled a book of his called the Tao of Spirit.
Given the Tao Te Ching is one of the most translated books in history, you may ask why I would want to come up with my own. The answer is that the time spent contemplating the characters and their meanings brings me to a place of peace, understanding, and acceptance. The passages give a different way of looking at life and provide a respite from the materialism that seems to permeate virtually every aspect of our lives, whether we like it or not.
In addition to Jonathan Star’s book, other translations I like are by Stephen Mitchell, Red Pine, and my all time favorite Gia-Fu Feng. In future, I'll be posting my own translation plus a commentary on what it means to me.
The Tao demands nothing of others.
The Tao does not speak.
The Tao does not blame.
The Tao does not take sides.
The Tao is not Jewish.
David M. Bader – Zen Judaism
From time to time I will digress from Halfland explore other topics that interest me. I was born in London, England, and raised orthodox Jewish, while being educated at Holy Trinity, a Church of England school. However, my heart has always yearned for the East. I am glad to say that in the last 10 years I have been able to make it to Japan on five occasions and also to China.
For the past couple of years I have taken to translating the Tao Te Ching an ancient Chinese book purportedly written by Lao Tzu around 500 B.C. I can’t speak a word of Chinese, nor can I read Chinese characters but thanks to Jonathan Star in his Tao Te Ching: The Definitive Edition, I don’t have to. Jonathan takes apart every character giving each one their multitude of meanings. In addition to his own translation he also gives examples of how other well-known translations have interpreted the passages.
There are 81 Chapters in all. The book is very concisely written and has been a fountain of inspiration for everyone looking for deeper meaning in life. I first came across the book about 25 years ago. Its multi-leveled meanings continue to inspire me. In 1990 I took John-Roger’s writings and isolated his most Zen-like teachings and compiled a book of his called the Tao of Spirit.
Given the Tao Te Ching is one of the most translated books in history, you may ask why I would want to come up with my own. The answer is that the time spent contemplating the characters and their meanings brings me to a place of peace, understanding, and acceptance. The passages give a different way of looking at life and provide a respite from the materialism that seems to permeate virtually every aspect of our lives, whether we like it or not.
In addition to Jonathan Star’s book, other translations I like are by Stephen Mitchell, Red Pine, and my all time favorite Gia-Fu Feng. In future, I'll be posting my own translation plus a commentary on what it means to me.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Three-dimensionality – part three of five
Our duty, as men and women, is to proceed as if limits to our ability did not exist. We are collaborators in creation.
Teilhard de Chardin
The first home that Shelley and I moved into was a ramshackle cottage that we rented in the canyons above Beverly Hills. We found it in the two weeks in the year when the place was livable. After that it was either freezing cold—Shelley sitting in front of her computer with several layers of clothes on top of which she wrapped herself in a blanket under which was a radiator. Or too hot—Shelley could only work in the evenings. Nevertheless, we thought it was heaven and the best place we had ever lived (which amazingly we have said with each subsequent place).
During that time of our life Shelley and I would go on what we called “life-enriching adventures” which we would surprise each other with. Having lived in either London or Los Angeles, in equal measure my whole life, these were not exotic treks into the wilderness, these were urban adventures. One such adventure was a visit to a Museum of Miniatures. (The museum has since closed, but I can assure you that Hila’s work would be a star exhibit if it was still open).
Halfway through the museum, I stopped in front of an exhibit and could not believe what I was seeing. The dolls I was viewing, behind glass, looked like real children. I waited, expecting them to move. I was looking at the work of Anne Mitrani. I was now hooked on puppetry. From pop-ups, to automata, and now to this. Awareness of three-dimensionality was born inside of me and has continued to fascinate me with its seemingly mystical dimension--further awakening me to my own dimensionality.
Later that year Shelley introduced me to the soft sculpture of Lisa Lichtenfels. Yes, these "alive" humans are just fabric and stitching. Again, I was awed.
Well as you can see this has now expanded to a five-part post. More to come.
Teilhard de Chardin
The first home that Shelley and I moved into was a ramshackle cottage that we rented in the canyons above Beverly Hills. We found it in the two weeks in the year when the place was livable. After that it was either freezing cold—Shelley sitting in front of her computer with several layers of clothes on top of which she wrapped herself in a blanket under which was a radiator. Or too hot—Shelley could only work in the evenings. Nevertheless, we thought it was heaven and the best place we had ever lived (which amazingly we have said with each subsequent place).
During that time of our life Shelley and I would go on what we called “life-enriching adventures” which we would surprise each other with. Having lived in either London or Los Angeles, in equal measure my whole life, these were not exotic treks into the wilderness, these were urban adventures. One such adventure was a visit to a Museum of Miniatures. (The museum has since closed, but I can assure you that Hila’s work would be a star exhibit if it was still open).
Halfway through the museum, I stopped in front of an exhibit and could not believe what I was seeing. The dolls I was viewing, behind glass, looked like real children. I waited, expecting them to move. I was looking at the work of Anne Mitrani. I was now hooked on puppetry. From pop-ups, to automata, and now to this. Awareness of three-dimensionality was born inside of me and has continued to fascinate me with its seemingly mystical dimension--further awakening me to my own dimensionality.
Later that year Shelley introduced me to the soft sculpture of Lisa Lichtenfels. Yes, these "alive" humans are just fabric and stitching. Again, I was awed.
Well as you can see this has now expanded to a five-part post. More to come.
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Three-dimensionality – part two of three
The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.
Albert Einstein
After Shelley saw my interest and delight with pop-ups, she introduced me to automata. Again my fascination was with the fact that you could simply take paper, scissors, and glue and make these moving objects. This was another step for me. Now illustrations were not only leaping off the page, but moving as well.
My first attempt and still my favorite automata is the Cat Walk shown above. Shelley and I found it serendipitously when we were looking for an actual cat walk for our cats. It opened up a world for us. It is very interesting to see the eyes, of people who come into my office, widen in awe as they start playing with Cat Walk’s mechanism. They think I am an engineering genius for putting what is in actuality a very simple paper kit together.
If automata appeals to you check out Paper Animations to see other working models of other delights designed by Rob Ives. There are many other automata makers out there but Rob Ives’ have a special lightness of touch and humor that is second to none. If Shelley were designing automata it would be like Rob’s.
Albert Einstein
After Shelley saw my interest and delight with pop-ups, she introduced me to automata. Again my fascination was with the fact that you could simply take paper, scissors, and glue and make these moving objects. This was another step for me. Now illustrations were not only leaping off the page, but moving as well.
My first attempt and still my favorite automata is the Cat Walk shown above. Shelley and I found it serendipitously when we were looking for an actual cat walk for our cats. It opened up a world for us. It is very interesting to see the eyes, of people who come into my office, widen in awe as they start playing with Cat Walk’s mechanism. They think I am an engineering genius for putting what is in actuality a very simple paper kit together.
If automata appeals to you check out Paper Animations to see other working models of other delights designed by Rob Ives. There are many other automata makers out there but Rob Ives’ have a special lightness of touch and humor that is second to none. If Shelley were designing automata it would be like Rob’s.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Three-dimensionality -- part one of three
The extent of your consciousness is limited only by your ability to love, and to embrace with your love, the space around you, and all it contains.
Napoleon Bonaparte
My love affair with three dimensions really started when one day I was browsing in Crown Books, in Santa Monica, and Shelley pointed out to me Robert Sabuda’s brilliant pop-up book, The Wizard of Oz. I opened it up and my jaw dropped. I bought it immediately for $16.95 before the bookshop discovered it had made a mistake. I was certain that the book really cost over $100, as such were the amazing details.
I resolved to be become an expert on paper engineering. I still have that resolve. What a delight it is to create a three-dimensional moving work of art from just a few pieces of folded paper. I have made various attempts at origami, but that for me is more of a mental process. Pop-ups are a total giddy delight.
Since then, Shelley and I have purchased all manner of pop-up books. The latest we acquired was by Robert Sabuda’s partner, Matthew Reinhart. His pop-up book, The Jungle Book has brought lots of giggles to our home and is our most prized book. Matthew really seems to have advanced the art. I hope you can see from the pictures below how the tiger leaps off the page. What you can’t see is how the claws menacingly unfurl as the page is slowly opened.
Napoleon Bonaparte
My love affair with three dimensions really started when one day I was browsing in Crown Books, in Santa Monica, and Shelley pointed out to me Robert Sabuda’s brilliant pop-up book, The Wizard of Oz. I opened it up and my jaw dropped. I bought it immediately for $16.95 before the bookshop discovered it had made a mistake. I was certain that the book really cost over $100, as such were the amazing details.
I resolved to be become an expert on paper engineering. I still have that resolve. What a delight it is to create a three-dimensional moving work of art from just a few pieces of folded paper. I have made various attempts at origami, but that for me is more of a mental process. Pop-ups are a total giddy delight.
Since then, Shelley and I have purchased all manner of pop-up books. The latest we acquired was by Robert Sabuda’s partner, Matthew Reinhart. His pop-up book, The Jungle Book has brought lots of giggles to our home and is our most prized book. Matthew really seems to have advanced the art. I hope you can see from the pictures below how the tiger leaps off the page. What you can’t see is how the claws menacingly unfurl as the page is slowly opened.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Adrenaline Collapse
It is Wise not to rush about.
Lao-tzu
When I first started dating Shelley I was awed by her constant up energy. She called herself hypo-manic—having only the up side of the manic-depressive cycle. I reveled in her continued state of happiness.
When we moved in together, I did notice certain things that I found unusual. For example, she would procrastinate on getting jobs done. I would start to get agitated as the deadline loomed, however, as if playing a game of Chicken, Shelley was stressed but unmoved. Then, when she couldn’t stand it any longer she would kick into gear working 24 hours, then 48 hours, then 72 hours without sleep and often without food and water (sometimes there was more than one project), until finally completing the project and with minutes to go, making the presentation in time (successful of course). This was followed by collapse, recovery, and then a repeat of the cycle.
Then, one day, there was no recovery. I returned home from a 6 week trip to China and Australia to find her lying on the floor, a position she had been in for most of the time I was away. Medical tests gave us a shock. Their prognosis was likely lupus. Lupus is an auto-immune disease. It is when a person’s immune system, instead of defending them, starts attacking them. Why a person would attack themselves will have to wait for another blog entry, but the point I wanted to make here was that although adrenaline worked for Shelley for a number of years, it was unsustainable over the long run.
Shelley can still work all night and feel that she has accomplished something, but then it takes a week to recover during which nothing is done, followed by a month of discouragement and low energy. We may be addicted to oil, but our culture is definitely addicted to adrenaline. It’s no accident that Starbucks is everywhere. But there is another way, one that Shelley has begun to embrace since I started this blog—small acts done consistently.
It’s humbling to think that Aesop had this all wired 2600 years ago in the telling of his fable of the race between the tortoise and the hare. If you have forgotten who won, here is a clue; it wasn’t the hare.
Lao-tzu
When I first started dating Shelley I was awed by her constant up energy. She called herself hypo-manic—having only the up side of the manic-depressive cycle. I reveled in her continued state of happiness.
When we moved in together, I did notice certain things that I found unusual. For example, she would procrastinate on getting jobs done. I would start to get agitated as the deadline loomed, however, as if playing a game of Chicken, Shelley was stressed but unmoved. Then, when she couldn’t stand it any longer she would kick into gear working 24 hours, then 48 hours, then 72 hours without sleep and often without food and water (sometimes there was more than one project), until finally completing the project and with minutes to go, making the presentation in time (successful of course). This was followed by collapse, recovery, and then a repeat of the cycle.
Then, one day, there was no recovery. I returned home from a 6 week trip to China and Australia to find her lying on the floor, a position she had been in for most of the time I was away. Medical tests gave us a shock. Their prognosis was likely lupus. Lupus is an auto-immune disease. It is when a person’s immune system, instead of defending them, starts attacking them. Why a person would attack themselves will have to wait for another blog entry, but the point I wanted to make here was that although adrenaline worked for Shelley for a number of years, it was unsustainable over the long run.
Shelley can still work all night and feel that she has accomplished something, but then it takes a week to recover during which nothing is done, followed by a month of discouragement and low energy. We may be addicted to oil, but our culture is definitely addicted to adrenaline. It’s no accident that Starbucks is everywhere. But there is another way, one that Shelley has begun to embrace since I started this blog—small acts done consistently.
It’s humbling to think that Aesop had this all wired 2600 years ago in the telling of his fable of the race between the tortoise and the hare. If you have forgotten who won, here is a clue; it wasn’t the hare.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Getting Things Done
Banish the word struggle from your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.
Hopi Elder
Shelley doesn’t believe me, but I used to be a procrastinator par excellence. That’s before I learned how to break things down. I was taking a two-day workshop on Getting Things Done by David Allen. (I have known David for over 30 years and he has written a bestselling book by the same name). Despite David’s clear and enormously entertaining presentation my head was spinning at all the things I now had to do to get my head clear. I was getting a little spaced out on his lecturette on project management. Somehow my ears tuned to his last words of the lecture, and the workshop, “Even a project for a journey to Mars begins with, ‘Call Fred.’”
The light came on. I wasn’t a great manager or a whiz with technology but knew how to “call Fred.” It then seemed that every few weeks I would read a great article explaining how to break things down into manageable amounts and if it is still unmanageable break it down even further. Even learning Tai Chi Chuan my Internal Boxing instructor, Bob Engel, a former special education teacher, was meticulous about breaking things down for me so I could grasp the moves. Overwhelm ceased. It was all a matter of breaking things down.
That led to Life Design Principle # 5 which states:
There is a simple next step to everything, and
that simple step can always be taken in a relaxed way
Whenever I am taken by a feeling of overwhelm, resistance, a voice telling me it can’t be done, or procrastination, I go over the principle in my head, sometimes several times, sit still with what needs to be done until I get the simple next step, and then do it—in an as relaxed way as I can.
Hopi Elder
Shelley doesn’t believe me, but I used to be a procrastinator par excellence. That’s before I learned how to break things down. I was taking a two-day workshop on Getting Things Done by David Allen. (I have known David for over 30 years and he has written a bestselling book by the same name). Despite David’s clear and enormously entertaining presentation my head was spinning at all the things I now had to do to get my head clear. I was getting a little spaced out on his lecturette on project management. Somehow my ears tuned to his last words of the lecture, and the workshop, “Even a project for a journey to Mars begins with, ‘Call Fred.’”
The light came on. I wasn’t a great manager or a whiz with technology but knew how to “call Fred.” It then seemed that every few weeks I would read a great article explaining how to break things down into manageable amounts and if it is still unmanageable break it down even further. Even learning Tai Chi Chuan my Internal Boxing instructor, Bob Engel, a former special education teacher, was meticulous about breaking things down for me so I could grasp the moves. Overwhelm ceased. It was all a matter of breaking things down.
That led to Life Design Principle # 5 which states:
There is a simple next step to everything, and
that simple step can always be taken in a relaxed way
Whenever I am taken by a feeling of overwhelm, resistance, a voice telling me it can’t be done, or procrastination, I go over the principle in my head, sometimes several times, sit still with what needs to be done until I get the simple next step, and then do it—in an as relaxed way as I can.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Small Acts
The flaw with words is that they always make us feel enlightened, but when we turn around to face the world they always fail us and we wind up facing the world as we always have, without enlightenment. For this reason, a warrior seeks to act rather than talk, and to this effect, he gets a new description of the world--a new description where talking is not that important, and where new acts have new reflections.
Don Juan in Carlos Casteneda's Tales of Power
For however long I can remember I have found solace in philosophy and day-dreaming. I have long struggled with the idea that one has to "do" something. Believe me, I would much rather make it up in my head. And I did--and enjoyed it. Only recently have I found that I had been imprisoning myself. I had limited my options.
It dawned on me one day that I lived in a world of action, of doing. That everything I perceive with my senses is in constant movement and change. Things weren't getting done in my head, which was becoming more and more like cotton wool, despite the wonderful stories I had made up. And so I found that a small, purposeful act, one in the direction I wanted to go, (for example, it could be Halfland), opened up new options and, as Casteneda says, "new reflections." And I broke out of my prison. Sometimes it is just a minute or 5 minutes that opens doors and possibilities. After all, our life here is just one single moment after the next.
Don Juan in Carlos Casteneda's Tales of Power
For however long I can remember I have found solace in philosophy and day-dreaming. I have long struggled with the idea that one has to "do" something. Believe me, I would much rather make it up in my head. And I did--and enjoyed it. Only recently have I found that I had been imprisoning myself. I had limited my options.
It dawned on me one day that I lived in a world of action, of doing. That everything I perceive with my senses is in constant movement and change. Things weren't getting done in my head, which was becoming more and more like cotton wool, despite the wonderful stories I had made up. And so I found that a small, purposeful act, one in the direction I wanted to go, (for example, it could be Halfland), opened up new options and, as Casteneda says, "new reflections." And I broke out of my prison. Sometimes it is just a minute or 5 minutes that opens doors and possibilities. After all, our life here is just one single moment after the next.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Ulysses
In James Joyce's Ulysses published in 1922, Odysseus the hero of Homer's great classic The Odyssey is recast as Leopold Bloom, an aging salesman. As Matt Blanchard describes in the book The Intellectual Devotional:
Though Bloom seems unassuming and ordinary, he emerges as a heroic figure, displaying compassion, forgiveness, and generosity toward everyone in the odd cast of characters he meets. In his mundane and often unnoticed deeds, he practices an everyday heroism that is perhaps the only heroism possible in the modern world.
I am interested in the everyday heroic acts that are found in the ordinariness of life. Shelley was a hero this weekend. She took a microscopic step in the direction of Halfland. The significance was not in the distance but in the direction.
Though Bloom seems unassuming and ordinary, he emerges as a heroic figure, displaying compassion, forgiveness, and generosity toward everyone in the odd cast of characters he meets. In his mundane and often unnoticed deeds, he practices an everyday heroism that is perhaps the only heroism possible in the modern world.
I am interested in the everyday heroic acts that are found in the ordinariness of life. Shelley was a hero this weekend. She took a microscopic step in the direction of Halfland. The significance was not in the distance but in the direction.
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