Radical Transparency

(in case the other blogs need a friend)

A Ladder to the Stars

Sam: I want to know why you were so interested.
Lee: Well, it seemed to me that the man who could conceive this great story would know exactly what he wanted to say and there would be no confusion in his statement.
Sam: You say ‘the man.’ Do you then not think this is a divine book written by the inky finger of God?
Lee: I think the mind that could think this story was a curiously divine mind. We have had a few such minds in China too.

Thank you, again, East of Eden.

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The studio version of Timshel is track 8 on Sigh No More. Took me more than 10 listens to remember why the word sounded so familiar.

And It Called And Cried

This song has been following me around for more than a week. I turned around and started talking to it yesterday.

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Reminds me of Yes.

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And I love that it called and cried, and it called and cried so. Amazing how much meaning two little letters can add.

The Crane Wife 1 and 2 is track 9 on The Crane Wife. I've Seen All Good People is track 4 on The Yes Album.

To Trounce

When competition for females is fierce, males of some species have evolved bigger testes to trounce their rivals, a new study has confirmed.

I read that a few days ago on National Geographic's Daily News site.

I imagine scarred, tattooed, smiling mice, standing on their hind legs, smoking cigarettes, and swinging their scrotums like maces and chains.

Our Hats

This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have learned at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body....

Walt Whitman wrote that, in his preface to Leaves of Grass.

It's floating around the internets at the moment because Andrew Sullivan blogged about it a couple of days ago.

I've always loved that we shall stand up for the stupid and crazy. Because of course we should doubt what we perceive as crazy and what we define as stupid.

But right now I especially love that we shall take off our hats to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men.

Because bullshit. We should take off our hats. To what's known, because it's not easy to know. To what's unknown, because it's not easy to stay unknown for long. To a man because, stupid or crazy or not, he's one of us. And to a number of men, because if they agree, then we should listen.

But, you're right, Whitman: we shouldn't take off our hats. Not in that way. Not because we're scared or not good or powerful enough. Not because we think we're stupid or crazy.

Afternoon Tea

I watched Invictus last night. On one of those top secret, advance screening, don't-you-dare-share-this-thing-with-anyone-or-the-FBI-will-disappear-you discs that fancy Hollywood people (and everyone that buys good street DVDs in China) know so well.

I don't think it was a very good movie, but I am in wide-eyed drooling awe of Nelson Mandela. Commitment. Courage. Patience. Curiosity.

My favorite moment in the movie was when President Mandela invited the captain of the national rugby team to his office for afternoon tea. He told his guest that the English had given South Africa lots of things but that the best of them was afternoon tea. And then he poured and stirred and sipped and smiled.

So, starting today, I'm going to drink afternoon tea. If it was good for Mandela, it'll be good for me.

Update: I drank my tea yesterday. But not until 845pm PST. An unexpected adventure kept me away from potable water until after dark. And the tea was good, even late. I sat all by myself. No phone or computer. Just the tea. And a pen and a notebook, just in case. Before I took my last sip, I wrote three words. Tea. Eat. Ate. I'm convinced that they're the only three words of their kind: three words, made up of the same three letters, with each letter occupying a different location in each word. Play with them. Spacially. I think they might build fractals. Or fractals' cousins maybe.

Gets

Happiness is the "Big Get." It is the elusive exclusive that will rocket you to fame and fortune. And it is a fiction. I am continually amazed, instead, at the power of the "Little Gets," the moments in the here-and-now that make up the rich stuff of life, not to mention the best material for a story. But I've been steeped in the Happiness Myth, so "consciousness" takes practice. And yet, being fully conscious of the Little Gets, both the pleasurable and painful variety, is its own reward.

Thank you Judy Muller. You make me think of Sir Walter Raleigh. Probably not exactly what you meant to conjure, but words are words.

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I'm So Tired is track 10 on disc 1 of The White Album.

Low Grade, Garden Variety Schizophrenia

Lot of talk last night about the voices in our heads. The sabotage. The doubt. The distraction. Etc.

But I really like the voice in my head.

He's a pain in the ass, of course. Terrifies me sometimes. Not always great at focusing. Or listening.

But we're friends. He has my best interests in mind. Or he tries to.

And he's articulate, curious, not afraid to say anything, and happy to lend me his words and logic.

Weird to remember that he's actually me.

And unsettling to think that there's a not-so-unpopular school of thought telling me to turn off his volume.

Note: This post was written, almost entirely, by the voice in my head. Not sure if that changes anything.

Another Note: Sorry to use the word schizophrenia. It's disrespectful of the people actually struggling with the condition. But the word has meaning that I want to use. So I'm leaving it. Tentatively. Hope that's ok.