Month: April 2018

Photo credit: David Middlecamp  

As I wait for the moon to become visible behind the clouds, I muse about the significance attached to this full moon. April’s full moon is characterized as the Pink Moon because of the colors of the flowers that dot the landscape and decorate the gardens this time of year.  It’s also called the sprouting grass moon. This particular moon is also in Scorpio, which holds meaning for me since my sun sign is Scorpio.

I hesitate to take Astrology too literally, but I am certain that our cycles and energies are affected by the phases of the moon as well as the position of the stars in the sky at the time of our birth. Since our modern culture robs us of our sacred connection to the Earth, the sky, the moon and the stars, I make a point to consider how all these elements of our universe affect us.

According to several astrologers that I consulted today, this full moon marks a time of transformation, a time to tap into your inner powers. Another astrologer named Victor Oddo calls this time a “total paradigm shift.”  He also says something that I find super interesting. He claims that this is a time in the world where we can transcend our problems in a short span of time. We are reminded that we don’t have to attend to all the aspects of our wounded selves. A more efficient way to live is to expand our consciousness. We know we aren’t actually the character that we’ve been playing so we don’t have to perform in the show.

He mentioned a book that sounds intriguing called Disrupt You by Jay Samit that addresses this disruption of perception that can change our way of thinking and disappear our problems in the blink of an eye.

I’m reminded of just how many times that I’ve dreamt that I am in a play and don’t know my lines.  The butterflies in my stomach are on fire and I have to do everything in my power to wake up and get out of this theatrical production for which I have not memorized my lines. What a joy and relief it is once I disrupt the bad dream and free myself from the burden of that performance!

It also reminds me that most of my so-called problems are not problems of survival but of self-actualization in a society that is incapable of affording basic subsistence for the majority of humanity.  No wonder we are distraught, anxious and depressed. If only we can realize our role to repair, revolve, transform our isolating individualism into collectivity and connection.

Goodnight Pink Moon.

Here’s a book that I plan on reading. I learned about this book by way of a search for images of the trickster. I’m posting the cover of the book to remind myself to read it someday and also because I like the image of the winged heels.

For the past several years I have given myself permission to tap back into my creativity.
I lost it a little bit as I grew into adulthood.  This little blog is evidence of my commitment to tapping in, making and sharing, in this case, words and ideas. I’m working up to a post a day. But I’m also trying to work out the flow. So there will be days that I don’t post. I will not strain myself and hurt my body in the name of creativity.  I don’t want to force it. I want to love it.

And so it is with most activities in my life these days. If I’m going to be doing them, I want to love them or at least find the love in them. My days of admiring the tortured artist are over.  The martyr is a tired old, washed up European Dark Ages notion. The martyr takes herself way too seriously. She’s self-righteous and judgemental. She keeps to herself and even sets herself apart from others. Her propensity for self-pity and isolation is damaging. Her depression is imminent. I choose the trickster over the martyr.

I learned this idea from Elizabeth Gilbert in her article entitled, “It’s Better to be a Trickster Than a Martyr.” (which also features a really interesting interview on the subject with Caroline Casey).  “The trickster doesn’t compete, doesn’t compare, doesn’t beat his head against the wall, doesn’t wrestle demons, doesn’t try to dominate mysteries that were never meant to be dominated in the first place. The trickster just keeps on PLAYING. The trickster is slippery and sly, wry and wise, always looking for the secret door, the hidden stairway, the funhouse mirror, the sideways way of looking at things — and the trickster always endures.”

Count me in.

We are not just social animals. We are unable to survive on our own.

I’m pretty certain this is because of our consciousness as humans of the paradox of the cosmos, its significance as well as its void. Without each other’s love, we could sink into the depths of despair of unknowing. I need you as you need me. One person eats the food while the other one looks out for danger.

For years I have written in private journals. For nearly forty years of my life, the journals helped me process daily life. I am so grateful for them. It’s possible that they also caused me to overthink things.  I thank and also curse Monsieur Keplinger for feeding us that steady diet of Existentialist angst. His French classes most definitely helped to grow my overwrought thoughts.

Overthinking is a condition which affects those of us who’ve grown up on capitalism’s pedestal.  We take for granted the stolen land and resources and the violence under the surface of everything. We grow up oblivious to the violence that created our culture so that we should have space and time to pontificate, theorize, agonize and even complain about our troubled, privileged lives. Yes, we are usually afflicted with the condition of overthinking. Overthinking most definitely became my coping mechanism. And I have books and books of it.

I decided to create this blog as a way to imagine an audience and to curtail my propensity to overthink.

Three years ago I drove for Lyft, for one month. I picked up this young tech worker woman. She complained, “I can’t understand why people publish blogs that are just like daily journals. I’m a journalist, so that doesn’t make sense to me. Why would you publish your private journal?!”  Her words affected me. I don’t know why I let this stranger, this  Lyft rider in North Oakland whose name or face I will never remember, affect me so much. But who was she?  But her words held a power over me for some reason, and I felt self-conscious about blogging for several years.

And here I am,  back to journaling, this time in public. Whatever! I say.  It’s ok.
This time I won’t be getting lost in my own thoughts. This time I’ll also be of service to the world and to others.

Leave me a comment, my fellow monkeys. I need you.

(Inspired by William Burrough’s “Color Walks”)

On Friday, spring came back after playing peek-a-boo. After school, I met a friend in Berkeley for a drink and after we part, I decide to take a walk. The bright sunlight gave my spirits a lift and seemed to have a similar effect on the people on the streets around me. To amuse myself, I decide to follow orange.

In various non-European cultures, orange stands for joy, creativity, enthusiasm and even revolutionary ideas. I learn that in Hinduism and Buddhism, it represents fire and purity.

I walked up Parker following the orange zinnias to the orange Prius,  orange trim on the bungalow. My orange reverie is interrupted by my husband who calls to say that the U.S., U.K., and France are launching airstrikes against Syria. We wonder what bloody hell will come of this neverending war the U.S. is engaged in on our planet.?!

I then cross over to Regent Street and spy an orange pylon next to an overflow of orange nasturtiums. Back in the Eighties when I was a student at Berkeley I first learned that these vibrant, showy blooms could be put in salads and eaten.

By the time I see the orange van I’m almost to Williard Park, also affectionately known by community activists as Ho Chi Minh Park, after the bold and powerful leader of the Vietnamese Worker’s Party. Ho Chi Minh, I learn, is the name he gave himself and means, “bringer of light.”  Ho Chi Minh succeeded in leading his people against French colonial rule in Northern Vietnam in 1945 and then against U.S. aggression against his country.

“There is nothing more precious than freedom and independence,” is the Ho Chi Minh quote that I’ve learned through my political education from the Uhuru Movement.

It’s worth learning about the Ho Chi Minh trail, which was really a network of tunnels and trails that extended from North Vietnam through Laos and Cambodia and into South Vietnam, providing logistical support to the Vietcong and the North Vietnamese Army.

I think about students in Berkeley in the Sixties and Seventies, who were not just standing against the U.S. war. They also stood with the revolutionary struggles of the peoples on the planet.

I think of the many people today who are looking for real heroes and leaders, who want to see beyond the lies and fabrications.

The next morning I woke up early to listen to the Black is Back Coalition’s press conference calling for an end to the U.S. Colonial War against Syria. Omali Yeshitela is wearing orange in the video, lighting the way with revolutionary fire.

Afterward, I continue to look for orange and find a connection here. I looked up “anti-war murals” and the one pictured above comes into the search results.  It’s called “Vietnamese” (1975) and is on Bryant and 24th Street.  According to Community Murals/FoundSF this mural is “one of the few anti-Vietnam War murals nationally, and perhaps the only one painted in San Francisco. It reminds viewers that the war’s effects, and our country’s conduct in it, remain with us—infuriatingly true nearly four decades after the mural was painted. A new building (housing World Pioneer Video in 2011) now stands up against the mural’s wall, covering it completely.”

Maybe this is hidden now because the Vietnamese defeated the U.S.?
Yes, she is running, but she is strong as hell, determined and is carrying a baby through the fire (the image in the mural).

Everyone at our school is a bit restless after spring break.

I’m a college and career counselor at a school. My job is all about helping students talk about, prepare for and carry out steps toward their futures. It’s also about helping them deal with the present, which can be heavy at times and other times full of humor and excitement.  I love talking to students, particularly when they are discussing things that light them up – debating issues around social justice, composing meaningful songs, writing plays, playing jazz.

I also know that there is value in just listening and occasionally being able to steer someone in the right direction. Most often once they have talked things out they find that direction for themselves.

The aspect of my job that I like the least is looking at a screen, sending documents, answering emails, printing out transcripts, looking up information, communicating with parents, students, teachers, other counselors, admissions directors, and scholarship coordinators.

On a good day, I can balance these different aspects of my job and come out in one piece.  The days where I’ve spent too much time on the screen drain me. I’ve sat too long, my wrists hurt from clicking and typing and my shoulders and neck are tense.

As my son says, “We’re monkeys.” Meaning monkeys aren’t meant to sit at desks all day. I wonder how other people stay creative and interested while doing tasks that involve typing and staring at a screen? How do we keep our creative vision, our curiosity, our passion? 

I’ve got spring fever and I’m ready to monkey around, just like my students.