a note on CHOOSE

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, July 25, 2008 0 comments
Sparked by the simple realization that the power of choice is one often abdicated, acquitted to immediate climates of circumstance, or reactionary impulses sourced in irate losses of inner control moved outwardly (through violence, hateful words, bad auras of discontent); I was moved to CHOOSE, felt taken over by an inner strength and serenity. This, of course, was followed by the need to expel those sentiments that kept me awake with the inevitable ringing of thoughts and words and essence that comes with 'flashes of insight'.
This realization (which I've had before, which everyone has had to have had) felt so perfect for me in Sioux Falls, South Dakota (good energy environment perhaps?) that then, more than ever,
I trusted everything.
Everyone.
I felt so at home with myself. Comfortable and safe.
Maybe somewhere behind that trust one could call me naïve and gullible. I would ignore the label and smile with appreciation for their lame attempt to negate me (ha). Then I'd perhaps try to soften them with some honey. But I do trust. I trust that even if life throws some dirt in my eye, 'punishes' (double ha) me for being, cocky or too-certain, I could care less because as long as I am treating those around me with the respect I have for myself, I have that power to choose my feelings, the way I see things happening to me.
AND SO DO YOU.
Obviously happiness is a drug that can wear off every now and again. We all have 'reality' to deal with. Bills, bad-energy-people, inconveniences, stains, slips and spills...But constant, true inner peace and placidity is something that can, and does, exist.
TAKE IT.
Here, it's yours.
Please believe that you can hold it. The flame burns. Don't let anyone blow it out.
Don't blow it out yourself.
Because no matter what life throws at me, or you, or your mom, or your best friend- we all have the innate power to choose the way it effects us, or doesn't...(at least when it comes to our moods/inner states.) I'm not sayin we choose to have cancer, have our hearts broken, fall down the stairs, or get into car accidents (actually,...) life can throw us some pretty fked up curve balls. But the snare is, those things come into our lives for a reason. Like a boomerang, negative thoughts will return as physical manifestations. For every action.......
But the power of how we choose to address the things that come in and out of our lives is so wholly entoxicating when you really stop to grab at it that it could actually be scary. There is a sort of absolute control factor within the power of choice that comes with responsibility. A kind of price to pay to yourself, sourced in yourself.
The only thing we really have to fear is that fear. (If you've never actually read that whole speech it comes highly recommended. Oh, how we are starved for good rhetors.)
Battle it out with the power of choice.
The power to CHOOSE TO BE WHO YOU REALLY ARE.
Because fear will try to win.
People will try to spin the top away from you.
Choose to keep going.
Choose to choose.
And let freedom ring.
And let light in.
360°

CHOOSE

by trulymadlydeeply On Thursday, July 24, 2008 0 comments
choose light, choose height
gentle, stoic might
choose smiles and rightfully composed melodies,
songs of trepidation serving lightness heavily
choose your friends wisely
choose to know when it feels wrong
choose the yes and simple kindness, all-empowering blindness
of choosing absolute gratitude, a magnitude of your attitude
choose perfectly shared solitude moved through and through
inner piece outwardly viewed
choose loyalty, authenticity, multiplicity
what is right with the voice of the universe, verse with it consciously
choose recognition, of the coin and its two sides of choices to flip
choose to know you are safe in, no matter the distance of the trip
choose time, let it serve you
connection chooses you who choose it back,
choose to be chosen, choose compatibility of words ringing, thoughts though yet unspoken
sweet and pleasant motion
choose radiation of warmth in objective truth, proof
invisible as it will always be when real
choose gift wrapping with ego-less bubbles,
containing the right for others to choose the right choice, the only one offered
choose your dreams, belief, hopes and faith
choose your destiny
choose the only ONE,
choose your heart
from the start
choose to know
your choice chooses you
so it is, when you choose the TRUTH:
LOVE

DAY ONE

by trulymadlydeeply On Sunday, July 20, 2008 0 comments

I am in a state of semi-lucid delirium. It has been one of those days. I am so ready to shower and get into clean sheets (eeeeeooooohhhhh yes yes yes) but some Planter's trail mix of nuts seeds and raisins just kicked my libido into gear (ha not really) (not the planters). And I am pretty inspired so I wana let it flow from this hotel room in STL. Well, at least a little.
10 hours behind the wheel. 6 states ran through via rte 70W. 3L of bottled water. 5 rest stops. 1 1-hr flight. 8 ciggarettes. 4 Jesus signs of the "he is your eternal savior" variety with one shockingly large cross, 9 CDs of music. and a partridge in a pear tree. (in no particular order).
And a need. A need for speeeeeeeeeeed. hahaho.

Countless encounters with the 'other-side' were made. And the 'other-side' was that of significant 'signage'. And things lining up. With, beyond, above, to the side. Something's kickin in middle-America. Maybe it's all the pastures and fresh air. And crop circles.

But seriously, who gets approached in a gas station convenience store in good ol'farm land Indiana by a 50-something year old man who launches into a conversation about witches (wearing black leggings and a black T likens one to a witch, apparently) overcoming cancer (thanks to alternative, witch medicine), good energy spheres, his lesbian life partner? Opening it all with a drive-by "You look very good". Out of NOWHERE. How do I always attract these things?! I had to ask him to repeat himself because he blind-sided me from behind the Doritos rack. I was just minding my beezwax, checkin out some tacky souvenirs and organic beef jerky. But what was really freaky deeky (not even surprised, really really) was that we had been talking about shamanism and natural holistic healing and energy and all that good (I don't like this label but for lack of a better brain au moment..) 'new-age' stuff. It was just too coincidental, but right on-point coincidental. And then, his left eye (which I've read is the eye of your personality) had a crazy white/translucent/holographic fleck in it that did something strangely intense to me whenever I would stare at it. I think he knew. It felt like my mind was vibrating, knocking around from side to side in my skull when light would bounce off that fleck. It wasn't even a fleck, really. It was like a wormhole into...je ne sais quoi. But wow something crazy. Then 10 minutes later I got the ticket. Voodoo! He told me to go to this site http://www.reluctant-messenger.com/. And talked about toe of wart and tongue of dog and feathers from a Phoenix. As in a plant. That grows back after it's burned and completely disintegrated.

"You can be very creative today because your mind is freed from emotional attachment as you are connecting to a higher spiritual purpose. This isn't just about making an artistic statement; it's about expressing yourself in a way that helps others see their own true nature. Without a lot of effort, you can use your talents now to positively impact the lives of those around you by simply showing up and being yourself."
Well, isn't that something???

Bonne nuit.

digesting all-you-can-eat

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, July 18, 2008 0 comments

I was 16 when I went to Vegas with my mother and her 2 friends. My mother doesn't gamble. I was 16 (ok, so I took my chances on a few slot machines- and won! Managed to even cash-in the paltry winnings myself. they should really look into better staffing...). The slutty (rather maimed-looking) strippers who floated about in the dry desert breeze (flyers) and obnoxious gangs of 'what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas' 20-somethings (no judgement ;) really didn't oil the machine to let the good times roll. The trip is not amongst my top 10, let's just say that. But what I remember most about the 'city'; aside from my itching boredom, US-rendition of the Eiffel tower, oh-so-'risqué' topless showing of Folies Bergere, and an astonishing face-to-face with the sheer volume of old folk smokin on perpetually burning 100's while decked out in fanny packs and nylon track suits; was the, yep- you guessed it (did you?) outrageous Buffet options. All you can eat loses its charm after the first meal. In fact, make that during the piling-on process. Mixing all those options, cooking styles and courses adds up to a very confused palate and, ultimately, an unappetizing stomach ache. Maybe it was just me. Confronted by the ecstasy/panic-inducing smörgåsbord of food freedom, an OD of sorts was bound to happen (too many options can make me dizzy. And we all know when dizziness hits the first thing I grab for is drumsticks - the poultry and ice-cream variety. Hence the stomach aches. Is this is making me sound like an obese person with an insatiable apetite? Nahhhh.) After day-one in Sin City, and from thereon in, I took away the understated importance of moderation as a life lesson learned.

An elephant's memory I may indeed posess (albeit a relatively selective memory), but like Andy Warhol once said, I realize that when it comes to certain things, ''My mind is like a tape recorder with one button -- erase.''

That being said, I've been getting carried away with my library card lately. I think I might even enroll in their Over-Ambitious Readers Anonymous program. One's library card record can be one of those personal, private and voyeuristically tantalizing peer into the realm of 'you are what you eat/read/buy' etc. Sort of like a credit card bill only more 'old-school'. But how many people actually use their library cards (own a library card?) like credit-cards anyway? Oh, that's right- me! If I see it and want it I will check it out (be it on ebay, an asos to amazon shopping cart, or through the wonderful inter-library lending system) even if that means pushing aside the stacks of magazines and books on my bedside table(s) to make room for the newest addition and forcing clothes aside to allow for one (8) more article(s) of clothing in 2 already full-to-capacity closets.

Hold up- wait. What happened to the moderation, Ms. Just Say No to Allyoucaneat? Clearly I can get carried away by the dizziness of new and exciting ideas, images, materials of printed matter, scarves, sunglasses, (<-those 2="" a="" abandon="" all="" am="" and="" anything="" are="" awry="" been="" chemistry="" collecting="" crazy="" do="" dresses="" em="" end.="" experiment="" going="" gone="" have="" hell="" hmm="" hopefully="" horribly="" i="" importantly="" in="" ingest="" it="" late.="" like="" me="" mix="" more="" od="" of="" really="" reckless="" s="" sandals="" shirts="" shoes="" silk="" stick="" take="" the="" these="" they="" this="" time="" to="" unstable="" up="" way="" wear="" when="" which="" will="" with="" words="">really
read. I'm eternally optimistic so I do believe sticking will happen. As for the clothes, they will speak for themselves because I will speak for them (the (wo)man makes the clothes, duh) but then the meaning and pearls of insight and prosiac splendors within veritable content really need the mind to matter, to be mined. They can't just stand on their own can they (if a tree falls and no one is there to hear it does it make a noise???)? If 'true' and aligning with what one holds dearly, they need to be processed and integrated into life. Then maybe, hopefully, shared to add to the 'wealth' of another's basket. It's not as easy as zipping up and strapping into a great outfit or sampling the hottest entre. They (great works of all genres) need us to unpack them. Now more than ever. Good things take work, but the 'rewards' are important. And what is important is never handed out freely (weeds out the true seekers).
And I feel a bit tense if I take the time to reflect on how much crap I've accumulated over the years. I want so badly to organize a garage sale. Clear my chi of things no longer needed. Equally, there needs to be a disk defragmentation. Things are getting pretty compressed up in here.
But like all important things in life, timing is everything. There needs to be an incubation period of collection and fermentation before an important synthesis can be culled. The thing that concerns me is the pace.

I am of the belief that ever since the industrial revolution, and even before that, with the advent of the printing press (the written word even!?), society has been forging ahead with a speed and voracity that might be all-too-much. We don't unpack enough. We've got all this information and abundance (in the developed world, at least) and, like the latest and greatest in phone, computer, gaming technology, in some respects, it has become more about out-doing yourself (and the competition) and less about actually capitulating on the essentials already layed out for us (back in the day, day and even just yesterday). Progress yes. But in what direction, to what ends, at what costs? Would a return to the basics be asking too much at the point we've reached? For once the comfort has been integrated, it becomes so much a part of the 'given' that to imagine life without it would be a total
We've all felt it- leave home without your cell, PDA, BlackBerry, you know what I'm sayin.
What to do, what to do?

The months move frighteningly fast, the passage of time pin-pointed by the reception of a new issue when I've yet to finish (or start) last month's Vogue, Bazaar, Wired, Vanity Fair, Print. Thank the blueskies for the bibliothèque's renewal option.

Making a conscious choice to press pause every now and again, is that even possible? Like the stomach and body which runs so smoothly and continuously on its own, we must not forget to tend to other arenas which need our help in maintenance and growth. Because as tempting as it is to let time do as it will, is that all we're here for?

I don't want to stop piling it on my plate (not entirely at least). I (we all) just have to make sure the choices are the right ones, in the right portions. How to gauge? Your gut/heartburn will tell you.
_______________________________________________

Unconventional occupation of the day: Faux Food Maker
"Looks So Real - Lasts a Lifetime!"

"How the world sees you depends on how you see the world"
- HSBC ad in airport.

And I leave this post like Randy Watson starting @ 0:04 and then again at 0:12:


Re-petition

by trulymadlydeeply On Saturday, July 05, 2008 0 comments
Have you ever played tennis against a garage door? And yourself?


Just you and the door bouncing you back to you. It's great.


There's something so soothing about repetition, something that can get you in the zone so nice and snug that you manage to iron out all the twittering in your head until it's just you, your breath, backhand backhand again now volley, forward, straight, step right run back left backhand boom too high now the ball bounced off into the damp grass.


Pick up, serve, repeat.


Until the light disappears. And you can manage to slightly make out the ball only because of its neon green nature.


But it's trippy this back and forth with the garage door because although you are serving yourself, that damn ball still manages to get a life of its own and bounce off in an unanticipated direction.


Hey, I thought I was sending it that way?


That's probably why I take such long showers.


Lather-rinse-repeat.


Music gets it in the zone too.


Listening to that one song of the moment over and over again...new layers make it to your ear even after the 43rd time you've heard it. "oh wow I've never heard that din, tin, tin in the background before."


Man that's exciting.


Maybe that's one of the marks of a great music maker.


Getting something so right-on that it surprises you with something new even after months or years of listening to it.


Running does it too. In the zone that is...


And the familiar repetition of a yoga routine.
Turns it inside out so that you're in the zone on the inside, at home.


Funny, because as much as I despise routine, when it's reduced down into its micro-state of repetition within a small space of time, movement, feeling, experience, it just snaps everything into place.


It forces you to pay attention and enjoy.


Well, hopefully.


There's nothing worse than watching someone next to you struggle against a position that is supposed to unify your mind, body, concentration, breath. It really fks with me sometimes, I can feel their tense energy crossing the line of our yoga mats.


When it does happen, I use it to concentrate and get deeper.


So thanks, I guess...


Où est-ce que je vais là ? Dans cette passage, dans cette mirage. Hier soir j'ai commencé a me parler. Et bien entendu. Puis j'ai chanté, des paroles, du prose, en Anglais, en Français.


Les mots sortaient sans aucun synapse.


Comme ça, sans effort. Et j'ai rimé.


J'étais toute seule, en fumant un oinj dans le hamac en bas de chez moi...Les feux d'artifices explosaient tout autour de moi.


Mais je voyais rien. Rien du tout. Toute seule avec les sons. Et les lucioles qui clignotaient.


Neon lights from those fireflies clicked in time with the fireworks.


They're doing it again tonite.

Re-peat.

Airborne, light show

I'm Feelin' It

by trulymadlydeeply On Thursday, July 03, 2008 0 comments

"Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom.

Far from idleness being the root of all evil, it is rather the only true good.

Boredom is the root of all evil - the despairing refusal to be oneself.

Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.

During the first period of a man's life the greatest danger is not to take the risk.

I begin with the principle that all men are bores. Surely no one will prove himself so great a bore as to contradict me in this.

It seems essential, in relationships and all tasks, that we concentrate only on what is most significant and important.

Just as in earthly life lovers long for the moment when they are able to breathe forth their love for each other, to let their souls blend in a soft whisper, so the mystic longs for the moment when in prayer he can, as it were, creep into God.

Not just in commerce but in the world of ideas too our age is putting on a veritable clearance sale. Everything can be had so dirt cheap that one begins to wonder whether in the end anyone will want to make a bid. (19th Century!!!!!)

It belongs to the imperfection of everything human that man can only attain his desire by passing through its opposite.

Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste that they hurry past it.

Once you label me you negate me.

People understand me so poorly that they don't even understand my complaint about them not understanding me.

Personality is only ripe when a man has made the truth his own.

The highest and most beautiful things in life are not to be heard about, nor read about, nor seen but, if one will, are to be lived.

The more a man can forget, the greater the number of metamorphoses which his life can undergo; the more he can remember, the more divine his life becomes.

The truth is a snare: you cannot have it, without being caught. You cannot have the truth in such a way that you catch it, but only in such a way that it catches you.

Concepts, like individuals, have their histories and are just as incapable of withstanding the ravages of time as are individuals. But in and through all this they retain a kind of homesickness for the scenes of their childhood.

People demand freedom of speech as a compensation for the freedom of thought which they seldom use."

I find this way TOO COOL, what a G that Søren...

"Half of Kierkegaard's authorship was written behind the mask of several pseudonymous characters he created to represent different ways of thinking. This was part of Kierkegaard's indirect communication. According to several passages in his works and journals, such as The Point of View of My Work as an Author, Kierkegaard wrote this way in order to prevent his works from being treated as a philosophical system with a systematic structure. In the Point of View, Kierkegaard wrote: "In the pseudonymous works, there is not a single word which is mine. I have no opinion about these works except as a third person, no knowledge of their meaning, except as a reader, not the remotest private relation to them." Kierkegaard used indirect communication to make it difficult to ascertain whether he actually held any of the views presented in his works. He hoped readers would simply read the work at face value without attributing it to some aspect of his life. Kierkegaard also did not want his readers to treat his work as an authoritative system, but rather look to themselves for interpretation."

He would be a 5.


dorkus maximus

by trulymadlydeeply On Tuesday, July 01, 2008 2 comments
Just ordered this book...


Don't know what's in store for me but I'm very much excited to see what lies in those pages.

Much-too-much in this me to let pour out right now.

.....j'arrive

P.S., proof: only a dorkus maximus would involuntarily scream out of pure, unadulterated excitement upon hearing the words "precious commodity" at a rock concert.

::blushing..pushes (non-existant) spectacles up bridge of nose..

in-terpretive

by trulymadlydeeply On Wednesday, June 25, 2008 1 comments
Last night I was invited to see the Biarritz Ballet company perform at the Joyce theater, an intimate little venue with crushed red-velvet seats where you can see every ripple of stringently worked muscle, hear the squeaking of tense toes against the floorboards and the smacks of skin-on-stage or skin-on-skin as the dancers splayed across the floor and/or one another. Perfect. The little things make it count for much more.

I accepted with zero hesitation, broke a date with myself and a yoga mat without a second thought. I don't mind it and therefore, my body doesn't either. It was a no-brainer.

Those kinds of 'decisions' are the most fun, the most fulfilling, because of their simple black-and-white nature. They present themselves to you out of nowhere (for me, very little beats the engaging thrill of spontaneity) and you just know which way to go. No debating over grey shades of doubt. Yoga can wait until tomorrow. Biarritz doesn't come around everyday.

Mmm Biarritz, what lovely memories I have of you, darling city by the sea. That small link gave me an additional initiative to accept, made me desirous to witness their dance spectacle sur scène. Needless to say, the show was superb. Ironically, dinner following was with a friend of a friend, a contemporary choreographer who's worked with decidedly more 'modern' (read: urban, street, pop) personas. I guess dance emerged as the theme of the evening. To boil it down even further: the body and its interpretations of/synthesis with sound.

Driven by bodily pursuits from a young age, I always derived esteem and satisfaction from my own facile ability to control and contort with immediate results. But watching the dancers' rigorous control and incarnation of classical notes and modern symphonies (based off the artistic interpretations and visions of Thierry Malandain "[who] examines the dialogue between contemporary art and historical heritage via the worlds of Velasquez and Ravel in two new pieces, Le Portrait de l’Infante and L’Amour Sorcier.") set my mind off on tangents equally inspired by and having little to do with (at least not in a direct sense) dance. And that's kinda the thing about dance, motion. You can't leave your skin and see it, but you can feel it, you dictate and control from a position of singular knowing. And if your brain is wired to connect the hearing with the interpretation and its appropriate rythmn into motion, you could potentially turn into a living stereo. What territories are there to be imagined and fleshed out? What symbiosis can come of a well-meshed knitting of senses?! All 5 of them...6?

I didn't read the show's synopsis beforehand. Much of the time I wasn't even trying to find meaning within the movement as related to the music, scenery, costume, artisitc vision...itself (to get meta on you)... I sort of just let it find me, if that makes sense... For some of the time, I could say that their performance served as a very peace-inducing atmosphere for daydreaming. I wondered, what were all these other eyes and minds around me seeing? Feeling? Were they picking apart the costumes, appreciating the second-skin-like quality of the taupe and transparent fabric? Could they 'see' the numerical patterns and ratios between the men and women on stage, coupled-up, juxtaposed, in combinations, flowing, in-out, lift up, lay down, 3, 6, 7, 8, 14, 5? Now circle around the center 2, the magic lovers, they sway and send the others scattering to one times 12. Did they also marvel at the amazing development of the human body, scrutinize the abs of the different girls weaving on and off stage, the quads and arms and buttocks and...of the male dancers, all moving together- yet apart? And what about Thierry and the dancers? They'd labored in the studio, working together to combine his vision and intent with a structured performance. Something like a bundle of wheat in the wind held together by a red thread..(oh my was that one poetic! hahah) What benefit does the company reap? Benefits so entirely different and inaccessible to the audience. Whereas, possibly, they have the dual ability to appreciate their work as an audience (on video) and in the real, as the work itself, breathing life into a vacant theater.

Was/is the goal soley to get people to see what you want them to? Artists can be oh-so-ego! Or could their creation be a loving, ego-free desire to express this deep human need to create for and, in so doing, relate to, those people who search out (or stumble upon) your production? I guess it would depend on the person(s)... Shared communities are the most potent of human creations, possibly more so than the roots from which the tree grows... However, (and today there would seem to be a bottomless well of 'howevers') does the sum of its parts necessarily equate that the tree won't be knocked over? Are not the roots the safest and most stable? And although we may never know the nature of our interpretations as compared to our neighbors, we can still rest assured that an appreciation for what we witness together ties the room into a dusty pink ballet bow.

How many times have words, symbols, intentions and their artistic syntheses been misconstrued and misinterpreted? How slightly frustrating it must be when there are specific meanings to be taken to heart and they are instead picked apart, meat thrown to the left, bones to the right. No, no, no! You were supposed to enjoy the drumstick as such! And what about the sauce and spices!? You totally missed those!!! No, now you're mucking it up with your artificial dip!

Maybe those who 'get it' are those who stay slightly hungry. Tip-toeing the brink of lost and found. Surroundings and sounds in constant flux while the state stays singular balancing from the one beating source, performing a steady tight rope walk til the end. The journey gets easier, more enjoyable with each and every step while a certain tension ensures nothing escapes them.


The Over-Soul

by trulymadlydeeply On Thursday, June 12, 2008 0 comments
"We live in succession, in division, in parts, in particles. Meantime within man is the soul of the whole; the wise silence; the universal beauty, to which every part and particle is equally related, the eternal ONE. And this deep power in which we exist and whose beatitude is all accessible to us, is not only self-sufficing and perfect in every hour, but the act of seeing and the thing seen, the seer and the spectacle, the subject and the object, are one. We see the world piece by piece, as the sun, the moon, the animal, the tree; but the whole, of which these are shining parts, is the soul."

Started a

today.

What took me so long to catch those loose particles of desired life experience and put them on paper? Guess I've been pretty complacent and content as far as that's concerned. But oh I do love shakin' the snow globe, watching the flakes of fake snow flicker in a decidedly deciduous descent.
Uppin' the ante with this grocery roll.
Some of these things I'm coming up with...shhhhh-ucks!
Then Pablo goes n says "If you know exactly what you are going to do, what is the point in doing it?"
Good point Pico. Opens up a pandoras box of concept-art considerations...
But he can't deny (mostly b/c he's dead, r.i.p.) the fact that, when it comes to LIFE and living things, experience is second to none.

breaking the, a shaping of, visual dictionaries

by trulymadlydeeply On Tuesday, June 10, 2008 0 comments

the shape of air - of what's not there yet every
where your inner mindseye workings work the same
and the outer projection catches itself in the reflection
like swapped ambigrams, millions of gigs in ram
workout to dejected indigo strummings
put up against echos in toned bright voices, vices
sounds like sunlight, helps through the timelight
on cover for the somewhat mad choices, prices
of a toll covered in advance of itself
an ezpass to the tick of a raw clock
keepin beat to counter the challenge of swing
escapement intended as delighted 'punishment'
counter the grind with discretion of intention
complete the volley and ace
hit love all, ya get those card games
like Clapton meant, anyone for tennis?
a deck above the rest of solid hard wood polished
take a head trip down memory lane
sayin' i'll walk today because it feels like
this runaway might really need some Kelly, sweat-in' Genes
and I live to move to the groove of sinnnngin in the brain



dot dot dot

by trulymadlydeeply On Tuesday, June 10, 2008 2 comments
Your Personality is like a narrow entrance hall to the great room that is your true nature

Ashton Kutcher, on Women

by trulymadlydeeply On Thursday, June 05, 2008 1 comments
Although it irritates me that Bazaar, one of my favorite magazines, has, in the past 3 years, been skimping way too much on written content, it does please me when the content they do have is share-worthy.

The general principal of "it works both ways" built into Kelso’s commentary on women is something that I find can be extracted from the context of the article and the magazine it was printed in and applied as a simple yet effective rule to ‘The Way Things Work’. I have a feeling he n Moore’s mystic bond through Kabala has something to do with this elucidated stance...(meme si je connais presque rien sur le sujet de Kabala)…

TO ALL WOMEN: KNOW YOUR SOUL AND STAND BY IT.
I hope that the lost females out there who find themselves in broken relationships, constant cat-fights, subsisting off of crazy day-to-day fabricated toxic drama and bullshit, well, I hope you gals make it.

Now here's this, coming from a man...


suit-up...your multiple personas for this one...

by trulymadlydeeply On Thursday, May 29, 2008 9 comments

I'm not gonna dip my toes in here, the water temperature is fine, no matter the temperature.

If Freud is correct in his conclusion that the 'civilized' (and, in his eyes, to an extent, neurotic) adult internalizes the authority figure, therein referred to as the superego, then inside, in our invisible selves, alongside the primal and naturally existing child, lives a parental essence. This essence is necessary in our world, in society. It is the voice that tells us to play nice after we've thrown sand into the eyes of that kid who tried to steal our doll (Barbie, GI-Joe; pick your side- and there goes another layer of identity). It is the impulse that, long after we've left the house and the kid-size sheets, gets us into the bathroom to 'go' before we leave on a trip (be it to the store or across the world), the same impulse that follows us into parenthood when we go on to spawn little versions of ourselves...The holographic effect is mind boggling when considering multiple generations and if you are lucky, you have grandparents or great grandparents to shed such perspective on the evolutionary journey to 'you'.


So if, as many gurus and teachings say, striving to live in accordance with the child inside us is the epitome of being true and right- the path to happiness, then this fax should help give us all some great guidelines, whether you're a parent, child, adult, teen, tween, or (wo)man-child. Children are so crucial, fragile, important.


My boss is Jewish and periodically gets Aish HaTorah's Shabbat Shalom Fax. Mazel Tov!!

He throws them in the bin but I usually scoop them out, finding them to be rather interesting.

Oh, you Jews...thanks for being, well, Jew! (ba-dum-chhhh)


So basically (ha), if we step outside of ourselves and enable the superego (parental essence) to treat our inner child as such ^, we should all be better off for it. And even if, by no fault of their own doing (blame communism, war, previous bad parenting, poverty, wealth, insolence, paparazzi, vanity, etc, etc, etc) our own parents may have been unable to provide us with the full scope of 'what children want', it's never too late to gift ourselves what we all deserve.

What's more, we'll then be equipped with the tools to treat those around us, child or not, with equal accord.

"It's 10pm. Do you know where your children are?"

in-spired

by trulymadlydeeply On Sunday, May 25, 2008 6 comments
This video gives me the urge to launch into a full-out discourse on the process of creation (which I can't, won't; at least not here). Let me dabble though...
In my mind, I'm linking it to the creations I saw by Cai Guo-Qiang at the Gügg (pronounced goooog, that's Lx vernacular for Guggenheim) back in March. The intricate and wordlessly creative steps taken to achieve a physical representation of the limitless landscape of the unseen mind... mah mah mah... I love it.

Inspiration renders inspired inspiration. Toward creation. The question is, which came first? the Inspired, Inspirer or the Inspiree? What's what, who's who? As long as you're in the game, shouldn't that be all that counts? There's no beggining and no end, really. It's all just a chain-link fence stretching from one horizon to the next, chasing sunsets and sunrises, dawn and dusk capturing the moments of transition with sprays of subtle tones and hues. Shades and notes and hints of sound and tinged painterly strokes brought out of absolutely nowhere. And everywhere. Simultaneously. With a fluid motion that brings change witnessable only as an after-thought, if captured and retained. And if not, we always have tomorrow. It repeats. It's all about cycles, mama Earth lets this be known, at least to those looking for it, to those with open recesses. And then we try to re-acheive it from the blending of pigments from a tube. Or whatever your medium may be. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, they say. We should all be flattered. We 'artists'. Oh well. Let us all try to be the masters of our creation.

And hopefully learn in the process that the fun comes when we let it take us over. The degree of which is entirely controllable. Or is it? By whom? Are we ever really in control? Maybe when we accept the possibility that the answer was and is and will always be no... The reigns then fall into our lap. At that crucial moment when our heads were turned towards the scenery riding by us, our noses deep into fragrant breaths of sweet airs. Apreciation shall always be rewarded, the act itself is inherently so, wouldn't you say? There are so many factors to consider when considering art and its origin, synthesis, release into the public domain. As many factors as there are people on this planet, would that be going too far? Yet every once and a while...
Grab a hold of the moment. At every moment. While still letting go, giving in to it. Maybe that's the secret to the skill of living. Yet skills imply pre-determined results. There's that control factor again. Curious. I am rattling on and on here. One pot (3 mini-tazza) of Italian caffè in the making in my veins...
I digress...Let this talkie do the talkin


And I find it entirely too funny that the user name of the person who uploaded this video is popefucker. The strangest things get me gigglin. Selectively Random is best.

somewhere...

by trulymadlydeeply On Saturday, May 17, 2008 0 comments
.concealed by transparency
..entre ici et la
...head over the rainbow
....trailing on the heels of
.....inside inner 3motion
....that's not at home, out and about
...more comfortable than
..surrounded by white walls
.colored in loud tones of hue
by trulymadlydeeply On Sunday, May 04, 2008 1 comments
real juxtaposed to
woven threads of man-made skil
spring flesh of edo

ma bootlegged book club (mbbc)

by trulymadlydeeply On Tuesday, April 29, 2008 0 comments

good friday

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, April 25, 2008 3 comments
A woman handed this flyer to me on the street last week. I thought it was a nice little thing to have happen but didn't really give it much thought. It's been sitting on my desk innocently, just some nice bright words I've been unconsciously catching in the corner of my mind. I took the time to go to the site today. Seems like these sorts of programs are growing in number, people are into it, seeing past the surface more and more. Not a bad thing...

"...escape is a paradox, because a childhood is locked in that music box..."
- Atmosphere : 'In Her Music Box'

"In the last few days, I've been learning how to not trust people and I'm glad I failed. Sometimes we depend on other people as a mirror to define us and tell us who we are. And each reflection makes me like myself a little more" .... "Trust everyone but always cut the cards. Best thing my father ever taught me. You know what that means? It means never trust anybody"

- my blueberry nights

____________________________________


convo with a wifey aka psycho babel


[10:29] Emy: ya but I know him and he prob wont wanna pay
[10:29] acm: you know him
[10:29] acm: lol
[10:29] acm: try to throw that out the window
[10:29] Emy: hahahhahahaah
[10:29] acm: flip it
[10:29] Emy: what
[10:29] acm: perspective
[10:31] Emy: hmm like look at it through his eyes
[10:32] acm: mm not necessarily
[10:33] acm: idk we all have filters
[10:33] acm: you kno? from habit
[10:33] Emy: what im not gettin you
[10:33] acm: and we don't allow things to just BE, we judge based on bias and things that may or may not be certain but we fill them with certainty bc we need something off which to judge a situation by
[10:34] acm: so we can react
[10:34] acm: and it can be predictable in a sense
[10:34] acm: its a survival mechanism i think
[10:34] acm: like something to protect our expectations so we know how to deal with them
[10:34] acm: but we don't realize that they are in fact controlling us
[10:34] acm: driving cycles of not always healthy psychological processes
[10:35] Emy: so your saying let it be
[10:35] acm: i guess
[10:35] acm: lol
[10:36] acm: THANKS BEATLES

TEARS OF JOY

by trulymadlydeeply On Thursday, April 24, 2008 4 comments
This entry is a work in progress. Like Life. I want to hit enter when everything I feel I need to say is in here. But I am impatient and I want to release these things as soon as they are composed. I don't even know who will read it. I don't care. I just want it out there. Liberated for chance to deliver to the eyes and head and hearts of whoever it may.

These words do not begin to define...
2008 : ∞ : 2+0+0+8 : 1
This year's magintude cannot be more evident for me, in my own life, and the lives of those in the world around me. A guy stopped in the street when he saw me reading Blue Like Jazz. Sitting on a bench in the sun for my lunch break. He paused to tell me he had just finished the book. I was nearly done myself. I told him "there's no such thing as a coincidence" and he responded with "you got that right." The randomness of my choice of response kept me thinking for a few seconds. I felt kind-of awkward to have said that to a stranger but I meant what I said and I said what I meant. He kept walking. I turned around, watched him leave. I wanted him to stay. To talk and just, stay. I teared. I kept reading. And with the next sentance began the most important part of the book, came the most holistic, fused, nugget, core, heart of life, call it what you can, what you may, whatever dreams will work their way into words. It doesn't matter. No words can explain the sentiments that those words offered. I kept reading, tears of joy came to my eyes, I got that tight feeling in my throat and chest. I got up, read while walking. All the crosswalks were white. All the people parted for me. I didn't have to look up. Something guided me back. I heaved in the elevator, alone and f***ing vibrating. With a power and wholeness. It's fleeting. But all I can hope for is to preserve the feeling with a feeble composition. Maybe it will help. Something. Someone. I just want to be of service. To love. To love and to be of service. This is not religious. This is not about institutions. This is about the only things that really matter. In the end, it doesn't matter but this isn't the end. This is here and now. The present is infinate. And that we cannot wrap our minds around. The present is eternal. The present is a GIFT. That's why it's called the PRESENT.



In high school I came across these words from Walt Whitman (or rather, they came across me?):
Re-examine all you have been taught at school, in church, or read in any book. Dismiss whatever insults your soul and your very flesh shall be a great poem.



Questions:
What does time afford you? What does it bring? At what point do the nonnegligible differences in age dissipate? (I looked that word up to see if it existed and google popped this out: The Nonnegligible Lightness of Gravity) What qualifies as a nonnegligible difference?

What's with all the questions?







It's the: eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight

by trulymadlydeeply On Sunday, April 06, 2008 0 comments

Quote Me: The Unbearable Lightness of Being

by trulymadlydeeply On Tuesday, April 01, 2008 1 comments
"They are composed like music. Guided by his sense of beauty, an individual transforms a fortuitous occurrence into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the compositions of the individual's life ... Without realizing it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of great distress ... It is right to chide man for being blind to such coincidences in his daily life. For he thereby deprives his life of a dimension of beauty."

"It is completely selfless love: Tereza did not want anything of Karenin; She did not ever ask him to love her back. Nor has she ever asked herself the questions that plague human couples: Does he love me? Does he love anybody more than me? Does he love me more than I love him? Perhaps all the questions we ask of love, to measure, test, probe, and save it, have the additional effect of cutting it short. Perhaps the reason we are unable to love is that we yearn to be loved, that is, we demand something (love) from our partner instead of delivering ourselves to him demand-free and asking for nothing but his company. "

Bigger than My Body

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, March 28, 2008 0 comments
hit a new level, and it hit me back
realizing the fresh and profound
with each listen i take with my heart
and my head of his sound
new meanings
break on through to the other side
all alone on this shared ride between unseen ties
felt to the core
and starting to realize 'it's not just me' anymore
what is up, where is down?
in the balance it's found
playing with the blocks of life strong and steady
in my own head all alone and feeling at perfection
while standing next to you,
who have joined me in solitary companionship love



the wages of dying is love ..... music !

by trulymadlydeeply On Sunday, March 23, 2008 0 comments
"...and you're looking for allies, you're looking for satellites, across the great divide
moving in circles, turning to someone else,
with nothing left to hide"

Saw them at Mercury Lounge last night. New musical discoveries never cease to excite and inspire.

Who Is Prabhupada Sticker Campaign

by trulymadlydeeply On Sunday, January 23, 2000 0 comments
Thank you so much for participating in this project and for your donation.

Funds received cover production and shipping costs of the stickers.

Jai Srila Prabhupada!


Extended Bio

by trulymadlydeeply On Friday, September 27, 1985 4 comments
Introduced to meditation and conscious breathing techniques at 7, I began practicing yoga asana at 15, a natural, albeit less competitive, complement to my sporty teenage years. After 8 years of a steady practice, 5 of which took place in Paris where I was studying (Art History & International Communications), traveling, working and living, I began training with Ashtanga-master David Hollander in New York City.

I enrolled in the New York Yoga Society’s teacher training at Ananda Ashram with the goal to not only deepen my own practice and expertise, but more importantly, to develop the scriptural familiarity and practical skills necessary to transmit and empower others in accessing their constant and higher selves, to experience the transformation that yoga engenders.

I’ve worked with a variety of communities; from 3-year-olds, to high-school students with the non-profit Bent on Learning in NYC public and charter schools; through to 85-year-olds. I’ve trained seasoned tennis pros, work with artists and creatives, and had the distinct honor to participate in the work of performance artist Marina Abramović for the 2011 MoCA Gala. That same year, I brought yoga to Mexico City for the Micheal Bublé band, and organized, produced, and taught a benefit yoga class for the music-integration charity Guitars in the Classroom, in cooperation with the music-photography and art gallery, the Morrison Hotel.

In 2011, my work was published in Volume I of The Poetry of Yoga, a ground-breaking book sourcing work from around the globe, resounding the voices of our generation’s yogis and poets. You can find some of my written work published at my site here.

Traveling, ancient wisdom texts, and the arts are a continual source of inspiration and engagement in my life and I seek to develop my teaching offering by incorporating writing, music, and cross-cultural references as complementary tools for healing, unification and discovery.

2012-2013 saw me traveling and deepening my understanding of (Bhakti) yoga in some of India's holiest places, specifically, Vrindavan and Mayapur.

Currently, I am teaching at The Bhakti Center and serving as part of the core development team at Supersoul Farm, school and retreat center in upstate New York.

By the grace of wonderful guidance from and connections with Raghunath Cappo, Dhanurdhara Swami, HH Radhanath Swami, and His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, I am able to learn from the source of Supreme wisdom and truth. My infinite thanks.

I look forward to meeting and sharing this rich practice with you soon.
______________________

Get stronger where you can
Become softer when you must,
Because you know you must-
To listen and hear closely,
An indispensable plus
Are you here to own your life
And commit to all the moments?
Or fuss and watch it all go by
From the sidelines of too much unproductive silliness
The art is in discrimination
Knowing when to _____ (act, speak, retreat, fill 'er in),
To carry stillness with you,
Reading signs and seasons from its map
Designing from smart fact,
Your life begins to shine
Feeling good about your choices
Can happen all the time
Just shifting your sights slightly
May align you with pure grace
Take a moment to invite it
And feel the power in your days


 First time in a Photomaton booth Feb. '11, Paris.
Lots of fun :)

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Je suis une fille qui sais que
d'aimer trop sauve la vie. Je suis, je serai toujours, entraine d'etre sauvé pendant cette vie. Pourtant, la balance se cherche en tous que je touche. Mais pour l'amour, y aura jamais moins que tous. C'est ça, blank blank fullness

MogaYoga

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