On music and enlightenment

 

 

I’m a bit of a contrary person. As much as I love my indie music – my punk, post-punk, psychedelic, prog rock et al, I also love classical music – most rabidly I adore Impressionist music, ie the French composers Debussy and Ravel primarily, and the Russian Late Romantics (Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff). Dreamy, ethereal, often melancholic impressionist music evocative of the romanticized era of beautiful girls in white muslin dresses and the Picnic at Hanging Rock. Listening to this is a way to bliss out that is better than any drug.


Caricature of Claude Debussy by Ralph E Lara

Read More

Walkabout

‘Walkabout’ by Nicolas Roeg (1971)

On the surface this looks to be a film about two upper class English children (a 14yo girl and a 6yo boy) who are abandoned in the Australian outback. They are ‘saved’ by the fortuitous arrival of a 16yo Aboriginal boy who is on walkabout (a coming of age ritual where the boy goes out by himself for 6 months, either survives or doesn’t, and comes back to the tribe a man).

It is SO much more than that. This film was so far ahead of it’s time. On the most noticeable level, I suppose you could say, is the pure beauty of the film. The cinematography is breathtaking. This is a stunning visual poem. The score and the landscape combine to be more than just backdrop – they combine to be a character all by itself.

There are so many themes to this movie. The way European society has a cliched view of the Aborigines for a start (particularly back in 1971 – when Aborigines had only been given the right to vote in 1967, and Australia’s immigration policy of a “White Australia” wasn’t fully abolished until 1973).

The point this film makes about the way European culture looks at Kooris (being Aboriginals), especially back then, was really really interesting. Apart from the obvious arrogance and ignorance, that sense of disconnection and inability (and unwillingness from a European point of view anyway) to communicate was strong. How the little boy, still an innocent, communicates much better with the Koori boy than a girl who has been educated and “programmed” to fit with the trappings of a superficial society.

Disconnection – again – of European society and culture from the environment.We build these awful ugly buildings. We wall ourselves off from the environment. I loved the images of the environment ‘meeting up with’ (or coming smack bang against) civilization. It seemed harsh and abrupt in a lot of places – where people are in control. But then, with the derelict farmhouse, nature is slowly encroaching on what we have left behind. The greenery so slowly crossing the boundaries, where people have been absent and aren’t in control. We and everything we build are ephemeral, in the bigger picture of time.

The landscape itself appears to become lusher as the English children and the Koori boy interact more and are more comfortable together. When the girl in particular is allowing herself to interact more with the Koori boy … there are obvious sexual and erotic undertones to the movie. Even the landscape – trees – become erotic subjects (crotch-shots of trees?!). Eventually the trio happen upon an old abandoned derelict farmhouse, come to something the girl in particular clings to as part of civilization, all of her communication with the Koori boy is once again disconnected – to the point of there being no understanding whatsoever.

There are some very surreal scenes of ‘civilized’ whites intercut within the movie. There are many similarities made – when the Koori boy hunts and kills a kangaroo and butchers it for food, the scene is interspersed with cuts of butchers chopping up meat. When we see the Koori boy hunting for animals to eat, we also see white hunters killing buffalo for sport, and leaving the bodies there to rot.

I will not reveal how the movie ends in case anyone wants to watch it. But I will say this – if you like Hollywood blockbusters where you can sit on your arse, have it all presented to you on a plate and you don’t have a thought in your head, this movie is not for you. If you can’t stand arty movies – don’t watch this one. If you need plot and fastpaced action – steer clear of it. This is a movie for people who appreciate art and beauty, who want to think. OH – and one important thing. There are scenes in this movie I found extremely difficult to watch. In fact, I turned away. And these are the scenes of animals being killed. These looked so real, that I wonder if … presume acutally, that they were.

There is a very good reason that this is touted as one of the best movies ever made. You won’t be able to watch this once. It will haunt you, stay with you, and you will have to own it. It is deeply, deeply moving, and at times tragic. It is a masterpiece on so many levels. And … it has that 70’s avante guard thing happening.

Brilliant. Please watch. You won’t be disappointed. (And now I am going to watch The Emerald Forest – finally.)

I’m glass, I’m a moon-child, and I’m purple

That is what am. At least today.

This is one of those boringly personal and introspective think as I write posts. I don’t usually like to post in the middle of the day (Australian time at least) because quite frankly I should be doing ‘other things’. But today I need to get this out of my maudlin head.


Marcus Graham and Eloise Oxer in they Sydney Theatre
Company’s production of “The Glass Menagerie”, 2002.

I feel a lot like Laura in The Glass Menagerie. Or I feel like one of the figurines in Laura’s menagerie. Or both … after all Laura is just like one of her precious glass pieces – beautiful, delicate, fragile, translucent. Delicate, fragile and translucent I definitely identify with right now (translucent meaning more that you can see right into my middle, than right through me, I guess I would prefer to say). Forget about the beautiful.

Read More

Monkey Mind and Grasping a Snake

A monkey sees a beautiful shining
sphere in a deep pool. The excited
creature leans out precariously to
grab it, but can’t reach far enough. If
the monkey lets go he will fall into
the dark water. Yet if he pulls back
into the trees the quest will have
been abandoned.



“Monkey mind” – a Buddhist term:

Thoughts that pull attention here and there become obsessive [or a mind that jumps from one thing to the other incessantly]. Feeding the monkeys is buying into the show of proliferating thought, reifying it, being led off by it. It is taking thought too seriously. A related metaphor is the allegory of a monkey stretching as far as he can to grab the reflection of the moon in water. He cannot understand that he is looking in the wrong place. – from “Don’t Feed the Monkeys”.


I have a chronic monkey mind. It never stops chattering. (OS: speaking of which, I really miss “Monkey” what a series that was – remember Tripitaka, Piggy and of course Monkey? That was serious good fun 🙂 ) Eric Maisel’s “Coaching the Artist” has a good exercise in there on quieting the mind to the point where there is no thought. He calls it ‘hushing’. Like that’s possible??!!

I have found one place where my mind can stay still (and it’s not sleep LOL). When I’m drawing or lost in the guitar or singing. That ‘refuge’ place. My own personal version of ‘Taking Refuge’ … but instead of Buddha, Dharma and Sangha, creativity is my refuge.


And to keep up the Buddhist theme, a thought provoking little story I like from “A Still Forest Pool. The Insight Meditation of Achaan Chah”…

To Grasp a Snake.


“Our practice here is not to grasp anything” Achaan Chah told a new monk.

 “But isn’t it necessary to hold onto things sometimes?” the monk protested.

“With the hands, yes, but not with the heart,” the teacher replied. “When the heart grasps what is painful, it is like being bitten by a snake. And when, through desire, it grasps what is pleasant, it is just grasping the tail of the snake. It only takes a little while longer for the head of the snake to come around and bite you.

“Make this nongrasping and mindfulness the guardian of your heart, like a parent. Then your likes and dislikes will come calling like children. ‘I don’t like that, Mummy. I want more of that, Daddy.’ Just smile and say ‘Sure, kid.’ ‘But Mummy, I really want an elephant.’ ‘Sure kid’. ‘I want candy. Can we go for an airplane ride?’ There is no problem if you can let them come and go without grasping.”

Something contacts the senses; like or dislike arises; and right there is delusion. Yet with mindfulness, wisdom can arise in this same experience.

Do not fear places where many things contact the senses, if you must be there. Enlightened does not mean being deaf and blind. Saying a mantra every second to block things out, you may get hit by a car. Just be mindful and do not be fooled. When others say something is pretty, say to yourself, “It’s not.” When others say something is delicious, say to yourself “NO, it’s not.” Do not get caught in the attachments of the world or in relative judgements. Just let it all go by.

Some people are afraid of generosity. They feel that they will be exploited or oppressed, that they will not be properly caring for themselves. In cultivating generosity, we are only oppressing our greed and attachment. This allows our true nature to express itself and become lighter and freer.

My guilty solo pleasure

Recently I’ve started a bit of a ritual.Whenever I’m feeling a bit uneasy, or need space to think, want to do any planning or goal setting, feeling restless, or just plain need space, I start feeling an urge to let the sea breeze and salt air blow blow the cobwebs in my brain away and replace the static with the calming, rhythmic sound of the surf. I like to have a good walk, then simply sit and write or just think.

When the urge takes me I simply get in the car and drive to the beach. I’m lucky enough to live in quite a beautiful valley with beaches, mountains and a major river all nearby (well – nearby by country standards )

Today I felt the urge so headed out. It was a beautiful mild and sunny afternoon – and I had the entire beach to myself!! Miles and miles of beach and I was the only person on it. And as luck would have it today I took my camera so after yesterdays very serious post, I want to share some calming photos of one of our beautiful local beaches.


Looking down the entrance ramp to the beach

Read More

On sensitivity

This evening someone mentioned Dabrowski to me (a psychologist often mentioned in relation to studies on gifted people, and the man who developed the theory of Positive Disintegration), which prompted me to remember something my friend Rena posted on her Livejournal a while back (along with my earlier talk of boundaries). What follows here is part of an article that was included in her original post.

From Environmental Sensitivity: (and I’m not talking about physical sensitivity)

What does it mean to be sensitive? (1) capable of perceiving with a sense or senses, (2) responsive to external conditions or stimulation, (3) susceptible to the attitudes, feelings, or circumstances of others, (4) registering very slight differences or changes of condition.

Read More

Dear Dr Drug, Ph.D

Dear Dr Drug, Ph.D

No fix today to allay the yearning
for one drop of word to feed the fervour one more day.
But not to be .. no thought of me
or how you leave me craving,
wasting for the want of one more word.

No seductive luring glance in my direction
no need to read affection left from yesterday
no sleep no food no thing will serve to ease my passion
oh cruel seducter, to leave me longing in this fashion.

(Note: “Seducter” is from an obscure international language called Interlingue. Translated it means “allure”.)

 

you put that … WHERE?

Someone  put me on to a nifty piece of exercise equipment.

It’s a simple little barbell. But wait!!! There’s more! Not just ANY barbell, but a barbell for doing keigel exercises with. Or for the Australians … a barbell for pelvic floor exercises. We all know resistance training is excellent for toning muscles, so I thought … I must get myself one of these. I don’t want a girl of just average, everyday fitness. I want a super-duper-mega-fit, super-strong one  So I went online and ordered it from a store in San Francisco that a friend recommended. The store is actually a shop that sells sex toys, a store run by women for women. A tasteful store, believe it or not.

As I eagerly awaited the arrival of my new piece of exercise equipment while it was winged over from the west coast of the USA to the east coast of Australia, I had an embarrassing realisation of what might presumably happen at customs, when the parcel was x-rayed Would they open it, seeing what shape it was, what it was made of, and being concerned? Have a good snicker when they saw the goods? Or is it just something that they’ve seen maaaannny times before, now a bit of a yawn? Never mind, I reminded myself, they don’t know who they hell I am anyway so it really doesn’t matter.

So one day I get two things in the letterbox … a card from the post office saying I had an international parcel to pick up. As I hadn’t ordered anything from Amazon for, oh 2 weeks (WHAAAAT??), I knew exactly what was waiting for me at the post office. The other was an envelope from San Francisco. It was thick. I guessed, correctly as it turned out, that maybe it was a catalogue from this place I bought my exercise equipment from. Turned the envelope over to find  the flap on the envelope hadn’t been stuck down. Or if it had originally, barely.

This envelope travelled all the way from San Francisco to east coast Australia … open. Imagine how many people looked at what was inside. It wouldn’t bother me terribly except for one thing. I live in a very small town. Population 4000. Everybody knows everybody else, and if they don’t, it’s like two degrees of separation. The people at the post office know me. Bet they got a good giggle out of the catalogue, and raised eyebrows when they saw who it was for. Shit.

So I had to go into the post office that day to pick my parcel up. I couldn’t look them in the eye. They couldn’t look me in the eye. And to heighten my embarrassment even further, was the box itself. I thought they would go to great lengths to make it discreet. But on the description of the contents, in big letters, was ‘massage equipment’.

Aiyyyyyyyyyeeeee … could you BE any more OBVIOUS? Every woman knows what ‘massage equipment’ means ROFLAMO!!!!! I couldn’t get out of their fast enough.

When I got home and opened it up it was my turn for a laugh. First let me say, the barbell is a thing of beauty. Stainless steel, sleek, 7 inches long with a big ball down one end and a small one on the other. Quite heavy. But that’s the point. Anyway – the little box it came in was a cack. Here’s what the label said:

“Betty Dodson’s Vaginal Barbell
Betty’s Vaginal Barbell is both a practical exerciser to strengthen the pelvic floor muscle and an excellent pleasure device. Made of stainless steel, it is sturdy enough to become a family heirloom.”

What the FUCK??   I doubt somehow I’ll be leaving my sleek, stainless steel friend in my will to anybody hahaha!

But wait … there’s even MORE!!

I love a place that chuck’s in freebies. Included in the parcel was the cutest little thing …. a travel-sized, compact, discreet sweetie. A ‘snap and go vibe’. One AA battery not included!!