i feel infinite

so, this is my life. and i want you to know that i am both happy and sad and i'm still trying to figure out how that could be.

as much as i feel sad, i think that not knowing is what really bothers me.
it might make me miss him more clearly. it might have made sad sense.

sometimes, my dad calls her beautiful, but she cannot hear him.

the kind of green that doesn't make a big deal about itself.

it's just that sometimes people use thought to not participate in life.

charlie, we accept the love we think we deserve.

i just never gave god a name, if you know what i mean. i hope i haven't let him down regardless.

not everyone has a sob story, charlie, and even if they do , it's no excuse.
i have to say that it was the best milkshake i ever had in my life it was so delicious, it almost scared me.

lights on buildings and everything that makes you wonder. . .and in that moment, i swear we were infinite.

i guess i could tell people about punk rocky and walking home from school and things like that. maybe these are my glory days, and i'm not even realizing it because they don't involve a ball.

i just hope i remember to tell my kids that they are as happy as i look in my old photographs. and i hope that they believe me.

first, i am interested and fascinated by how everyone loves each other, but no one really likes each other. second, the fights are always the same.
almost peaceful.

this one tape that had all of these memories and feelings and great joy and sadness. . .and how many people got through a lot of bad times because of thos songs. and how many people enjoyed good times with those songs. and how much those songs really mean. i think it would be great to have written one of those songs. i bet if i wrote one of them i would be very proud. i hope the people who wrote those songs are happy. i hope that they feel it's enough. i really do because they've made me happy. and i'm only one person.

i decided then that when i met someone i thought was as beautiful as the song, i should give it to that person. and i didn't mean beautiful on the outside. i meant beautiful in all ways. so, i was giving it to sam.

and it gets to a point where none of it seems real. . .it happens very fast, and things start to slip away. and i just open my eyes, and i see nothing. and then i start to breathe really hard trying to see something, but i can't. it doesn't happen all the time, but when it does, it scares me.

i just wanted to be in a quiet place.
as i was walking up the stairs to my dad's old room, and i was looking at the old photographs, i started thinking that there was a time when these weren't memories.

i don't know if you've ever felt like that. that you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. or just to exist. or just not be aware that you do exist. or something like that. i think wanting that is very morbid, but i want it when i get like this. that's why i'm trying not to think. i just want it all to stop spinning. if this gets any worse, i might just have to go back to the doctor. it's getting that bad again.

just like i think that a lot of other people have read those books before. and listened to those songs. i wonder how they feel tonight. . .and all the books you've read have been read by other people. and all the songs you've loved have been heard by other people. and that girl that's pretty to you is pretty to other people. and you know that if you looked at these facts when you are happy, you would feel great because you are describing 'unity'
i just kept quiet and looked around. and i noticed things. the dots on the ceiling. or how the blanket they gave me was rough. or how the doctor's face looked rubbery. or how everything was a deafening whisper, when he said that maybe i should start seeing a psychiatrist again. it was the first time the doctor ever told that to my parents with me in the room. and his coat was so white. and i was so tired.

craig said the problem with things is that everyone is always comparing everyone with everyone and because of that, it discredits people, like in his photography classes. . .nobody can be as big as the beatles because the beatles already gave it 'context'

she loves this record store. she said it was the one place where she felt like herself. she said that before coffee shops were popular, there was nowhere for kids like her to go, except the big boy, and that was old until this year.

she also said that people who control situations all the time are afraid that if they don't, nothing will work out the way they want.

i have made a terrible mess of things. i really have. i feel terrible about it. patrick said the best thing i could is just stay away for a while.
maybe i should have been honest then, but it didn't feel like the right time.

i just kind of put my feelings away somewhere after that.

when patrick left me outside, i started to cry. it was real and panicky, and i couldn't stop it.

i put the book down and went to the window. i stared at my reflection and the trees behind it for a long time. not thinking anything. not feeling anything. not hearing the record. for hours. something is wrong with me. and i don't know what it is.
i know that i brought this all on myself. i know that i deserve this. i 'd do anything not to be this way. i'd do anything to make it up to everyone. and to not have to see a psychiatrist, who explains to me about being 'passive aggressive.' and to not have to take the medicine he gies me, which is too expensive for my dad. and to not have to talk about bad memories with him. or be nostalgic about bad things.

and it can't be like it was. and i wasn't ready to say good-bye just yet.

and it felt very unsettling for me.

and life doesn't stop for anybody.
to tell you the truth, i was stoned in a bad way, and i couldn't get the question out of my mind.
i drove home listening to some of the songs we listened to those times we were infinite.

it's strange how things can change back as suddenly as they changed originally. when one thing happens and suddenly, things are back to normal.

it's just that some people walk with their heads to the ground for some reason. they don't like to look other people in the eye. brad was never like that. but now he is.

glazey and numb. he just turned up the volume. and drove faster. 'i'll tell you something, charlie. i feel good. you know what i mean? really good. like i'm free or something. like i don't have to pretend anymore. i'm going away to college, right? it'll be different there. you know what i mean?'. . .'things'll be different there. they have to be.'

there's nothing like the deep breaths after laughing that hard. nothing in the world like a sore stomach for the right reasons. it was that great.

after a while, his eyes lost the glazey numb look from the wine or the coffee or the fact that he had stayed up the night before.

so, i just follow him around whenever he wants to show me his world.

it's hard, too, because patrick began every night really excited. he always said he felt free. and tonight was his destiny. and things like that. but by the end of that night, he just looked sad. . .but after a while, the whole thing just wasn't interesting to him anymore, and he ran out of things to keep himself numb.

be skeptical about this one. it's a great book. but try to be a filter, not a sponge. . .i don't kow. the fountainhead is a very good book. i hope i am being a filter.

i wonder what it will be like when i leave this place. the fact that i will have to have a roommate and buy shampoo.

incidentally, i finished the fountainhead. it was a really great experience. it's strange to describe reading a book as a really great experience, but that's kind of how it felt. . .maybe that's what being a filter means.

and i saw them in silhouette. running after the sun.

so, i just sat there with a bottle of champagne near the cd player, and i changed the songs to fit the mood of what i saw. . .it was a great way to sit alone at a party and still feel a part of things.

i have to stop spinning out like this. okay.

that was probably the worst part. not that he should have tried to get back together with her, but i think he should have run after her anyway.

he just let me hear what he had to say in my own way and let things be. that was probably the best part.

i was very grateful to have heard it again. because i guess we all forget sometimes. and i think everyone is special in their own way. i really do.
the one thing i noticed was how different everyone looked. when we were all little, we used to sing songs on the bus ride home from the last day of school.

she was crying real soft and messy.

there's something about the tunnel that leads to downtown. it's glorious at night. just glorious. you start on one side of the mountain, and it's dark, and the radio is loud. as you enter the tunnel, the wind gets sucked away, and you squint from the lights overhead.

you can see the other side in the distance just as the sound of the radio fades to nothing because the waves just can't reach. then you're n the middle of the tunnel, and everything becomes a calm dream.

it's strange the times people choose to be generous.

so, i just watched her pack, and i tried to notice as many details as i possiblu could. her long hair and her thin wrists and her green eyes. i wanted to remember everything. especially the sound of her voice.

but you weren't, charlie. at those times, you weren't being his friend at all. because you weren't honest with him.

and a great song was playing. and everyone smiled. including me. but i wasn't there anymore.
everything was in slow motion. the sound was thick.

i do know that, but it's crashing in anyway, and i just can't stop thinking. . .i'd do anything not to think that. i know i'm thinking too fast again, and it's all in my head like the trance, but it's there, and it won't go away.

it's nice to have things to look forward to.

so, i guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons.
maybe it's good to put things in perspective, but sometimes, i think that the only perspective is to really be there.

but mostly, i was crying because i was suddenly very aware of the fact that it was me standing up in that tunnel with the wind over my face. not caring if i saw downtown. not even thinking about it. because i was standing in the tunnel. and i was really there. and that was enough to make me feel infinite.

what in me was reacting to those words?

omnipotence
seamiest
emphatic
equanimity
impermanence
paradisiacal
aversion
dull hum
codependence
forged
interconnectedness
harsh
resonate
awareness
mindfulness
sensations
destructive
desperate
bliss
being engaged
anxious and neurotic
nightmares
haunting

the air drowsy

i got this great, old book of irish folk tales for christmas. here are some fun parts i truly enjoyed.

for some it lies no farther than the bend of the road; and there are others who much retrace their steps to glimpse it with longing through a weariness of years.

the closed flowers nod on slender stems, dew-wet and languid in the green gloom. . .deep and harmonious

. . .there was a magic in his music. lilting over the hills would sound the silver clamour of his reeds, and all the birds of the air would know to answer him.

he had walked sightless all his days, so music was his life and all of beauty in the sounds that came to him.

but sure there is always the music and a power to be dreaming!

where the long sun rays felling slanting

held fast in a spell of wonder

the morrow's still another day - and maybe the slower the you travel the more you'll be seeing.

shining through the darkness like a tethered star.

the chasm that yawned before him

knocked out his clay pipe on the door-post, finding the comfort gone from it.

the deep pools hold the shadow of flying cloud

their length of days; knowing a lost loveliness
when stars are strung and moonbeam drench the hill.

the old happiness and tranquility seemed as a dream in the ever-present reality of their distress

it chanced on a day when her trouble seemed sorest

thinking to busy her hands and ease the sad burden of her thoughts

but better than the fairy dowry she brought to him was the golden worth and treasure of her own true heart.

but for all her dejection there lingered a trace of gallantry

and may you hear my music in your heart when your strength gives out on you

and there was no laughter in him now, nor joy in simple things.

and only the magic of love, dear, can ever turn the key.

we are opening ourselves to what is

may their joy touch all beings

i've told myself that as my spiritual life deepened, drinking and drugs wouldn't be a problem anymore.

i kept telling myself i was going to get it together in my own way, that some magical event like rock stardom or enlightenment would save me. of course, it didn't.

until we explore the difficult side of our nature, our spiritual work will always lack depth and integrity.

over my life, there have been far too many mornings filled with remorse and no memory.

my spiritual life never became fully integrated; it remained only a sort of pleasant compartment in my life.

transcending - that's what i wanted to do with life; get over, get out, avoid. . .in other words, i wanted magic.

the buddha was emphatic on the point that we are responsible moment to moment for our words and actions, not just victims of destiny or hidden forces; we have an element of free will.

he realized clear understanding and acceptance was the key to letting go of that suffering.

if the external world wasn't going to be perfect, maybe he could find perfection in the inner world. . .perhaps then you can begin to forgive yourself and your failures.

but the buddha saw that even in our moments of triumph and joy there remains a grasping toward more. my favorite example of this is the traditional commercial at the end of the super bowl, where the newly chosedn mvp is asked, " what are you going to do now?" and this man, who has just reached the pinnacle of his profession, turns to the camera and says, "i'm going to disneyland." for me, this sums up dukkha: you've got it all but you want more, and since you've got everything possible in the real world, the only place left to go is to a fantasty world, a place where dreams are made.

if you stop chasing after the things you want, you will find the thing you want. . .what causes our suffering isn't a lack of material things or emotional experiences, but rather the craving, the desire itself, the energy that keeps driving us to engage in the chase.

each moment is completely unique, completely unpredictable. who knows what the next breath, the next sound, the next thought will bring?

instead of being present for life's challenges, i had done a shadow dance with reality, never really moving forward. when i went on the road, i had an alternative escape - a geographic escape

it was clear that i could try to get into college, but i couldn't control the results of that, and seeing that did bring serenity.

dukkha is the aspect of life that keeps us restlessly searching for comfort.

i am just made up of thse ever-changing processes.

a critical point, since we are often drawn to ideas that fit with our own preferences, whether accurate or not.

i felt oddly disconnected, as though i were watching a movie with a blaring soundtrack

intention acts as the driving force behind our spiritual growth, a constant reminder of what to let go of and where to point our minds.

it means striving for perfection of heart and mind while bowing to the truth of who we are, with all our imperfections and failings.

i was 'turning my will and my lfie over' in a new way

with too much wisdom, the hindrance of doubt comes to dominate the mind

to pretend that our existence doesn't affect others is to deny karma, to deny that every action has a reaction, to pretend that cause and effect aren't constantly in play. this careful parsing of our past forces us to become more cognizant of karma. . .when we see our destructive patterns of thought, speech, and behavior, we begin to change, to unravel thse habits, to act in ways that won't require more inventory writing.

during those years it seemd that he'd largely given up on lie, withdrawing into depression and isolation.

form is emptiness, emptiness is form. you could also say, ' form is form, and emptiness ie emptiness,' meaning tha teverything has its reality, however transitory. form must be respected.

with meditation we seek a balance of energy

when we repress disturbing thoughts, sometimes the mind becomes sluggish, trying to drain us of the ability to look clearly at what's happening because it's painful. keeping the attention on the sluggishness may allow the difficult thought to come through and be processed.

whether a monk or a layperson, we all live in bodies, we all have minds and hearts that hunger for contact, for purpose, for meaning. if we take away one thing, another craving arises in its place. our practice is to keep seeking after balance.

it's helpful to notice when you are using something to numb yourself from life. this, in fact, takes us back to the first precept, of not killing. when we numb ourselves we are cutting ourselves off from life itself, a not-so-subtle form of killing ourselves.

it's amazing how a small moment of kindness can reverberate.

if you don't notice moods, they can lurk in the back of the mind and control the tone of thoughts.

your failings are common. your hame, unnecessary.

i felt like i was pushing against something heavy, barely movable.

with nothing to hide, i could share without trepidation. . .and this acceptance from others grew into self-acceptance.

and with this easing of attachent, new possibilities began to arise.

quick wit, penetrating intelligence.

the layers of self-deception are manifold.

central difference in orientation

no one's that nice, and if they try to be they are paving over their emotional truth, creating a false veneer that will eventually cause them and others suffering. . .if we are'nt willing to speak honestly, to speak our joy and our sorrow, we stunt our emotional and spiritual lives and leave ourselves isolated in a cocoon of false niceness.

why do i get so lost, and how can i find my way back?

however, if there isn't sufficient strength of mind - of mindfulness and concentration - this pradtice can backfie in the way brad was describing: every time you try to bring in an element of metta, the fierce, destructive aspects of mind throw back more venom, and instead of reducing the strength of negative thoughts, you actually increase them as they feed of the weak efforts at positivity

kornfield suggests making a top ten list of such thoughts a a way of beginning to come to grips with these demons.

whatever is happening in our lives will reverberae when we sit down to practice.

this judging is not only painful and unproductive, but is, in fact, another trick of the mind to keep us from being present with what is.

'no one among us has been able to maintain anything like perfect adherence to these principles. we are not saints. the point is that we are willing to grow along spiritual lines.'

i can begin to deconstruct the elements of this solid identity, at the same time, breaking apart the solid opinions i have about myself.

this was a particularly powerful strain of denial.

for months i swung on this pendulum from drunken dleusion to dperessive self-hatred, never reaching a middle ground from which i might address the truth of what was happening.

if i can stop at the visceral level, without labeling or analyzing, the feeling can just be there. there's no need to do anything about it, to solve it or cure it.

setting off an addictive pattern of craving, bingeing ,and eventual revulsion

we don't move toward or away from them [our emotions]; we just let them be.

there is a continuous process of letting go.

the stress and anxiety of the musician's life had been miserable, and only now, working this generic, uncool office job, did i see how painful it had been. i felt a great sense of freedom and comfort in being an office worker.

any time we try to nail down who we are, we miss something. we are a process; we are possibilities; and we constantly change

we don't let go because there is some rule or commandment that says we must; we let go because we see how our clinging is causing us pain.

it's a completely new life, one that can't be imagined until you are there. and it is both appealing and frightening.

we see that we don't have to suffer through eternal emptiness. . .we learn to stop looking outside ourselves for happiness, for affirmation, for comfort. as we reach out for thse supports less, we begin to let go more.

i saw how difficult it is to be spiritually honest, to really shed my conditioned thoughts and actions and make decisions from a place of true freedom.
because of your perfectionism, you keep putting off doing anything, which leads to procrastination; after a while, you can't function: paralysis. the three p's. . .my ego didn't like it. i didn't want ot be humble. i wanted to be perfect. or at least close to perfect.

letting go of perfection may be one of the most difficult forms of surrender. my tendency was always to quit if i couldn't do something just the way i wanted.

i can start again, a fresh b reath, a fresh kindness, in this moment . . .when we come out of the dream, that's when we have the opportunity to begin again fresh.

the deepest veins of emotion start to reveal themselves in our heart.

when we spend years drinking and using, holding in our feelings, covering over our feelings, wreaking havoc in the lives of everyone we know, running, always running, never coming home to our true self, we bury some essential part of ourselves; we bury it alive.

this fundamenal insight is the basis for forgiveness: i am the one who suffers for my lack of forgiveness, and i am the one who benefits from my forgiveness. the buddhist teaching on equanimity says, ' all beings are the owners of their karma. their happiness and unhappiness depend on their actions, not on my wishes for them.'

the buddha said we could search the whole world and not find a person more deserving of love than ourselves. is it possible to see yourself in this way? as equally precious as anyone else on earth? seeing ourselves as worth of love can take some work.

what we really have is a daily reprieve contingent on the maintenance of our spiritual condition.

i wasn't to blame; it was the natural order of things. they would come back again when the conditions were right.

to me, my spiritual life is meant to be a support, not an intellectual exercise, so, ' god as i understand him; can, and should, be whatever i need it to be at any given time. i don't have to answer to some logic or some rule-making body, just respond to what my heart is calling for in this moment.

this, to me, is magical thinking - the idea that some special power is singling you out for special treatment.

beings are numberless, i vow to save them.

the mind state of clarity and alertness. there's a dynamic quality to this awakeness, being on the edge of what is happening right now, not lodged in a role or posture but paying sharp attention to everything as it unfolds, responding in the moment.

in a sense, we have abused ourselves, and in order to recover our hearts - our compassion, our conscience - we must continually show up for ourselves until we begin to heal.

i dedicate the merit of my work on this book to the awakening of all beings; may all beings be free from alcoholism and drug addiction and from the harm that addition causes; may all beings be happy joyous, and free from suffering.

tuesday december fifteenth

monday december fifteenth

sunday december fourteenth

saturday december thirteenth

parthenon, midday

parthenon, midday , originally uploaded by some idealistic future.

nafplio bay

nafplion bay, originally uploaded by some idealistic future.

900 stairs later, this is what we found.

monastery

monastery, originally uploaded by some idealistic future.

placid

placid, originally uploaded by some idealistic future.

port, nafplio bay, may 2008

you, you, you

friday december twelfth.

i had a really hard time getting out of bed this morning. it is hard to motivate myself to get up early, especially when i don't have anyone to hold me accountable.

thursday december eleventh

it is supposed to be a pretty mild day, so i decide to head to the zoo, as per jeff's suggestion. it turned out to be the perfect day to go. no one was there, it was just cold enough to still be tolerable to a wimpy texan like myself, and just warm enough for a good number of animals to be out. i about had a heart attack driving there though, which was no good. besides all of the crazy drivers and my rental car manuevering like a tank, i had put some diet dr peppers in the fridge for the week, and apparently the person who had last occupied my room had set the fridge to maximum cold....so the sodas froze. i opened it in the car, and it continued to fizz and bubble and ultimately explode. awesome. for some reason, my mind was truly hazy as i was driving around and everything felt kind of distant.

i got some good shots, which is what i was hoping for...i also saw a lion in a tree, which kind of made it worth it. again with the surreal thing. i parked a bit away from the zoo, so i got a nice walk in while i was there. it was really beautiful, and nice to just walk around with the cold air filling my lungs. the landscape was pretty as well, which helped.





i left the zoo around 2:30 or 3 and went in search of lunch. i ended up downtown near a hospital with a lot of one way streets and impatient drivers. i gave up on stopping for food when i saw this beautiful church over the tops of some houses i was passing by as i circled around the block. i decided, fuck it, i'm going to go check out this cool church. it turned out to be the cathedral basicilia of st. louis, which was on my list of things to see. it was really beautiful, and there was a neat statue, the angel of harmony, in a small garden right next to it. the sun made for some hindering shadows and then overpowering glares as i walked around the building, but it was still beautiful. it is really simplistic considering it is catholic and fairly modern, but still interesting architecturally. i was really hoping for more stained glass and sculptural/relief depiction, but alas, i was greeted with the more surprising, and dominant, islamic overtones with primarily domed roofs, reiterated by the almost complete lack of iconography.


i decided to pass on lunch, and headed over to the st. louis university museum of art before it closed at 4.


i missed art museums. i am very glad that i got to ease myself back into galleries with these smaller collections as opposed to jumping straight into the st louis art museum (slam). not as many big names, but the galleries were really well-thought out and many of the pieces were very interesting. my time there was somewhat rushed, but i was eager to get back to the hotel and out for dinner. a beautiful sunset kept me company on the drive back.


jeff and i went to blueberry hill for dinner, which was cute and quirky - i liked it. then jeff went back and i walked up and down the loop people-watching and taking photos. i had an hour and a half to kill until my movie, so i sat and starbucks and wrote for a bit, kind of observing those around me, then walked around for a bit more. the two tall statues near the city hall always remind me of the neverending story for some reason that i can't shake. i'll try to find pictures later.

i love holiday times when everything is so cheery and bright. no, not bright...but cheery, in a dull inviting way. just enough to be encouraging. muted reds, yellows and blues litter every block and somehow they bring an easy comfort.


i went to the tivoli to see milk, which i was very excited about. blue moon in hand, a half-empty theater from days long gone and a great movie. i am not one to cry at movies, but this movie brought me to tears again and again. i left heartbroken but so happy at the same time. as if this transient life was to be embraced as fleeting, but we all still stood a chance despite this hindrance. it was a great feeling - not a top of the mountain moment, but climbing a summount with an indeterminent incline and reaching that moment when the peak is just beyond the horizon. my first full day in st. louis, and i felt fantastic.

symphony of sound

symphony of sound, originally uploaded by some idealistic future.

the sun breaks

the sun breaks, originally uploaded by some idealistic future.