Cogito Ergo Sum And Know Thyself!

I often hear people talk about how uplifting writing or reading or music or dance are… well, not dance so much, but I would hear about it more if I knew more dancers.  At varying times, all of the first three work for me.  Really, though, it's just variations on a theme.  They all find their root in letting the mind wander and picking up inspiration from the universe.

They are a sort of active meditation, and I consider meditation to be of vast significance for anyone who chooses to engage in it.

A Life Less Dynamic’s 3 Q&A’s To A Better You.

1.   “I think, therefore I am.”  Gee, thanks Descartes, but what am I?

As an intrepid reader of A Life Less Dynamic, I know that the essence of knowledge is what one knows about one’s self.  (Previous Post)  If you are right that I exist, surely I should endeavor to know who or what I am.

First, though, let’s inadequately address a two points on Descartes.  One, I won’t even touch the propriety of Descartes’ equating thought to existence, because I think it inherently confuses the meaning of existence.  Two, I do not believe thoughts exist in the absence of having been begotten.  Thus, Jamal Earl Black believes that the existence of his thoughts assumes the existence of a person or agent thinking them, namely – Jamal Earl Black.

If you can follow the preceding bundle of sentences… you exist as well.  If, on the other hand, that paragraph makes no sense to you – your lack of understanding calls your entire existence into question.  Stop reading this blog immediately on pain of complete, utter, and spontaneous self-annihilation!

2.   Ok, returning to the first train of thought:  I exist, so what am I?

In short, I don’t know for sure… but that doesn’t matter, so long as I recognize that I am not my body or my thoughts.

It is easy to cognitively acknowledge the fact that you are not your body.  After all, your thoughts prove existence… but not human and bodily existence.  In practice, however, stubbing your toe hurts.  Try telling your toe it doesn’t exist and see what happens.

Understanding that you are not your thoughts is a bit harder, because those really are all that you have.  The important thing to consider here is that your thoughts emanate from, and are relevant to, a thing which begets them.

So what is this separate thing which begets thoughts?  Science teaches that the brain thinks, but that is mere physical representation (which has not been proven to exist).  Jamal teaches that it doesn’t matter.  Acknowledgement of this thing is sufficient.

You are it.

3.   Ok, I’m a thought begetter, and…?

Much of life consists of the analysis of external stimuli, which is useful because it gives us knowledge and ability to function in the physical world.  Meditation is different.  It is the active stimulation and consideration of one’s inner self through the letting go of attention to one’s physical self.

It allows for the application of the command: “Know Thyself!”

Your thoughts do not define you – your ‘self’ defines your thoughts.  Know yourself and think with purpose and intent.  Choose your thoughts wisely.

Longing To Be A Leaf And Playing Clue With Life

Who killed Mr. Time?  Life, in the study, with distraction.

I haven't posted for awhile now, and I blame life.  Everytime I feel the desire to sit, think, and jot down words... something comes up.  I've also been spending more time writing Mr. Sir Awesome Masterpiece, Himself.

Now that I have more of an outline, my co-conspirator (we'll call him Alex Zander) has finally jumped on board and we've been taking turns writing, imagining, and sending the Word doc back and forth via email.  It's fun and more is getting done than when I work alone, though there is a lot more time spent having to take things from my brain and inject them into his... somehow... and small diferences in vision are less than exciting to resolve in 10 word snippets over email.  I'm also finding that my excessive use of "..." does not work as well in a novel as it does in a blog.

-~<>~-

My father posted a haiku on Facebook recently, as a tribute to his sunny fall day in South Carolina.  It inspired me to write my own haiku, as a tribute to the blustery fall day we had in Wisconsin.

Sunny Day

sunlit blooms cry out

take my beauty home with you

i seek love not frost

- AB 10/18/11

Blustery Day

wind blows leaf from tree

which falling down says goodbye

fitting end, old age

- JB 10/18/11

I someday hope to be as a leaf - to fall back to the earth and return to dust, having lived life whole and healthy, showing my true colors.

Mr. Sir Awesome Masterpiece, Himself

I'm at a coffee shop thinking and writing today, while my side-kick wife is off on an adventure of her own.  It's her side band, of sorts, to hang out with her friends... and I'm not the jealous type.  I hope she enjoys herself as much as I plan to.

One thing I'm doing right now is to try and consolidate a few of the sporadically written/typed thoughts for my sci-fi book, which at one time or another have flowed copiously from my brain.  Mind-wrapping them together is going to be a task without trying to organize them first.  Much of what I find is interesting, but more in the vein of a passing thought than a building block for a novel.  Some of the better stuff is fun to read again.  Because I haven't revisited much of it for over a year now, it's almost like I'm reading someone else's work.

Here is a passage that I found today, originally written on August 21st, 2010.  It is (in theory) coming from the Mr. Miyagi/Yoda-type character, as he tries to open the eyes of his protege.  What I like about it is that I feel it hits on a fundamental truth, yet I could never have come up with this myself without trying to dream up something which sounds mystical and profound - two words which I would never use to describe myself.  In a way, even though I wrote it, I didn't think of it... an imagined character did, and then shared it with me.

Some will tell you that man exists to bring order to the world.  We build things, we create, and our society provides structure for a life which, through sciences and intellectual discourse, is ever-advancing.

I believe that the world exists to help man bring himself into order, that the essence of knowledge is not what one knows about the world but what one knows about himself, and that all existence speaks to the reality of man. All we have to do is to learn to listen.

Other times I find little journal entries that I wrote from some character's perspective to try and get inside their mind.  Reading them again, I see myself in the character I'm trying to create.  Am I becoming more like them, as I dream them up... or are they just a reflection of a formerly hidden self that I am uncovering slowly?

I watch the leaves falling from the trees and wonder what it would be like to do the same - to watch as unwanted bits of myself fall slowly to the ground while the rest of me remains standing, solid, and resolute; growing through it all.

Is man capable of such a revolution as the changing of the seasons?

The last type of thing that I am finding are little blurbs written here and there as cultural proverbs, as a means of trying to delve into what makes a society tick.

If ever you arrive again at the same fork in the road, you must have chosen wrong the first time.

This is fun stuff for me, and should be exciting for you.  This post amounts to a free sneak-peak at my awesome masterpiece in-progress.

That noise you hear is joy within your heart - softly booming.

This Post Has Ironic Qualities

I promised myself that I would post tonight, but wasted the night on Facebook whilst avoiding the dishes.  Now that I am completing them (the dishes), I am too tired to do more than post this measly half-joke.

(in case you are wondering, this is a post about the absence of a post... thus ironic.... kinda)

Book Writing And Devotionals

I've been writing again.

There exist two books which have been merrily swimming about in my brain juices for more than a few years.  One is a children's book, the other a science-fiction fantasy book.

The first book never goes the direction I feel it should, though I still think it works as a concept and have pieced together a story of sorts.  I downloaded a 'Publishing Children's Books: For Dummies' book on my iPhone, but got distracted by writing the sci-fi fantasy book before I could get too far into learning the next steps.  The sci-fi fantasy book, I think, is finally mapped out in enough detail and realism that it will work if I can just bring myself to put the detail to the pages.  My plan is to just publish it in electronic form, maybe as a free kindle book.  Hopefully the catharsis merits the effort.

**If I die before accomplishing anything of note, search my computer and journals.  There's enough material there for someone to be a starving artist.

As someone who plays too much Fantasy Football and mindlessly watches/consumes the NFL in copious portions, I have decided to try and make this time less of a complete waste.  I've contacted at least one person about starting a Sunday Football devotional.  Since I'm a misplaced Titan's fan living in the frozen tundra, I've succumbed to peer pressure and will name it "Prayers then Packers."

The concept is easy - praise God, then waste a few hours of the life He gave you.

Anyone interested, shoot me an email.  I don't know how large we'll grow this, as it isn't likely to be hosted at my (cable tv free) house, but we'll see what happens - and inter-faith devotionals are always the best.  I figure, that way we increase the odds that one of us is praying in the right direction.

Hippie, Once Removed

"I take photographs, often while in my favorite places.  I don't know why I take these photographs, as if to chart the passage of time like a flip book, filling yet another volume with near identical snapshots.

I lean out onto the rocky outcroppings to capture the familiar, not-quite-right framing of building, lake, and trees.  My skin is cold in the early September air, but within me I have a heart which is warm, alive, and beating.

And hiking around, the soles of my shoes are worn.

And hiking around, my own soul is revived.

Around me the air is full, brimming with the scent of things nearly done living.  Inward I draw their spirit as it passes from the world, and exhaling I share the joys of summer given.  The leaves that remain lend a voice to the wind and it cries of change, sighs renewal, and proclaims the moving on of another year well-lived.  I hear it now, in a one-time performance, and will not forget it.

Why do I take pictures of the same things when they already fill album after album?  Maybe it is to fulfill the superstition.  Maybe capturing the spirit of life and holding it still in time will remind me that I was once young and there was a day when my wife and I held a devotional in the forest, and took communion with the wind in the trees.

I am here now, in this moment, breathing in the spirit of things which have existed only to pass on - to me, at this exact time.

*click*" -JB 09/05/11

I love trees, and I would consider naming a child River, Lotus, Sage, or Autumn - but I am not truly a hippie.  I am the son of a true hippie - a man who sought truth passionately and, I like to think, found it.  There is a freedom in searching, as you give yourself away completely to the process.  There is a freedom in finding yourself again, transformed.

Sometimes I feel that I have never had to search, but then I remove myself from the trappings of society and, feeling that I have found something of substance, realize that my search was merely quieter than some who have come before.

My father was a hippie.  I guess that makes me a hippie, once removed.

Kodachrome Once Captured

We listened to Tracy chase a Cat, and our chaperone laughed as she drove us to the Devil in your red Pontiac Bonneville.  You a tan peacoat and me my expectation, we saw a sunset burning in the trees and everywhere the sumac was bleeding.  I breathed in life with every breath and the crying down of leaves at the end of the season felt more like a new beginning.

Those are my favorite shoes I've ever owned

We climbed Boulder Mountain with the sweet taste of apple still lingering in our mouths. Driving home in slow motion, your smile lingered long after we'd forgotten about the apples.

 

For so long, I labored under the impression that I look much the same as I did before... and for so long I was right.  It startles me to look at photos from a decade ago and realize that this is no longer true.  Some dour, heavier Jamal has taken the place of the smiling, near-cute one that Kodachrome once captured.

Damn it all.

Everything (Always) Is Full Of Life

Look At That, He Said Pointing

i passed an epiphany on the floor one day

missed the point and left it lay

growing none the wiser

JB - 09/01/11

We’re all still trying to get to that concert; the one where our favorite band sings a song of freedom to the heart; when our friends gather together, growing bold and new from the experience; when everything is different after, seen from the perspective of one who stood on the threshold of ecstasy and looked down over the sea of life, understanding it all.

Always it rides on the edge of our vision.  Every moment and none are that concert.  We live unaware of the splendor that surrounds, never having consciously acknowledged the import of it all. 

In the end, only the end matters.  If we could lift our heads to gaze out on the horizon, all would come into focus.  Yet, even knowing this, we are distracted by that which blazes past as the world spins madly on.

Life, as always, couches its answers in a new mystery to solve.  It is not the passing epiphany which carries import, but the implementation of that which one knows they must change.

Decades? We Ain't Got No Decades. We Don't Need No Decades. I Don't Have To Show You Any Stinking Decades!

In the Baha’i Faith, the number nine carries symbolic significance.  The unity and oneness of mankind is seen as one of the fundamental truths which humanity is newly mature enough to accept and cultivate in this era.  As the largest one digit number, nine is, therefore, seen as the symbol of this truth.

In roughly two weeks, my wife and I will privately mark the anniversary of nine full years having passed since that night (and subsequent morning) that we spent chatting on AIM and decided to go down this road... and in another eight months or so we will mark our ninth wedding anniversary.

Nine years ago, my roommate (Asher) had to stop into work and I decided to go with him.  What ensued was one of the few nights in my life when I literally did not sleep at all.  Instead, I chatted with this girl I knew – first in a public radio computer bank on Purdue University campus and second in Asher’s room (the only computer we had) while he slept.

What better way to celebrate an unconventional beginning to a relationship than an unconventional, yet spiritually significant, anniversary party?  We haven’t decided what we will do, precisely, but we will be treating this anniversary as one of the big ones.

THE big one, actually, so please save the date.

One can keep its paper, five its wood, and ten its tin.  Gold?  Diamonds?  Who needs ‘em?  We’ve got better.

After nine delightful years… we got soul.

A Revolution: Not To Change, But To Return

I attended the Green Lake Baha’i Conference this weekend.  I enjoyed myself thoroughly, and was even introduced to the work of Anis Mojgani – a slam poet who produces amazing, expressive, thought-provoking work.  Potential poetry, his is not.  More to the point of the story, however, one of the breakout groups they had was about telling your story.  The description mentioned blogs, so I wandered in.  Wandering out, I took away the view that expressing ourselves is one way of encouraging understanding.  There was more to it, but those are the words I have settled on for the moment.

We spent maybe 3 minutes writing about our spiritual journey, starting sentences with “I remember.”  From there, we then just started writing what came to mind for another 10 minutes.  Afterwards, I spent some time putting the resulting words into a semblance of order and this is what resulted.

As I post this, I am no longer in the same place emotionally.

~~~

I find myself thoughtful without direction.  My over-active nerd-brain runs wild, stampeding violently past as I try to lasso a stray thought.  The ones I capture are but mere shadows of the stallions I see blazing past.  I circle back.  I circle back.  I circle back, but I never see them again.

Recalling the Genesis of Ourself

i remember a little girl

i remember a hill

i remember a drink dispenser

a conference at camp tecumseh

i remember mysterious paths

cars in the woods

hidden schools just over the hill

rocky inclines where water used to be

i remember friends and community

gathered at happy hollow park

i remember the speech they had us practice

and the games based on virtues

i remember memorizing a prayer

on the way to somewhere i’ve forgotten

and the feeling of pride in the accomplishment

i remember our father snapping his fingers

when we talked during prayers

and the sternness of disappointed stares

i remember wrestling and jumping on the bed

sent to play after devotionals

i remember a number of things

enough to reflect

too little to recreate

-JB 08/27/11

I know that I come back to the same thoughts, the same emotions.  I’m a record skipping willfully - an out-dated version of myself trying to hold onto cherished relics from a past era.  One such is recycled regret over, more than the loss of innocence, the forfeiture of myself (even if just a little) to a world that continually moves on, allowing no return to pick up the pieces of poor choices.

If I could find that truer self who I took out in the woods and told to stay, I’d let him know that I don’t think remembering him is a waste of time, and I try to remember as often as possible.

In the absence of Marty McFly… remembering will have to do.