“Everybody, by virtue of being a human being, is willy-nilly a metaphysician.”
Speaker: Alan Watts
Music: Svefn-G-Englar by Sigur Ros from Soundtrack to Vanilla Sky
Posted on YouTube by redliterocket4 (Matthew Segall)
Special thanks to Twitteur extraordinaire @gregorylent for tweeting the link to this video.
According to one friend, my October Balance post was a clear expression of my astrological sign: Libra. Well – perhaps. Personally, I file astrology under occasional
fun, entertainment – and maybe an attractive piece of jewelry. I’ve never had my chart done, I rarely invest more than a passing thought or occasional glance at my horoscope; but today, for some reason, I decided to do a little follow-up research on a comment from my youth (by a hopeful suitor). After all, the vast annals of Astrology.com are just a few clicks away now.
My birthday means my sun sign is not simply Libra. Having been born near the change date from one sun sign to the next, I’m actually a Libra-Scorpio Cusp. According to my suitor (way back then): “Libra-Scorpio Cusps are well-balanced sex maniacs.”
My reply: “If one is going to be a sex maniac, it’s probably best to be well-balanced about it.” Whether this fellow and I further explored this interesting label is none of your business, and whatever happened was billions of years ago anyway.
My online research today was a quick check to see if there is any astrological basis at all for the sex-maniac comment. (I’ve long been aware of the Libran balance part of the equation.) Here’s Astrology.com’s initial paragraph about Libra-Scorpio Cusps:
Libra is the seventh sign of the zodiac; Scorpio is the eighth. After Libra’s intellectual exploration of other people, Scorpio’s interest is in discovering other people’s emotions and how they respond to the world around them. Scorpio is the sign of sex and death, the beginning and ending, and they explore these ideas from an emotional standpoint. Libra/Scorpios strive to create balance and harmony between self and other through investigation and probing. They are often strongly intuitive and penetrating. They have a need to be liked.
So since Scorpio is the sign of sex and death, and Libra goes for balance and harmony, there is some astrological legitimacy to my date’s synopsis. Of course, I might be a well-balanced death maniac – but that was less relevant to my date’s objective. No, I do not remember what his astrological sign was, so who knows if we were astrologically compatible – which probably didn’t really matter to either of us. I also don’t remember his name – take that little nugget of information off to wherever you wish.
Like most healthy human beings, there was a phase of my youth in which hormones and curiosity combined to rank sex quite high on the motivational priority scale of my life. I don’t think I was ever particularly maniacal in its pursuit, though. I think my sexual philosophy was then and is still quite well-balanced:
I don’t think I’ve ever been particularly maniacal about anything really: not sex, death, money, love, politics. I lean toward the well-balanced side of the cusp – which is undoubtedly astrologically verified by the fact that my birthday’s on the Libra side of the cusp not the Scorpio.
Astrology.com”s “need to be liked” sentence seems a little off. Sure, I like to be liked, but I think my love of solitude takes me at least one rung down from NEED.
Ah-hah! Maybe I’m maniacal about solitude?
Nah – I’m even a balanced hybrid in the hermit arena.
My wanderings into astrology today confirmed that the descriptions are general enough to apply to (and flatter) almost anyone who’s curious enough to follow the path – a worthy choice for an hour’s entertainment. I am not passing judgment on those who are serious astrology buffs. I realize there is much more to the whole deal than simple sun signs and birthdays. If that’s where your interest takes you – go for it.
An interesting curiosity surfaced though: one of the most astrologically compatible mates for a Libra-Scorpio cusp is a Sagittarius-Capricorn cusp.
Coincidentally, my true-love, Griz, is a Sagittarius-Capricorn cusp. How about that? Worth a ponder…
“In the magical universe, there are no coincidences and there are no accidents. Nothing happens unless someone wills it to happen.” – William S. Burroughs
Stevens Pass, October 2008
October is my favorite month. I like autumn generally and (here) October is the month that finds the perfect balance between summer and winter. Nature is quieting down, weather is revving up. Humans are settling some, too (at least temporarily) – school routines are set and efficient, holiday frenzies have not quite begun.
I always prefer quiet to frenzy. It’s part of my attraction to solitude.
October is also my birth month. Birthdays provide a day of license to celebrate ourselves – incorporate some self-indulgence into the schedule without apology. More importantly for me they are the annual opportunity to reflect on another trip around the sun – that pivotal personal reminder of the grand balance between the clearly temporary and seemingly eternal.
There is, apart from mere intellect, in the makeup of every superior human identity, (in its moral completeness, considered as ensemble, not for that moral alone, but for the whole being, including physique,) a wondrous something that realizes without argument, frequently without what is called education, (though I think it the goal and apex of all education deserving the name) – an intuition of the absolute balance, in time and space, of the whole of this multifarious, mad chaos of fraud, frivolity, hoggishness – this revel of fools, and incredible make-believe and general unsettledness, we call the world; a soul-sight of that divine clue and unseen thread which holds the whole congeries of things, all history and time, and all events, however trivial, however momentous, like a leashed dog in the hand of the hunter. – Walt Whitman
All evergreen trees drop some of their older needles in the fall. But on the western red cedar (thuja plicata), the leafy needle structure makes this autumn shed more visually obvious.
In a drought year, like this one, the cedar’s red shed is particularly dramatic, especially on the cedars growing higher on our sloped property, and those with a clear southern exposure (less water).
This routine thinning partially accounts for the western red’s success at growing big – less wind resistance over the winter. It may also be a factor in the cedar’s slower growth rate (compared to our region’s commercially-favored timber crops – western hemlock and Douglas fir). My experience suggests that when high winds do overpower the cedars, they are more likely than the others to relinquish only their tops (15 to 25 percent of the tree) rather than fall down. (Although even one-quarter of a large tree can wreak a bit of havoc in its flight path.)
Western red cedars, though not as large as California’s redwoods, were the giants of the old-growth forests in our region. They are called “the tree of life” by Northwest coast indigenous tribes who traditionally used them for lodges, canoes, totem poles and many other utilitarian, artistic and spiritual purposes.
Perhaps it’s my anthropological knowledge of their spiritual tradition, perhaps it’s just their quiet majesty, but I have something of a love affair with our big cedars, many of them 60 to 75 years old. It is impossible for me to stand beneath one and not appreciate its connectedness, timelessness, and endurance.
There is a certain innate wisdom in a giant tree. At this time of year, our western red cedars remind us to comfortably give in to nature’s flow – to routinely practice shedding the unnecessary (foliage, stuff, outdated ideas, bad habits, toxic relationships) as a path to reduce stress, promote health and prepare ourselves for the next round of buffeting winds.
Computers and associated realms are a relevant part of my life, but not the most significant part. I am not a computer engineer, designer, programmer, gamer, seller, or even frequent buyer. I’m even a bit stand-offish as a blogger and social networker.
But I’m not really a newbie. 
Computers have always been a part of my work life. We’ve had personal computers in our household (and household budget) for almost 30 years. Griz’ professional life as an electronics and software engineer was the original motivation; but with the tools available, I was a user from the beginning. (Remember DOS?)
But admittedly, Griz is the computer geek at our house. I am a geek lover, geek observer, geek appreciator and sometimes geek user (don’t go there). Griz and I now run a small online business together (Tools-n-Gizmos.com) which combines our compatible computer skills with Griz’ passion for all things tool.
But to me, computers are essentially just that: tools – nothing more. I don’t really have a passion for tools. If the hardware and software are serving my current needs, I’m content. I never lust after the latest, greatest, fastest. The latest, greatest and fastest are, afterall, available next year – perfected and less expensive. I have never been cutting-edge oriented – about computers or anything else really.
I upgrade when I want, in response to whim or need, but I’ve never considered learning new software or adjusting to new hardware a variety of “fun.” It’s just an acceptable part of the process – like trimming your toenails.
But even with a resident geek in the household, I don’t remember ANY computer change – EVER – going as planned. There’s ALWAYS a little OUCH factor somewhere in even the simple adjustments. This last week, with an untimely combination of personal and business computer glitches, I seriously considered the possibility that most computer professions are actually masochistic – based on an eternal cycle of voluntarily-inflicted and subsequently-resolved pain.
I retreated from that extreme as this week’s -isms began to wane. Now I’m back to this: Computer life is an accurate, unceasing metaphor for life in general. It’s the Tao all over again.
Consider the slippery slope of a change or upgrade:
YOU START WITH:
What you think you have,
What you think you know,
And for the unwise, what you think you are relative to those.
Add a little wisdom and you realize all of the above are merely your subjective opinions, but, I digress…
SO (wise or unwise):
You decide to make a change, however minor or grandiose.
NOW YOU HAVE:
What you think you have,
What you think you know,
What you want to happen,
SO:
You do some research.
THROW INTO THE MIX
What you’ve been told will happen (expert advice or marketing “truths“)
What you think you’ve been told will happen (the advice and marketing filtered by your subjective receptivity and interpretation of the information).
AND YOU WIND UP WITH:
What you EXPECT to happen.
So you make a CHOICE to invest your time or money or both in pursuit of those hazard-prone EXPECTATIONS.
Drumroll…………………………
And then you have – ta-da:
WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENS…
…which invariably does not go as smoothly as you’d hoped or expected; takes at least twice as much time to complete or resolve; develops a life of its own which changes other things you never thought would be impacted; and ultimately alters much of what you thought you knew about what you know, what you have, and what you want.
So, if you’re wise, – you learn to enjoy the process – The Tao, the way, the moment – the joy of the journey. Don’t hold out for the ultimate objective – you may never quite get there. The journey may not always be fun, but it rarely needs to be a struggle either.
Which, of course, must be why many of the computer geeks I know are so mellow, philosophical and spiritually enlightened. (Possibly a facetious remark.)
I am not a religious person, but I have strong, non-dogmatic spiritual beliefs drawn from several of the world’s religious traditions. My beliefs give me a comfortable certainty of continuance after death, but I am free of the need to define continuance in detail.
I am also not a big fan of rituals – funerals, of course, being one of my least favorites. I understand all the traditional grief-resolution arguments about funerals; I have planned some and attended many – some beautiful, some bordering on ridiculous. The most ridiculous are those with the strongest discontinuity between the deceased’s life and the subsequent eulogism. Nonetheless, I have a reasonable tolerance of other people’s need for ritual. I understand I’m the oddball.
Griz and I, however, have both made specific requests in our wills for NO FUNERAL. One of us will probably have the luxury of expecting this request to be honored. We have both requested cremation with our ashes to be scattered at sea - if such can be easily arranged and if sea-scattering is still legal. I suppose the scattering might provide an opportunity for ritual if any survivors feel inclined – not much you can do about it from the ash side of things.
Though I have not specified it in my will, I have discussed alternative ash disposal methods with those close to me. For the record, beneath a big cedar tree is a current favorite. But my attachment to the ultimate disposition of this mortal vessel is so minimalistic, that down the toilet or into the compost heap would not offend. One of my environmental goals, after all, is to leave no visible footprint. However, if the compost heap is where I land, I would like to request no brussels sprouts be grown from that particular soil. I have never acquired a taste for brussels sprouts: it’s odd really – I love most varieties of cabbage. Perhaps I’ll evolve through that particular distaste on the “ash side of things.”
I did not watch the Michael Jackson memorial at Staples Center; but, of course, I have been brushed by the news bytes and commentary – pro and con. Participating in such a super-bowlesque extravaganza for ANY reason is almost beyond my comprehension, but I don’t deride those who did. It seems a fitting element of grief resolution for the family and friends of a talented musician who lived virtually his whole life in the public eye. Music and entertainment are integral to his siblings’ lives as well – this family needed this.
A friend directed me to the video of Jermaine Jackson’s touching rendition of Smile. I was particularly moved because Smile was one of my father’s favorite songs – something I didn’t even know until I was caring for Dad at the end of his life. Smile was originally a song of my father’s generation and was written by Charlie Chaplin.
Music, family ties, loss and grief are cross-cultural and cross-generational. Even someone as ritualistically flippant as me is moved when I’m reminded of the profound universality of our humanness.
I am fortunate to have been raised in one of those families (immediate and extended) in which laughter was as integral to the family dynamic as love. As a youngster, I thought positive humor was everyone’s primary coping mechanism. It wasn’t until the school years with feedback from others that I realized my family might be a little different. School chums visiting for the weekend would go home with sore stomach muscles, reporting to their parents that my family never stopped laughing. I got labeled as a character quite young – nothing to be ashamed of.
We were not a wealthy family, but we did have fun together, sometimes even in the gravest circumstances. We were not spared the standard roster of dire events – lost loves and fortunes, premature deaths from misadventure; chronic, serious and terminal diseases – you know the drill. We just used humor to place life’s ups and downs in perspective. I should add that laughter was not used as a weapon in my family, only as shared commentary and commiseration on life’s predicaments
As you grow-up in one of these laugh factories, you do learn to temper your humor when outside the family fold. It’s best to avoid having to apologize for your laughter. There is much to be serious about in life; and many people take offense if you don’t honor the gravity of their station and circumstances. I admit laughter is risky and can be inappropriate in some situations: job interviews; church services-especially funerals; during sex with a new lover, for example.
Some people don’t seem to enjoy laughter all that much. They equate laughter with silliness and unnecessary frivolity. Sometimes laughter is silly, sometimes it is frivolous; most often it’s an intelligent, healthy response to life’s unpredictability.
Griz and I (my current family) have a lot of fun together, too. Laughter is a large part of our bond. Much of the mate-seeking process for us characters is to find someone who gets (tolerates) our sense of humor – and gets it well enough to live with it day-to-day. If you’re lucky like me, you find another, compatible character.
Taking life lightly is probably my principal attraction to Taoism. Although I do not define myself as a Taoist per se, Taoist teachings do resonate with me. Perhaps I was a Taoist last time around. I like the following description by the late John Blofeld. For a relatively short description, I think Blofeld succeeds at capturing what I consider that “twinkle in the eye” of the Tao:
In one sense, the Tao is the originator, container, substance, and goal of the universe – thus nothing lies apart from it. Shapeless, invisible, intangible, it is the creator, substance, and being of a myriad transient forms, of which you and I are two, Mount Kanchenjunga forms a third, the garden dung-heap a fourth, the moon a fifth, and so on. The Tao seeks no praise, no worship. The Tao is. In another sense, the Tao is the path one follows in order to be transfused by the inimitable perfection which realization of the goal bestows. Moreover, since there are many kinds of sentient beings at various levels of understanding, the Tao comprises different paths, some long, some short. All lead eventually to the goal.
What goal? Blissful consciousness of perfect identity with the sublime Tao. From this consciousness flows such harmony between reality (the Tao) and its transient manifestation (say, you or me) that henceforth one can act with pure spontaneity in dealing with all life’s exigencies, like a tree bending towards the sunlight. Fear and anxiety vanish; for, in an ultimate sense, nothing can ever go wrong. Light and dark, up and down, health and sickness, life and death are all part of the interplay of transient phenomena whereby the Tao manifests the Tao. Your birth added nothing to it. My death will take nothing from it. Nor, in fact, are birth and death valid concepts, except in a wholly relative sense, for, since every atom of my body, mind, personality, etc., is the Tao, nothing came into being at my birth, nothing will cease to be when I die. So ha-ha-ho-ha-ha! Having realized what I really am, I can face all that may come with laughing equanimity, never sure that a change for the so-called worse (including death, ha-ha-ha) will not turn out to be a change for the so-called better. If it does not turn out that way, that’s fine too, for a realized Taoist is too wise to take opposites such as better or worse, at all seriously. I am soon to become an emperor – ha-ha-ha-ha! I am destined to be lousy beggar – ha-ha-ha-ha! It’s all a game. Any part will suit me fine. You are going to give me a thirty-two course (plus side dishes) Chinese Banquet? Thanks, I’ll enjoy that. We have only a bowl or two of inferior quality boiled rice for dinner? That will go down very nicely. We have nothing on which to dine? Splendid, we shall have more time to sit outside and enjoy the moonlight, with music provided by the wind in the pines.
You see how enviable is the lot of people who have realized the Tao! Nothing can upset them. Youth passes – so does spring. Old age comes – so do winter’s lovely snowscapes and the kettles bubbling over glowing charcoal. I’m bursting with energy, so I’ll jog or climb Mount Hua. I’m too ill to move, so I’ll enjoy my warm bed and meditate. My wife loves me, “O what joys behind hibiscus curtains!” My wife has left me; how peaceful it is now. Old Wang has a delicious concubine. I have a charming blue-eyed cat. Reagan is delighted with his new aeroplane. I have fun with my old bamboo raft. I find that I can sleep in only one bedroom at a time and that my old wadded gown sits lighter than fur. While you sit watching pictures on your color TV set, I stand gazing at ripples in a moonlit pond, thanking the gods for not interrupting with commercials. You are a funny creature; so am I – ha-ha! Who isn’t?
(c) 1983 John Blofeld, from the Introduction to The Collected Songs of Cold Mountain translated by Red Pine
We rarely get a sunset tall enough to splash color above our 60-year old evergreens. Conditions have to be just right – a very red sunset and clearing to the west with high clouds lingering overhead here to provide a reflective canvas. One of nature’s perfect moments of fleeting artistry.
Living in nature can be demanding at times but the rewards are abundant. Staying spontaneous enough to stop all else and relish such serendipity promotes my sense of personal balance. (Photos are icing.)
I have always loved rocks – not gemstones, just rocks. I took geology in college so I know the basics, but my love of rocks is more esoteric and artistic than scientific. On walks, I collect what catches my eye, for color, shape or imagined story.
We live on a slope of soil over glacial till – an endless supply of rocks. More rocks surface each year through erosion, gentle flow or slump. I’m a subtle collector - a rock or two a month, but I wind up with rock piles over time. I made myself an Easter basket today - rocks over moss:
Why do I do this? It’s one of those harmless “you-like-what-you-like” behaviors – analysis may diminish the experience. But here are the keyword themes motivating my rock love: beauty, creation, endurance, eternity, stillness.
To spare you from boredom, future rock blogging will always have the word “rock” in the title. Even I’m often surprised at how easily I can be entertained.
I am not a religious person, though I often find myself in appreciative awe of the positive emotional energy behind some of my friends’ assorted “holy days.” It doesn’t surprise me that holidays from different religions often overlap or coincide.
I think the greatest spiritual teachers all emphasize finding our commonalities rather than judging our differences. We find our commonalities by educating ourselves and our children, and by communicating with each other. We do not find commonalities by pointing fingers, arguing over who’s privy to historical truth, and warring over who’s right and who’s wrong.
I’m particularly impressed with The Institute of Noetic Sciences (IONS) educational program, Worldview Literacy:
Worldview literacy helps people to recognize that beliefs are embedded within personal and cultural frames of reference, that other people hold different worldviews, and there are skills and capacities that can be cultivated to deal with the complexities of divergent worldviews. Such skills, including critical thinking, self-reflection, emotional and social intelligence, cultural appreciation, and non-violent communication, offer young people powerful new tools that are good for them and good for the world.
Our worldviews or models of reality are often unconscious. They can be brought to awareness through reading or discussion, but it is more effective to personally encounter situations that highlight those assumptions. Just as travel in exotic lands can open our eyes to new points of view, this project provides worldview scenarios that teach through experience and focused encounters with other kids and their life experiences.
More than ever, we live in a global community - providing children with the power of a global perspective is a huge step toward a community without the horrors of war.
