tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-159988712024-02-28T01:16:52.389-05:00Getting Ready For OblivionAn account of one man's journey through life.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-68267421254633920092020-06-25T13:44:00.000-04:002020-06-25T13:49:14.979-04:00Wait for it.The universe is as inhospitable as we are fragile. The vacuum of space, the immense heat of stars, and an apparent coldness of the distance between. Then there is the familiar landscape of inner space. In sleepless nights we explore its fertile fields where quiet fears of inadequacy and corse pains of abandonment flourish. Unbearable, it seems.<br />
<br />
Not choosing birth, we forage for that which blunts its sting. Seeking solace we climb peaks of emotion or wander valleys groping for yesterday's goodness<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">. Drunken nights retreat, as sobriety trickles in from the east. Disheveled in an unforgiving light, we find ourselves aged but no wiser. </span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Friend. Trust without evidence other than our friendship, that a covert call to a magnificent flying creature is tied to every act. A regal one, whose melodious song sways innocent ears and whose wings stroke a comforting and consuming flame. Unflinchingly endure. For the unfortunate brave emit from every pore and breath, a call, an invitation to be met. Waiting for it.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDbYgDNLPmvzQ4jsNR3x1wkuTuBTLSaGiNsqL0y45J0VZcPLPRtc5IFnKyeBOsYfoLWQLgPNSEVNHiTh3oPnJCMCQLIRAqqT6HEYnzmrRAfQWhuNN1flINlSBPZ7u6ai-DjXU/s640/blogger-image-1574837117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDbYgDNLPmvzQ4jsNR3x1wkuTuBTLSaGiNsqL0y45J0VZcPLPRtc5IFnKyeBOsYfoLWQLgPNSEVNHiTh3oPnJCMCQLIRAqqT6HEYnzmrRAfQWhuNN1flINlSBPZ7u6ai-DjXU/s640/blogger-image-1574837117.jpg" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Shepherd Canyon Oakland37.836136 -122.193307tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-20939561916937028082013-02-20T15:57:00.000-05:002014-07-06T14:02:38.571-04:00A Late Latte Afternoon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A simmering coffee house</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">brimming with living noise.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Amidst an aroma of comfort, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">quietly he yearns to be held</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">crackers clutched in small </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">hands, bright eyes on a distant</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Cheerio. She’s young, safe</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">to share love, secure to share </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">life. A mother, and still, a lover. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Serene, soft eyes and subtle </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">smile, breathes in the moment,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">acknowledges the gift.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Gracious caresses rain on </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">the little darling, squirming,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">then submitting to the warmth</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">of touch unconditioned.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">A forgotten Cheerio, a father’s </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">gift, a late latte afternoon. </span><br />
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-70194628765059432362013-01-21T20:59:00.005-05:002013-01-21T21:06:11.255-05:00Slow Moving<br />
Today I found myself laying unusually late on my living room floor, looking up at the skylight, the sun streaming in, the buzzing of a lost wasp filled the room. As I laid there, I asked myself where am I going? And there was no reply, just the sound of a frustrated wasp attempting to penetrate the plexiglass skylight. I used to have long conversations with myself, I would ask questions and receive answers, lately though, there is nothing answering back, it appears as though I've abandoned myself. I suppose I have no other option but to forge forward alone. <br />
<br />
So, I laid there for a few minutes more, patiently waiting, curiously wondering, subtly hoping, if a reply would come forward, still nothing. I turned my attention to the wasp, he would smack himself against the skylight, fall a few feet then recover mid-air and give it another go. I watched this futile process repeat itself. Other than the plexiglass, what was going through the wasp's head? I'm not a fan of wasps, and I really don't think anyone is, so it crossed my mind to grab a broom and put an end to his life, alternately I though perhaps I should be benevolent and help him out a window.<br />
<br />
Then I looked at the wasp, and reflected on my understanding of how the world works, got up and started my studying. Perhaps he'll die there in my living room and wind up a dry carcass on a windowsill, perhaps he'll be lying in wait and give me a bite at some point tonight and die at my hand, perhaps he'll escape the house and have a story to share with his fellow wasps about how he, without any assistance, was able to free himself from what appeared to be an invisible barrier.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-41188949022329099182013-01-17T02:14:00.001-05:002013-01-17T23:44:29.158-05:00A Return?<br />
After a long pause...<br />
<br />
The years have been rich with life. I have learned much of myself, and this world we share. When I started this blog, I was a young man searching for himself. Maintaining relationships, making a living, and navigating life appeared to be difficult enough, without having to figure myself out in the process. At the time I was devoted to being a better man, and making myself worthy of walking this earth. I did this because as a youngster, I was made to feel unwelcome as I was. This sentiment was ingrained in me, and tainted every decision, every choice, every goal, every aspiration I made. Years upon years I spent trying to hide faults or improve my character, trying to be more, yet never feeling completely at home, never feeling completely accepted. More often than not I found myself finding comfort with a subtle discomfort.<br />
<br />
More recently, I recognized the idiocy of it all. I saw clearly the young boy in me desperately trying to find approval from those I wrongfully elevated as gatekeepers of worth. And that's all it took. But where has it left me? Every goal, every aspiration was based on that lie. Now what? What motivation remains, if it isn't what it has been my whole life. Where is the guiding force that I relied on to overcome all the obstacles, achieve all the goals, gain the skills and develop my abilities?<br />
<br />
Is this a depression I have found myself in? A depression, not of sadness, melancholy, or grief, but of sheer emptiness. The only reprieve I find from this emptyness comes when I am engaged in a task, but as soon as I still my body, the emptiness becomes apparent. I've sat for hours looking into it, listening, all while the ticking of my wall clock passing through me. What has happened? <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1162131227197430512006-10-29T09:10:00.001-05:002007-03-01T20:26:52.806-05:00On Leaving Law SchoolIn order to fully understand why I left law school it’s best first to start with the reason I was there to begin with. Like so many I was not born with the dream of being a lawyer, rather I was motivated to study law because I had the fear of not studying law. Fear that anything other than being a lawyer would be unworthy or not prestigious enough to satisfy my ego. Since I judged myself according to this criterion, it was only natural that I judged others in the same way. Externally I hid this judgmental self under a veneer of acceptance and openness, when the external and internal are in conflict then friction is a natural result (this friction is manifested in muscular tension and thought processes which in turn give rise to emotional responses, all of which if left unchecked needlessly consume life energy and feed off one another until the point of exhaustion.)<br /> Now if you had asked me at the beginning of my studies why I wanted to be a lawyer I would have answered, “to help people,” in order to present a virtuous image of myself (once again the desire to be virtous was based on inherited notions of what is "good".) This was a complete lie or half truth (aka bullshit), since the main reason I wanted to be a lawyer was to help my self perception (ego). This ego was defined and constructed by society but mainly influenced by my parents. As a child I inherited what is right, what is wrong, what is good, what is bad, what is success, what is failure etc. My parents placed upon me the idea that doctors, lawyers, etc are valued more than plumbers, gardeners and retail workers (side note: my most fulfilling job was doing part time topiary work as an undergrad maybe someday I'll return to this). As a child I never understood this but accepted it as truth and as a result I formed my own mental impressions of the world based on this inherited understanding. In a sense I was asleep at the switch of life, not taking the time to investigate internally what these things mean to me, instead I unquestionably took that which was given to me externally as absolute, never really understanding what is internally correct. As a result of accepting these “goods” and “bads” I was in effect in a state of constant reaction, making decisions and acting based on external values, like one of Pavlov’s dogs I was a bag of conditioned responses, not free to do what I internally felt was right but constrained by inherited valuations. As I reacted through life I felt something was wrong, but I didn’t know what it was. The decision to attend law school (like many others) was in a sense a conditioned response based upon those inherited valuations.<br /> Law school is a great place to learn how to think analytically, as law students we spend most of our time using this tool on the external world building up our sense of self worth (because of increased ability to catagorize and systematize the external world), yet never really understanding anything of personal value (does being able to explain Pennoir lead you to a lasting happiness). Socrates, to whom much of law school's teaching style is based upon said, “the unexamined life is not worth living”. Although these words are harsh, they convey great wisdom. With out that examination are we really living or just going through the motions dictated to us by external forces, veritable marionettes on the stage of life? Our strings being pulled by our forefathers. For me this examination was difficult because I harbored a litany of personal demons; fear, anger, hatred, selfishness. Slowly though, as I sincerely looked further into myself, I confronted these things and stripped them of their power over my actions, not eliminate them but simply recognized their presence and separated them from having control over my actions.<br /> At some point during my last semester I found clarity which led to an understanding of all I conveyed above. With this understanding the inherited valuations began to melt away, and as a result I lost the fear that launched me into law school. With this new understanding I no longer felt the need to continue in the costly law school endeavor. That is not to say that a law degree is an unworthy pursuit (after all many of my friends are lawyers or soon to be) simply that it’s not an item I feel is necessary for my own well being. For the time being, which is the never ending moment, you can find me putting my energy into what is in front of me.<br /> I hope what I have written above helps you in some way find what I have found, please take care. There are no true answers only true questions. Be well my friends.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1153850264550008902006-07-25T13:37:00.000-04:002006-07-26T20:11:35.820-04:00Dojo Days<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/8.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/8.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Wake!<br />fold the linens<br />cleanse the body<br />watch the clouds<br />sit at our desk<br />make the bed<br />sleep!<br />watch the clouds</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1146924846599610332006-05-06T09:49:00.000-04:002017-04-02T15:10:21.249-04:00Morocco<h3 style="font-weight: normal;">
<st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on"></st1:place></st1:country-region> In three days I'll leave behind my first year of law school and board a plane bound for <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Morocco</st1:place></st1:country-region>. A few years back <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">I spent some time living there.</st1:place></st1:country-region> It was where I first began to understand that beliefs and actions do not have to be in conflict with one another. My own inner termoil was often the product of the friction between what I believed was the proper way to interact with the world, and how I actually did interact with the world. This learning process started at the feet of some very unique people, and has continued since. Although the they were of a different faith, it did not prevent them from sharing with me their thoughts and welcoming me into their lives. The Moroccan environment and culture was new to me, so for survival reasons I scrutinized everything I saw and heard. I constantly looked for inconsistent behavior or speech (warning signs of trouble) in the people around me, not once did I find it in my friends. Unwavering they transmitted to me their love of the divine and their reverence for their faith. I began to understand that my analysis of them was actually an analysis of myself. I felt that I needed to find a flaw in their behavior in order to validate those of my own, otherwise I would always be less than them, a prospect my ego could not handle at the time. To the insincere, sincerity can be unsettling. Soon I realized that I too could lead such a life. I was converted, not to their faith, but to their manner of being. As a result I'm constantly checking my actions against my beliefs, so that I may make corrections when needed. In the meantime if I exhibit any hypocrisy, forgive me, as I'm still in the process of working it all out.<o:p></o:p></h3>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1146518465361196462006-05-01T17:11:00.001-04:002006-05-01T23:53:28.173-04:00The Storm Has Passed.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/DSC_0310s.5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/DSC_0310s.3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Now, is the best time to comb the sand.<br />The beach is dry.<br />A few things have been washed out to sea.<br />The surf is up.<br />A few things have been washed ashore.<br />The storm has passed.<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1140489240521043552006-02-20T21:21:00.000-05:002006-05-02T08:43:59.840-04:00Henry David Thoreau<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/Hand.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 348px; height: 213px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/320/Hand.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="body">"Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves."</span><br /></div><span class="body"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1139755183258875822006-02-12T09:32:00.000-05:002006-05-08T08:04:57.383-04:00Cold Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/Snow%20Tree2.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/Snow%20Tree2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Some where in all that snow are my balls, they froze off and rolled down my pant leg when I stepped outside this morning to take this picture.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1138311287225692522006-01-26T15:41:00.001-05:002006-05-02T08:54:26.623-04:00Listening to fireworks<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/22.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/22.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/23.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/23.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/21.1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/21.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div></div>A good friend once told me that talking about Aikido is like listening to fireworks over a phone. I imagine the same could be said of looking at photographs. Aikido can't be expressed fully in photographs or words, Aikido needs to be felt. What I express in the pictures is not Aikido, but my view of the world at the time these photos were created, nothing more, nothing less. To view these photos is to see the world as I did. Beauty in art is not dependent on what the art looks like, sounds like, or tastes like. The beauty is in the emotional harmony that develops between the creator and the audience through the creation. When art is experienced and the audience "feels" something, and that "something" is what the artist felt (or simply what the the audience feels the artist felt) during its creation, then that's damn good art.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1137382568226112262006-01-15T21:51:00.000-05:002006-05-07T22:58:42.033-04:00Every Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/Life%20sign.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/Life%20sign.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>It's important to pay attention to the signs around us, you never know where there may be more to them than meets the eye.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1137301103927469082006-01-14T23:47:00.000-05:002006-05-08T08:01:49.606-04:00Late Night in Philly<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/12.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/12.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1137294596900041042006-01-14T22:01:00.000-05:002013-01-17T22:57:37.785-05:00Looking Up<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/13.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/13.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Tree<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/4.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Arbol<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Albero<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/9.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/9.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Arbre<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/17.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/17.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Árvore</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1137035647193383582006-01-11T22:09:00.000-05:002006-05-08T08:00:10.223-04:00Pitcher Picture<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/Pitcher%20plants%20edit.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 336px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/Pitcher%20plants%20edit.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1136853222101105922006-01-09T19:22:00.000-05:002013-01-17T22:57:59.876-05:00On my way home<span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/Bench.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/Bench.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Bench<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/Door.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/Door.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Door<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/bar.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/bar.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Bar<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/Street.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/Street.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Street</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1136777161154322982006-01-08T22:17:00.000-05:002006-05-08T07:58:55.380-04:00My View From the Top<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/Ben%20Frank.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/Ben%20Frank.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/HSMV.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/HSMV.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1136523547165011792006-01-05T23:31:00.001-05:002008-04-21T00:35:15.958-04:00For my love<p class="MsoNormal">The sun is setting and rising.<br />I sleep while you've been awake.<br />Our lungs move as one, as do our arms.<br />Together we swim.<br />Separated by what's behind the eyes.<br />In plain sight the discovery awaits. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1136521561895453342006-01-05T23:02:00.001-05:002008-04-21T00:37:38.676-04:00When speaking of It<p class="MsoNormal">You are wrong,<br />the Christians are wrong,<br />the Jews are wrong,<br />the Muslims are wrong,<br />the Hindus are wrong,<br />the Sikhs are wrong,<br />the Jains are wrong,<br />the Taoists are <span style=""> </span>wrong,<br />the Buddhists are wrong,<br />the Bahai are wrong,<br />the Atheists are wrong,<br />the Shamans are wrong,<br />and I am wrong.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1136519882488963892006-01-05T22:20:00.001-05:002008-04-21T00:34:15.668-04:00Back from Vacation<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/Daze%20edit.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/Daze%20edit.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/petals%20edit.1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/petals%20edit.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/grass%20edit.1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/grass%20edit.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Here are few pictures I took while on vacation [I was demonstrating the photo capabilities of a digicam we gave as a gift, all of these were taken in my finance's parents garden with a Canon Elph, 3 megapixel camera and edited with MS office picture manager]. I spent my two weeks split between Argentina and Chile. The wealth I witnessed was greater than any I've ever seen before, daily it was displayed in the shared meals amongst my finance's family. Each meal was a family event. Fourteen year old grandchildren to eighty year old grandparents were equally engaged in the preparation of the meals and the ensuing conversations. The flavor and nutrition of the food was enhanced by the love and respect that was present at each meal. Truly the greatest measure of one's wealth is the ability to share a meal with those you love and admire.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/Lone%20Cacti%20edit.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/Lone%20Cacti%20edit.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/1600/Serinity%20edit.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2695/1502/400/Serinity%20edit.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1134876892493062962005-12-17T22:29:00.000-05:002006-05-08T08:09:12.550-04:00Self Knowledge<p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><i>I have not loved the world, nor the world me;<br />I have not flatter'd its rank breath, nor bow'd<br />To its idolatries a patient knee,<br />Nor coin'd my cheek to smiles, nor cried aloud<br />In worship of an echo; in the crowd<br />They could not deem me one of such; I stood<br />Among them, but not of them; in a shroud<br />Of thoughts which were not their thoughts, and still could,<br />Had I not filed my mind, which thus itself subdued.<o:p></o:p></i></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><i>I have not loved the world, nor the world me - <o:p></o:p><br />But let us part fair foes; I do believe, <o:p></o:p><br />Though I have found them not, that there may be <o:p></o:p><br />Words which are things - hopes which will not deceive, <o:p></o:p><br />And virtues which are merciful nor weave <o:p></o:p><br />Snares for the failing: I would also deem <o:p></o:p><br />O'er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve; <o:p></o:p><br />That two, or one, are almost what they seem - <o:p></o:p><br />That goodness is no name, and happiness no dream.<o:p></o:p></i></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><o:p> -Lord Byron<br /></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">When I was young I readily identified with Byron’s words from Childe Harold, because I knew myself to be distant from those around me.<span style=""> </span>Although I’ve lost the adversarial posture I once had with the world, my concerns still are rarely those of my peers.<span style=""> </span>I have come to understand that although their thoughts revolve around things such as careers, assets, social standing and politics, mine generally arise from concerns about finding and understanding a path of righteousness.<span style=""> </span>I carry with me idealistic baggage of how things ought to be, but my actions are no different than those who do not.<span style=""> </span>I have lived a selfish life no different than those who have spent their years accumulating wealth, or following fashion trends.<span style=""> </span>Sadly, I’ve held disdain for those whose apparent concern for the world goes no further than their front door.<span style=""> </span>Who am I to pass such judgment?<span style=""> </span>Not only is my vision incomplete but I’ve been mistaken as to its vantage point. I feel as though I have let many opportunities to put portions of the world back in order, slip though my hands.<span style=""> </span>How many times have I’ve walked away from people whose story I felt uncompelled to hear because my self centered high mindedness.<span style=""> </span>How many times have I knowingly caused harm to others because of my arrogance?<span style=""> </span>How many times have I said too much and done too little?<span style=""> </span>The lens through which I view the world has seen its reflection. <span style=""> </span>Too long I’ve dwelt in the comfort of my mind, avoiding that which is uncomfortable.<span style=""> </span>Too often my heart has stood silently in the shadows witnessing the wrestling match between my intellect and my instinct.<span style=""> </span>Have I deluded myself into thinking that my beliefs have an intrinsic value outside of my mind? <span style=""> </span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1134333525501341502005-12-11T15:06:00.002-05:002008-04-30T13:43:25.811-04:00Stomach acheThis morning I woke up at 5:30am with a pain in my stomach. I remained in bed, trying to figure out what was causing the pain, of course I thought it might be something I ate the night before. All I had was a cheese sandwich and some french fries from a diner in Philly and I was feeling fine when I went to bed several hours after consuming the meal, so I doubted that it was food poisoning. It must be something else I thought to myself. I figured I would do extra bokken strikes to try and work out what ever it was that I was feeling. Usually my energy levels are low when I wake up so I practice my suburi and it has a way of invigorating my body and mind, so since I was feeling ill this morning I figured that I would practiced an extra two hundred strikes. The bokken strikes woke me up but the knot in my stomach still persisted. I bathed and prepared a breakfast but had no appetite to eat. I went downstairs to study until the library opened, then walked to the library and continued my studies. In the afternoon I called my fiance hoping that talking with her would make me feel better, but the conversation was strained and ended somewhat abruptly. It was as if I hadn't had the energy to carry a conversation and was simply going through the motions without much thought, I couldn't really understand what was being communicated. I got back to my studies and started thinking about what I was feeling, and it hit me. I realized that my mind had been so involved in my preparation for my exams that I lost the connection with the world around me. This morning when I awoke I was aware of the pain in my stomach but my thoughts were about how it would effect my studying for the day, when I made breakfast the food was not appealing because I was to busy thinking of my studies to realize the value and pleasure of eating a home cooked meal. When I was speaking with my fiance my mind was on my studies and how the time speaking with her might be better spent studying. In all the instances I lost touch with reality that there is nothing more in life than that which is in front of me. Even as I write this I could be spending the time studying but I now understand that in order to live life I've got to stop worrying about things and just pay attention to what I'm doing.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1134154187607566782005-12-09T13:00:00.000-05:002006-05-01T22:36:31.886-04:00The first snow of winter<p class="MsoNormal">In my new home town the first snow of winter has fallen. It is an extraordinary experience to wake up in the morning to a city blanketed in white powder. Fresh snow has a therapeutic effect, it has the ability to make even the most derelict of cityscapes into a soft wonderland. With the beauty of snow comes the harsh reality of winter. The homeless, the weak, the old and infirm are all in a risk of elevated harm that comes with the snow. In the animal world winter is trial for which only the strong and well conditioned survive, this strengthens the species for continued survival against future winters, just as a cunning fox guarantees the proliferation of cunning rabbits. Unlike the animal world, we do not have predators to contend with, and the survival of our species is not at risk with the seasonal changes, so what benefit can we derive with the coming of winter? Let me suggest that winter can be seen as a test of our humanity. It gives us an opportunity to reach out and help those who may need the help, it can allow us to demonstrate that which defines us as human. Whether it's a monetary contribution, a donation of time, or the giving of additional respect and courtesy to those who are less fortunate, the necessity of compassion should not be underestimated, nor should the benefits.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1132531586182756952005-11-20T18:50:00.000-05:002006-05-01T22:36:09.596-04:00On a train<i style="">I’ve boarded a train that will take me to visit my sister in NY, on the train I saw some kids that reminded me of myself.<span style=""> </span>I wondered what the future would bring them and what they might bring the future.<span style=""> </span>These are my thoughts.<o:p></o:p></i><o:p> </o:p> <p class="MsoNormal">When I was young I used to get a pleasure out of offending or shocking people, in part it was due to my desire to gain attention.<span style=""> </span>My hunger was fueled by the sense of loneliness I had as a kid, my mother laden with the burdens of raising four children alone was always busy and my father was absent, except for the occasional weekend visit.<span style=""> </span>My brothers were so distant in age that my connection with them was tenuous and my sisters, were my sisters, and to a young boy they were not the ideal play friends and besides they had one another.<span style=""> </span>Because of various situations my family moved around quite a bit, often I would be made to change schools, which made my ability to make good friends difficult.<span style=""> </span>I was an ill behaved youth, and for a time I fell in with the “wrong” crowd because they gave me a sense of belonging and attention that I felt I had been missing.<span style=""> </span>I noticed that they too were all products of missing parents and unorthodox upbringings.<span style=""> </span>My history was the tamest of the group, their parents where drug addicts, spousal abusers, criminals etc…<span style=""> </span>Often our conversations would revolve around how difficult we had it compared to others.<span style=""> </span>In retrospect we often overlooked what we had that was good, like our health, opportunities for education, and the fact that our basic needs were met.<span style=""> </span>Our society’s fetish with material wealth and extravagance has made people forget or fail to recognize the importance of the immaterial and mundane.<span style=""> </span>It has taken me a long time to understand this.<span style=""> </span>In my group of friends at the time there was an underlying sense of anger for not having a “regular” life.<span style=""> </span>That anger manifested itself in antisocial and criminal behavior. I was fortunate enough to have had the seed of military service planted in my mind as a young child, so instead of diving into the acts of self destruction that my friends were doing I chose the path of military service.<span style=""> </span>In the military I strove for attention and recognition, not by offending or shocking people but by leading as an example of military discipline, I conditioned my body and character to exude the desired military traits.<span style=""> </span>But what was at the heart of this desire for attention?<span style=""> </span>Was it a need to be recognized by others in order to validate my own existence, to affirm my uncertain choices, to quite my fears? <span style=""> </span>I don’t know.<span style=""> </span>What I do know is that it is fine to be recognized for doing things, but that the recognition should not be the prime reason for doing them.<span style=""> </span>The sooner we can shed our desires for seeking attention and recognition for their own sake, the sooner we can focus on doing things that are genuine.<span style=""> </span>What’s genuine?<span style=""> </span>I think the answer to this question must be arrived at independently for it to be of any value. <span style=""> </span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15998871.post-1132252275148942382005-11-17T13:16:00.000-05:002006-05-01T22:35:55.566-04:00Parting Thoughts<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Below is something I wrote when I left my Aikido Dojo. For those who don't know Aikido, is a martial art that strives to achieve balance, like all things in life its purpose is that which the practitioner ascribes. A "Gasshaku" is like a training retreat or period of intense study, "Uke" is the person who is having a technique applied to, "Nage" is the person applying a technique, a "Dojo" is a training hall, and the word "Aikido" can be translated to mean "The way of harmonizing universal energy".</i><b style=""><span style="font-size:10;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p> <span style="font-style: italic;"></span> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><span style="font-size:10;">Parting thoughts I’d Like To Share<o:p></o:p><o:p></o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10;">For the past 18 months I’ve been given a gift from each of my training partners.<span style=""> </span>I cannot underscore enough the deep appreciation that I have for all of you.<span style=""> </span>If I would have to categorize the most valuable thing I’ve learned while training at the Aikido Institute it would be the knowledge of who I am within the context of the Dojo, which in itself is a reflection of society.<span style=""> </span>All of you have imparted knowingly and unknowingly lessons to me in patience, attention, communication and humility.<span style=""> </span>Few training days have gone by where I didn’t realize or was shown how I could improve on my character.<span style=""> </span>The technical aspects of moving with grace and power are what brought me to the door.<span style=""> </span>They appealed to my lower self, the aspect of my identity that seeks to look good, have control and gain power.<span style=""> </span>At first this was my only motivation.<span style=""> </span>But something gradually changed.<span style=""> </span>I began to recognize something that was of greater value in the daily training.<span style=""> </span>This realization began last year when I was sweating it out and getting thrown around at the Memorial Day Gasshaku.<span style=""> </span>I noticed that within the transaction between Uke and Nage something was being communicated.<span style=""> </span>The information was transmitted in the various amounts (and absence of) tension, resistance and power during the execution of techniques (this is a poor explanation but I hope you get the point).<span style=""> </span>I began to feel what I believe to be my partner’s animus, a clear sense of who they were at that point in time.<span style=""> </span>I’m sure many of you have made similar discoveries.<span style=""> </span>Over repeated transactions with the same people I began to recognize patterns in the information they transmitted, I believe that to be their true character.<span style=""> </span>Observing this made me reflect more upon my own self and how I could improve my techniques to be something I’d be grateful to receive.<span style=""> </span>The Dojo is a special place, it is unlike the rest of the city where we can hide behind insincere words and actions.<span style=""> </span>On the mat sincerity can easily be discerned, not by the eye or ear but by the heart.<span style=""> </span>Over the past 18 months my technical abilities have gone from rough to less rough, but more importantly I have been taught an invaluable life lesson.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10;"><span style=""> </span>Thank you all,<o:p></o:p></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0