Wait 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.

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. Drunken nights retreat, as sobriety trickles in from the east. Disheveled in an unforgiving light, we find ourselves aged but no wiser.  

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.

A Late Latte Afternoon

A simmering coffee house

brimming with living noise.

Amidst an aroma of comfort, 

quietly he yearns to be held

crackers clutched in small 

hands, bright eyes on a distant

Cheerio. She’s young, safe

to share love, secure to share 

life. A mother, and still, a lover.  

Serene, soft eyes and subtle 

smile, breathes in the moment,

acknowledges the gift.

Gracious caresses rain on 

the little darling, squirming,

then submitting to the warmth

of touch unconditioned.

A forgotten Cheerio, a father’s 

gift, a late latte afternoon. 

Slow Moving

  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.

  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.

  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.

A Return?

  After a long pause...

  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.

  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?

  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?

On Leaving Law School

In 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.)
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.
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.
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.
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.

Dojo Days

Wake!
fold the linens
cleanse the body
watch the clouds
sit at our desk
make the bed
sleep!
watch the clouds

Morocco

In three days I'll leave behind my first year of law school and board a plane bound for Morocco. A few years back I spent some time living there. 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.

The Storm Has Passed.

Now, is the best time to comb the sand.
The beach is dry.
A few things have been washed out to sea.
The surf is up.
A few things have been washed ashore.
The storm has passed.

Henry David Thoreau

"Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves."

Cold Day

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.

Listening to fireworks

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.

Every Day

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.

Late Night in Philly

Looking Up

Tree

Arbol

Albero

Arbre

Árvore

Pitcher Picture

On my way home

Bench

Door

Bar

Street

My View From the Top

For my love

The sun is setting and rising.
I sleep while you've been awake.
Our lungs move as one, as do our arms.
Together we swim.
Separated by what's behind the eyes.
In plain sight the discovery awaits.

When speaking of It

You are wrong,
the Christians are wrong,
the Jews are wrong,
the Muslims are wrong,
the Hindus are wrong,
the Sikhs are wrong,
the Jains are wrong,
the Taoists are wrong,
the Buddhists are wrong,
the Bahai are wrong,
the Atheists are wrong,
the Shamans are wrong,
and I am wrong.

Back from Vacation

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.