La Lutte (The Struggle)

“Life is essentially a cheat and its conditions are those of defeat; the redeeming things are not happiness and pleasure but the deeper satisfactions that come out of struggle.”

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

“‘A great battle is a terrible thing,’ the old knight said, ‘but in the midst of blood and carnage, there is sometimes also beauty, beauty that could break your heart.'”

-George R.R. Martin, A knight of the seven kingdoms

Hello Friends,

Welcome back to MyFortuneDays! I’m glad that you can be here to see parts of what I am working on, in and out of my writings. Thank you for clicking in and I hope you enjoy this short short story!

The title is all the intro I need to give you for this piece, but I would like to offer part of the heart behind it. This is not meant as a cynical reminiscence of a terrible experience, nor is it a cry for people to empathize with those who serve them. Rather it’s an exercise in humanism. Finding the good in one another and within ourselves even when it does not seem to be there at all. Understanding that beneath it all we have control of our own actions and further, we have control over our own thoughts.

---

“Mornin Adam.” She said with a fortuitous exuberance.

“Mornin Eva, how ya doin?” I said as I started the routine of shimmying open the lock.

She answered, “ Good! Didn’t wake up Adrian on my way out, been smooth so far.”

There was an audible pause and I could feel her eyes on my back, as if she had some need for a validating answer. A few seconds longer we stood in the soundtrack of a stuck lock until the deadbolt slid free and I swung open the door.

“Glad to hear.”

She dropped her shoulders and strutted in before me. Eva began at her work and I began at mine. For the next twenty minutes we worked silently around each other. Not even apologizing when our poor coordination caused us to bump into one another.

Our silent symphony was interrupted by the sound of glass and metal rattling violently. Followed by a muffled, “Are you ‘uys O’en!” We both looked to the door and Eva exclaimed first.

“Read the sign next to you!” I let out a stifled chuckle as I set down the cash I was counting and Eva turned her scowl toward me whispering, “Don’t let that bitch in.”

“You worry about your stuff I’ll deal with her.” I continued to the door to unlock it, “Hey welcome in,” Opening the door and giving her space to walk through, but she wouldn’t.

She huffed, “I can’t believe you people would talk to a customer that way.”

“Apologies miss, it’s early and we haven’t had our coffee yet.” Then I bellowed out a fake laugh to ease the tension. It didn’t work, her face stayed in a solid frowned state, but she walked in sighing as she passed me. Turning back, Eva had disappeared into the back room, which was probably the action that made our first customer feel comfortable enough to walk in. “How’s your mornin goin miss?”

“Ruined.”

“Well maybe I can whip something up for you to change that! What can I get ya?” She sasses out her paragraph of an order, something that must have taken years to develop. “Great! That will be seven eighty six miss.”

“What?”

I knew she could hear me, her focus was zeroed in on me, but I bit with a smile on my face, “Your drink!”

“You expect me to pay?”

“Well I’m only allowed to break one rule per a customer miss.” I let out one hack of a chuckled to signal that it was a joke, but I could tell my attempts at making her day were not helping. It was as if there would be only one thing that would make her day…free stuff. Naturally I doubled down with a worse joke, “I mean, I could probably hand you some money from our register, but that’s just money, our ingredients are important.”

She locked her eyes to mine, and scrunched her lips, I had a face of aimless stupidity but I dared not look away until she replied. Seconds passed. I wondered if it was worth it. More seconds passed. Her stubbornness was commendable. Time stopped. I noticed her eyes. A grey blue, near perfect symmetry, even with her furled eyebrows and hardened chin I could tell she was beautiful most of the time. I wondered what the disconnect was, could it have really been just one sentence yelled through glass that destroyed her confidence in humanity? Before I could finish the thought, “SWOOSH” brought us back into our timeline. I broke my deadlock with her. “Hey Dell.”

“Hey Adam, you opened early!”

“You know it Dell.” I seized the opportunity for his alley-oop, “I like to take care of my costumers.”

“Fine!” I heard with a huff as she slammed her petite purse onto the counter yanking out her wallet. Begrudgingly she shoved her card into the reader. As the transaction finished I told her that I would have it right out and she cleared her throat in response, “Uhm, what about my receipt? I fully expect I will need a refund later.”

“Oh, no worries miss, let me print that out for you.” I handed her receipt and started with her order, looked down as I worked but could feel her stare, it was burning me up. Trying to catch her face in my peripheries I glanced at Dell, “I’ll be right with ya Dell.”

“Take your time,” Dell caught on to the mood and steered into it, “my mother taught me patience is a virtue.”

Eva reappeared with a gallant smile, “Hey babe, how’s your husband?” and I lost the two of them in their jargon of conversation.

“Here is your drink miss, I apologize if we ruined your day, but I genuinely hope this helps turn your day around.” I threw on the largest smile I could with my mouth and eyes.

“Maybe next time I come in someone will know how to treat a customer with some respect.” And with that she twirled and stormed the door, blowing it open and disappearing into the morning darkness.

When my head cooled down I realized that the chattering from Dell and Eva died, and they were just staring in my direction, jaws dropped and dumbfounded.

“That’s why I like men, honey.” After Eva playfully smacked Dell in the arm, the three of us were induced to genuine laughter.

---

“You have to cherish the world at the same time you struggle to endure it.”

-Flannery O’Connor

“Once all struggle is grasped, miracles are possible.”

-Mao Zedong

 

A Jonah Series: Phase Two, The Radical Turn

 

“[death]…the abyss from where no traveler is permitted to return”

-George Washington

“If the bible had said that Jonah swallowed the whale, I would believe it.”

-William Jennings Bryan

Welcome back!

It would seem that I am not the most consistent blogger, but I do hope those if you enjoy my writing you continue to come back even if it’s few and far between.

Finally I have come around to putting out the second part of my Jonah series. It follows the second chapter of the book, and I find it necessary to point out the framing of this piece. First, there is no setting or introduction. I wanted you in that same headspace from the first part when you start into this. Second, it seems to read quickly. And when you finish it may be easy to think, “that’s it?” I thought the same thing…and I was the one who wrote it. But then I reread what Jonah is saying to God. These are not obvious jumps of thought people. These are issues that people spend years coming to terms with. There is a lot of meat on these bones and it’s important to chew on it.

Lastly, I wrote a small poem to coop this piece and it will come at the end.

Enjoy!

---

A bleak home I had created for myself, I only had time. Time to reflect on an idea: the realization that I cared no longer whether God saved those I hated or not. And further, that the outcome of such events could not be changed by my lack of desire to play a part. All I could do was plead in hopes for an answer.

“Lord I cry to you because of my affliction. You have answered my disobedience. I was enveloped in my depression and pride, in my body and in my mind, but now you envelope me in the belly of t the sea. My heart softens under the pressure of space and time. I have been cast out of the light, out of your sight. But I will seek your face again.”

I was left in a purgative silence. I soon became insensitive to time. It was funny how unimportant the tracking of time became when I could no longer recall when a moment had passed. The problem was that it focused my thoughts. Where was I, and how did I get there?

“The vastness of the world overtook my sensibilities, its pressures were all on me, I could not will myself out of the dark into your light. My heart became polluted with the desires of this world. And the vengeful nature of the world held my will captive. But you Lord, broke past the despair my mind put up against you, and you brought me out of the pit of thoughts I was incarcerated in. When I was ready to leave your presence, you have reminded me of your grandeur. And even now you hear me from this darkness, even in your holy temple.”

I was finding that the reaping that took place was not of my body, but of my desires. What good would doing what I wanted bring me? What would it bring those around me? And it was then that the reason he would not answer took hold of me.

“Those who deem others unworthy of grace, make idols of their salvation. Those who cling to false idols become idols themselves: things worthy of being coveted, but not worthy of love. I have mistaken myself as an idol, making myself Unable to receive the very grace I deny to an entire city. I proclaim my faults to you God, in a new understanding that my imperfection lies in my belief of a perfect birthright. But I am thankful for this lesson, and I sacrifice myself to your will. I will tell the Ninevans you are the source of their salvation.”

---

A Fight for the Real Meaning of Jonah

I fell,
Fell deep into a trance,
One of my soul,
Not of my mind.

My existence,
Only existing in a contemplation,
One of my Creator,
Not of my psyche.

A plead,
All I could offer,
Of his grandeur,
Not of my qualities.

A life,
Damned to darkness,
One of his to appoint,
Not of mine to resuscitate.

“Now you’re looking for the secret… but you won’t find it, because of course you’re not really looking. You don’t really want to know. You want to be fooled. But you wouldn’t clap yet. Because making something disappear isn’t enough…”

-Christopher Priest, The Prestige 

 

A Jonah Series: Phase One, The Wrong Pledge

 

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.”

-Nelson Mandela 

Hi Friends,

I’ve missed writing for you all dearly. It has nearly been a year since I last posted here and that is just too long. I’ve come back to offer an old story, with a fresh view. The story of Jonah. This is phase one of his four-phase journey, and if you like it I hope you will come back for the following phases (if I ever finish them).

NOTE: Before we start, understand I am just a storyteller, not a historian or spiritual leader. If you have a problem with something in my repurposed story, remember that I want to tell an entertaining story not change someone’s beliefs. That being said, I love feedback, good or bad, so feel free to offer any you may have.

---

“Jonah, I have something for you.”

This was how many of my dreams began. His was a voice I knew well; one I loved, one I feared, one I pursued.

“Show me your sight, I have not forgotten your voice father.”

“Awake! Seek the hearts of Nineveh, for they are lost to their sin, and I will pass judgment on them in forty days.”

“Good. The people of that heinous city have avoided your eyes too long, but why give them forty days? It gives space for their hearts to…”

And with that I woke. I cried out for the burden of saving the sinners of Nineveh to be taken from me. I could not reconcile saving Nineveh with my own beliefs. They were an ignorant people whose stupidity and arrogance has murdered entire countries. If people were to learn that I was the sycophant to offer them salvation and forgiveness for their sins, I would forever be blamed for their future atrocities. The weight of that possibility was too heavy for my heart to bear. After hours of weeping, receiving no reply of persuasion from the almighty I AM. I mistook being abandoned by Him and in retaliation I exercised my free will to deny this call on my life.

I left my home to walk into clarity, but instead walked the opposite of Nineveh, toward Jaffa. But, with each step I took my shame grew. I was walking away from God and a more; I was walking away from my purpose in life. My emotions came like waves of the sea. Each intimidating wave crashing into my heart with such intensity as to almost set me back on the path to Nineveh, each emotion submerging me nearly long enough to drown me.

By the time I arrived in Jaffa my spirit broke, and my body was no better. I had only been traveling for a couple days, but it felt as if I had been traveling for years. Grief took over and I no longer listened for God’s voice, his persuasion. I yearned for loneliness, separation from His presence, but it was impossible in the land of my youth. He was everywhere: the people, their life styles, the very soil itself held His blessing. I wanted to leave that city but lacked the strength to. I went to the bay to plead with ship captains to bus me to their destinations. Man after man denied me because I lacked the capital enough to pay for the service. Then I came to a captain on heading to Tarshish, our interaction surprised me. With one comment he placed my heart in perspective.

“What are you running from?”

I realized he could see the misery on my face. He could smell the fear in my desperation. Instead of offering a dignified response that he was mistaken, I haphazardly threw something else out.

“I run from Yahweh, blessed be his name!”

“Ah. We all run from our own Gods. What sin have you offended him with?”

“It’s not sin that causes me to run, but rather a commission he burdens me with.”

“I grieve with you my friend. But what is a man without a God? A bastard of Nineveh!” He let out a buckling laughter and continued, “You should not forsake your God my friend, for all our Gods ask for the impossible from their servants.”

“Do your Gods ask you to forgive and offer salvation to the slavers of Nineveh?”

There was a pause, and he just stared at me. After surrendering another cynical laugh he offered out a hand to me.

“Your God is more arduous than most. Forget the fare, you are welcome to rest yourself to Tarshish. It’s the least I can do for a man who’s God has offered him as a sacrifice to the enemy.

I thanked him for his mercy and took a place below the deck, where exhaustion overtook me and forced an absolute sleep on me.

I dreamt I was in a garden. Its beauty was overwhelming, and my heart was beating with such joy and peace. I could feel the grass at my feet, softer than the finest cotton. I could reach out and touch the leaves on the trees, each a more vibrant green than the last. I approached a pond, clearer than any I had ever seen. Its surface so still it was as if no animal had ever slurped from it. Time was so still. The wonder in my heart flipped to terror at the disorientation brought on from a voice that commanded such power as to crush a mountain into the dust that formed it, or open the sea to reveal the secrets in its darkest depths.

“Jonah, Where are you?”

After the disorientation passed, I realized this mighty voice that could tear a tree from its roots was searching for me. Panic set in and I began to run, as if that would help.

“Jonah, Why do you hide?”

I halted my sprint when revelation came to my thoughts. There was no way I could hide from a voice that created such conviction in me. Then I closed my eyes to prepare for judgment, but nothing came. Moments that felt like eternities passed, but I was too scared to open my eyes and look at what searched for me. When the anticipation reached my fingertips I clenched my fists and called out.

“Here, I am.”

I felt a kick to my side and opened my eyes to find myself in the belly of a ship. I looked up at the source of the kick—the ship’s captain. “Friend how is it you sleep in such a storm? Come, help us dump these boxes before the ship crumbles and we become a secret at the sea floor.”

We brought the cargo above deck where others took it from us to toss into the sea, but the ship continued deteriorating from the waves of the sea. We all went below deck to ride out the storm, and there desperation took over.

They all cried out to their Gods, but that became background noise as I noticed the captain walk to sit with me. “My friend, why is it you sit here alone when faced with your own mortality? Most would yearn for companionship, if not from others, at least from their God.”

“I yearn for deliverance from my God. For I am just a sacrifice to him for others.”

“How do you mean?”

“I know this unfortunate event is due to my betrayal. But repentance isn’t enough to save you and your shipmates. A sacrifice must be made.

“If we must offer a sacrifice for deliverance, that is a small price to pay, and what good will the livestock we transport be, if consumed by the sea?”

“But it is not for you to offer. I must make this sacrifice of my own volition, and the life of your livestock is not what the almighty seeks. He seeks my life.”

“That is not a sacrifice I am willing to make my friend.”

“And how long will you be able to hold those men to the same standard? Even now they cast lots to find who’s God is to blame. Soon they will find the truth. And when I offer myself as the sacrifice, how long then will you be able to hold them before my sacrifice is made?”

“Then I plead with your God in your stead. Why must He send an innocent follower to his death so that others may live? What justice is there in such an act?”

“None, but there is an abundance of grace.”

“My heart aches for your peoples’ birthright. That you must take such a burden upon yourselves.”

“Don’t mistake my argument as unwillingness. For you and your companions I am honored to make the sacrifice. But for the Assyrians of Nineveh, I am unable to reconcile with Adonai.”

At that moment our conversation was interrupted by one of the shipmates. He started with an accusation. “Captain, why do you sit with this Hebrew? It is because of his God that this curse has befallen us.”

The captain stood, placing himself between the man and myself. “Where do these outrageous accusations come from?”

“Captain, we have cast lots to find the cause.”

He looked back at me with confusion in his eyes, but the man continued, “Why do you stand in defense of this stranger?”

Before the captain had the chance to answer I spoke my peace, “You are right my friends, it is Adonai who has brought these things to pass.”

One of the men cried out, “Who is He that has such power over the sea?”

“He is the King of kings, lord of lords, the almighty one who created the seas. With his anger this storm was brought, but throw me to the sea and he will bring a song to calm the waters.”

I hit the water and began to sink like an Assyrian king weighed with his treasures would. I could see the waves above me subsiding, and below was darkness. Terror overtook my mind and I tried reaching for the other side of the water. My struggle was fierce, yet what is the fierceness of a single man against the engulfing waters of the seas? It is as fierce as a lamb in the clutch of a lion. Drowning is more or less as terrifying as I expected, but what I did not expect was the immense pressure on my body. The deeper you sink the tighter the grasp of the water. It was not long before the tension in my head built to the brink of bursting. I was ready to accept my fate, closing my eyes and ceasing any struggle left in me.

In my stillness I felt like I became a part of the sea itself. There was something to the idea of feeling connected to everything around me, it was peaceful and it was enlightening. Though it felt like an eternity, that moment passed, and what took over was a much longer eternity of violent convulsions. Air was what my body needed, but water is all I had to offer, and my body rejected it. My gut writhed as to eject the water from my body, but as soon as it would the water would rush back in. My heart pumped with the intensity of a hammer striking an anvil. My tongue was taken with the current of water that I inhaled and exhaled. There was an incessant tickle behind my eyes and then there was nothing. It all stopped at once. When I was once again able to breathe I knew a reaping had taken place.

---

“Every great magic trick consists of three parts or acts. The first part is called The Pledge. The magician shows you something ordinary: a deck of cards, a bird or a man. He shows you this object. Perhaps he asks you to inspect it to see if it is indeed real, unaltered, normal. But of course… it probably isn’t…”

– Christopher Priest, The Prestige

Closure to the Organ Series: The Thought That Thread The Needle

 

“When you fish for love, bait with your heart, not your brain.”

-Mark Twain

“I like nonsense; it wakes up the brain.”

-Dr. Suess

Welcome to the end of the line. This string of poetry that I have strung you on for months. With this post, “The Organ Series”, will be complete (though, it’s hard for me to say that any of my writing will ever truly be complete).

I want to examine the brain. Yes, I would love to look one over in a laboratory, but that’s not how I mean right now. I want to look into the figurative functions of the brain within our lives. More specifically, how do our brains differ from that of any other life form on this planet, as well how our brains perceive stimuli and if that motivates us.

What is something that is wholly human in its creation? That’s an open-ended question, and quite illogical, which is why the answer must be – logic (also, I try to be cheeky like that). I could cite definitions of logic at you, but the reality is that they all say the same thing: Logic is what we call the attempt at understanding the world around us. More than that, it is the attempt at understanding the truth around us. Now many would argue that a kangaroo can understand the world around it, but would we say that a kangaroo uses logic? Probably not. A kangaroo knows it must eat to survive, but a kangaroo is unable to understand why food keeps it alive. That is logic.

NOTE*: Most would say the above point is actually biology. They are right, and again they would argue that biology is science, and again they would be right. But and interesting point I presuppose is that science is a form of logic. If that assumption offends you because you are scientifically inclined then I am sorry, but semantics is not my fight, I seek the the best way to communicate my thoughts. That being said, this is a lovely argument to have with your own mind, then with someone across the aisle.

So if logic is at least the pursuit of knowledge, then it serves my purpose. Allow me to switch gears (so to speak). If I build a watch, I built it for a reason. Does the watch need consciousness to fulfill its purpose? No. If I give it consciousness, will it stop fulfilling its purpose? No. Now, if my conscious watch comes to me and says, “Look! I now understand why I have arms. They move from one spot to another in order to time how long it takes to do something. That is my purpose in life!” Is that the purpose of my watch? No that would be a stopwatch. Does my watch still fulfill its purpose? Yes. Does it matter to me that it has created a different purpose for its own creation? No. Why? Because it still fulfills its purpose, it still tells me what time it is. And if it didn’t, I would no longer call it a watch, I would make a new watch.

Though logic can help US define the truth we see around us, would a God (Should he/she exist) have any need for it, as the one who created it? No, it only serves to set our own minds at ease, because as Alan Watts says, “We are as waves, or clouds.” We fulfill our purpose every day whether we know it or not, whether we want to or not. This is the argument I took so long to make. And I hope the above paragraph is enough to persuade you why I believe logic is useless to God, and by extension, it is useless in our pursuit to define God.

Now for my next point let’s stick with the watch metaphor.  So my watch comes to me and says, “I have invented something. I can now use my arms to time how long something takes. I call it – The Stopwatch!” Where is the motivation for my watch found?  Was it the need from the outside world to have something that timed the process of an action? Did the inner workings of the watch, that is its cogs and wheels, motivate it to invent? Or was it the battery that never ceases working so that the cogs continue to turn? Or was it something else completely? This is an idea to be hit on later.

For my last point we must define what is meant by the heart and what is meant by the brain. Not so literal, but a bit more figurative. The Brain being the center for logic, the Heart being the center for feelings (I only speak of this because in modern scientific understanding it is obvious that both our emotions and processes of thinking exist within our brains).

When poetry is read what is its appeal? Meaning, who takes to it? Or more substantially, what part of us takes to it? Does it appeal to our Brains: logic centers? Or to our Hearts: feeling centers? I can only speak for myself, but when I read poetry with the desire to tear it apart with logic I often fail. Fail at everything: reading it, understanding it, acknowledging its subtlety and nuance. You may have found the same thing to be true. But when I read it with heart, I am overcome with the emotion of the poetry whether it be extreme joy, anger, or silliness. That is just the point, our Brains are fed by what we observe THROUGH our senses. Our Hearts are fed by what we observe WITHOUT our senses. Which begs the question, is there a sixth sense?

Lets digest and move on.

The below quote should be read and sat on for a moment before reading the final poem. Its essence is the same as that of the poem. It goes along with our theme of this post: Something seems to be missing, and there is no single name for it, but we know it is what drives us.

“Whoever does not miss the Soviet Union has no heart. Whoever wants it back has no brain.”

-Vladimir Putin

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The Heart and Its Deception

And so, the heart wants what it wants.
It is our inspiration,
It is our initiative,
It is our patron,
It is our guide,
It is the paragon.

The heart’s not paragon,
In its innocent desires,
The heart prompts deception.

Then what?
What brings life equilibrium?

Equilibrium comes from,
That which fuels faith,
And what good is faith,
In that which expires?
For when it withers,
Balance is tipped against you.

Why then?
Why oblige inconsequential questions?

Life at equilibrium is an inconsequential paradigm.
The wrestle you have with your question is the paragon.

---

You see, I am of the persuasion that the Heart and the Brain (code words again from before), both seek the same thing – a life at peace with itself. The problem is that when you convince yourself that is the end goal, you miss out on everything else, because everything you do just becomes a means to that end.

This reminds me of an a quote about the Ego, or religiously, a quote about Satan (and I’m paraphrasing), “The biggest trick it ever pulled was making you think it was you.” The moment you admit to yourself that, “your hearts desire” is you, or that the power you have in this world is directly related to the knowledge you have about it, you have been taken over by something that is not inherently you, or inherently true for that matter.

Why do I say this? Because I also understand that strife with ourselves has been hidden in every story of creation that moves forward. Biblically, within the story of Adam and Eve is hidden a fight they have within themselves about whether they should eat the fruit. And that strife is a recurring theme throughout the series of books. Evolutionally, we are multicellular organisms that came into being because of the strife our cells had with bacteria. The reason multicellular organisms came to be is because it was easier to fight off bacteria when groups of cells worked together.

NOTE* This understanding also makes the reality that our stomachs hold loads of bacteria incredibly profound. In order for food to sustain us it requires the internal strife that happens when the bacteria of our stomachs help break down food.

Sustenance and growth does not come FROM peace with one’s self. It comes WITH wrestling against one’s self.

The reason the ten commandments are what they are is because they promote this reaction, strife with ourselves. Why would we love a God or our neighbor more than ourselves? That is strife with what our hearts want and what our brains think (at least until we train our hearts and brains). The reason our bodies work the way they do is to promote this reaction, strife with ourselves. When do our muscles grow? When we push them to their limits and tear them.

Now don’t misunderstand me. I am not calling peace with one’s self evil. I am just saying it should not be the goal. Sustenance and growth should be the goal. Because when we are sustained, and from each level of growth achieved, peace with one’s self is a byproduct.

Think about it. When you are hungry, what makes your stomach feel at peace? Our body requires something to break down in order to feel sustained and at peace. When you are offended by a phrase someone says, what makes you feel at peace? Why they apologize or when you forgive them? When you feel like a failure what makes you feel at peace? Wallowing in self pity or getting out and succeeding at something?

Also do not misunderstand me as saying war is the answer. Read these quotes and you should understand.

“Because one believes in oneself, one doesn’t try to convince others. Because one is content with oneself, one doesn’t need others’ approval. Because one accepts oneself, the whole world accepts him or her.”

-lao Tzu

It is not about your relationship with others it’s about your relationship with yourself.

“Don’t bother to be better than your contemporaries or your predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.”

-William Faulkner 

As we close this Organ Series you must understand something. Nothing I have put into these poems is new. Which is why I have had so many quotes. Many people have said before what I say now, and in much better ways than I say it. This is not about telling the world something it doesn’t already know (even though it may have started that way). This is about communicating it in my voice.

“You have to regard yourself as a cloud, in the flesh, because you see clouds never make mistakes. Did you ever see a cloud that was misshapen? Did you ever see a badly designed wave? Heh, no they always do the right thing! But if you will treat yourself for awhile as a cloud, or wave, and realize that you can’t make a mistake, whatever you do. Because even if you do something that seems to be totally disastrous, it all come out in the wash somehow or other. Then through this capacity you will develop a kind of confidence, and through confidence you will be able to trust your own intuition.”

-Alan Watts

“If we weren’t all crazy, we’d go insane…”

-Jimmy Buffet

The Organ Series: A Word Of Clarity, and A Thought of Destruction.

“If writers wrote as carelessly as some people talk, then adhasdh asdglaseuyt[bn[ pasdlgkhasdfasdf.” 

― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish

“Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.”

-Edgar Allan Poe

Why do we speak? To communicate.

Why do we communicate? To express something:

• A feeling
• A desire
• A need
• A Love
• A Hatred

That’s the easy part. Now how do we speak? I don’t mean how do our mouths form words, I mean, when you structure a sentence in your head, what comes out of your mouth? Does it take the form of a question? or a statement? or a criticism? or a complaint?

Today let’s take a closer look at how we communicate with the world around us. Since it’s the easiest, first think of someone you hate (if that word makes you uncomfortable, then someone who annoys you, or someone you “dislike”). Why does that person irk you? Take a second. Think.

I’m sure that’s all it took. A second to think about how that person is just…the worst. When they talk it’s as if their voice was created to annoy you, Their actions have no sense in them, their attitude is that of a five-year-old child. It could be any number of things, and the reasons can range from a simple annoyance, to sexism, to murder.

Now think of how you speak to them. Are you sweet to them? are you nice to them? What is your tone like? Do you have a happy tone, or do your words come out monotone. Are you short with them (not meaning you shrink around them), are your sentences short? Do you formulate your sentences in a way that they won’t want to answer after hearing it? How aggressive are you? Do you ever find yourself raising your voice, or how about this? Do you ever make a personal comment at someone with an uplifting tone? That’s called being passive aggressive. Or do you ever make belittling comments with the point of making someone think they are inferior? That’s condescending someone (and it doesn’t change just because you have a happy tone).

Now think about someone you love. If you aren’t speechless at the thought of them, how would you talk about them? Would you criticize the ways they show their love for you? Would you get happier the more you speak about them? Now how do you speak to them? Are you more understanding with them? Do you enjoy listening to them? Do you confide in them? Do you speak in ways that uplift them? Do you compliment them? Do you enjoy answering their questions?

That was a lot of questions in two paragraphs, but hopefully they got you thinking. The point I’m getting at is that our speech directly reflects our inward feelings and that can get us in unspeakable trouble! The worst part is that we often don’t even realize the trouble our mouths have gotten us in. It’s key to understand when I say trouble I don’t mean a dramatized version of it like: trouble with the mafia, or trouble with the sharks, or trouble with the police (even though your mouth can get you into that sort of trouble). I’m talking about more realistic troubles as well. Trouble with a friend, trouble with your boss, trouble with your family. A subtle example of this trouble could be something like this:

• How many of your past employers would give you a flying recommendation? Then ask why they would or wouldn’t. Some reasons that may come up may be that you had a good or bad work ethic, or you learned or didn’t learn from your mistakes. But some reasons could also be, how well you spoke to or worked with customers, or how well or poorly you worked with others, respect for leaders or managers, or how about, the level of positivity you brought to your job. Many of these have to do with your communication with other people. And so you must look at your everyday interactions with people. The important thing to understand is that one begets the other. If you get a bad reference it’s because there is evidence of bad examples in these categories, and if you can look at your interactions every day with people and you see negativity, then you can be sure that your reference from that person will also probably be negative.

That was a hard example of how important our mouth is in shaping how people view us. and easier one would be:

• How do you view Donald Trump? What percentage of that view is based off things he has said, or things you have heard he has said?

It has been said before that the mouth is where the brain and the heart are connected. That it is unique because it is what allows people to know the contents of your heart or the contents of your brain. It has been said that the balance of the heart and the brain can only be measured by the mouth. I’ll leave that theory up to you, but if it be true, how drastically does it change the importance of words that you allow to leave your mouth?

Lets change gears now. Warning though, the subject won’t be any easier to swallow. The last organ in the series is the Brain. I have no direction I want you to look with this last poetic dialogue. So read it in whatever mindset you are in, or wish to be in.

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The Heart and The Brain

Why should it matter,
If the heart wants what it wants?
What about the brain?
Does the complex brain,
Not confound the brilliant,
In society?
Does it not sound like,
There is more to the brain than,
The valves of the Heart?

It does…

Then why hear the heart?
Can the body make decisions,
Without brainpower?

It can’t…

Then forget the heart!
Why not trust something that leads,
Through thought and logic?

Because the brain is remote and proud,
It spends too much time with itself,
and only itself.
What good is knowledge and logic, without the drive of love?

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Right of the bat, one thing you may have noticed is that this poem read much faster than most of the others. It may be because it’s a bit shorter, it may also be because it’s just a wee bit more poetic. Unsure as to why I did this, the inquisitive voice speaks in Haiku. And in retrospection of the poem, each Haiku can stand alone.  An argument could be made that I am pointing out the contradictory point of view of logic in this natural world. And so, before our final post in the organ series take a moment to read through these questions. Then take a day to work them over in your head.

• If logic is but a way to understand a universal truth, Then what good is logic to an omniscient being?
• If the brain is the decision maker for body, what is the motivator, is it outside stimulus? Or is it the inside yearning for meaning?
• What is poetry as it relates to the brain? What is poetry as it relates to the heart? Why are those two so different?

“One ought to hold onto one’s heart; for if one lets it go, one soon loses control of the head too.”

-Friedrick Nietzsche 

“Nothing is either right or wrong, but thinking makes it so.”

-William Shakespeare

The Organ Series: A Sight For Sore Eyes, and a Word That Pierces Truth

“Since we cannot change reality, let us change the eyes which see reality.”

-Nikos Kazantzakis 

“Sometimes the eyes say more than the mouth.”

-Unkown

What do you picture when I write eye-patch?

What do you picture when I write black beard?

What do you picture when I write peg leg?

What do you picture when I write hook?

What do you picture when I write parrot?

What did you picture? If you pictured a pirate, then congratulations! Because you have successfully been manipulated. I do this to prove a point. If I can make you see what I want you to see, then why can’t your mind do the same? Now take it a step further: how can you see anything else but what your mind wants you to see? Because even if you were manipulated by me to see a pirate, it’s only because in your mind, those are characteristics of a pirate.

If you can admit to yourself that your eyes only see what is filtered first through your mind, then the question, “Do you see the truth?” gains a whole new perspective. Because now you know that in order to SEE truth you must first KNOW truth.

*NOTE: The metaphoric implications of this comment in different parts of our lives (such as religion) are monumental, but our focus here is more literal.

Now picture a dark tan skinned man with a rather large beard, and a neatly wrapped turban holding his hair firmly to his head. He’s wearing robes and a belt. Tucked into his belt is a small decorative knife. Lastly, around his wrist he is wearing a solid silver ring as a bracelet.

This is where things get fuzzy.

What is that man’s religion?

Some may say he is a Hindu, some may say he is a Muslim, some may say he is a Sikh. Many would say they don’t know, or they don’t want to make the assumption. Those of us who are more forward about our indecision may say you couldn’t know this man’s religion, because that would be a stereotype, or generalization. The reality is this: Which ever religion we believe he follows, based off looking at him, is informed by our knowledge about that religion. That is called perspective (and to each person what they see is their biased truth). The unbiased truth is that this man is a Sikh. This is because of two reasons. First: I set up the exercise, and so set it up for this to be the unbiased truth. Second:  just about each piece of this man’s wardrobe is specifically symbolic of Sikhism

Now in this case alone, there were many different ways to see one thing. But there was only one true way to see it. And if you knew the true religion, it’s only because your mind has been informed about the religion of Sikhism.

Basically I just took forever to explain the idea of perspective, but there is a reason to tear it down like that. The eyes are useful tools to help us live out our lives, but when we are living out our lives based off of what we see, then we have lost all depth to our lives. Because if we only make our decisions based off surface value, then we are gambling with the truth of the matter. As in the above example, the man’s wardrobe CAN inform us on what is actually important: his beliefs, convictions, motivations. BUT  if we lack the proper knowledge to support our sight, then we will naturally be making assumptions. And so the eyes can become blind (in that they are assumptive). This is a very natural occurrence for the imperfect human.

The next, most obvious question is: How do we overcome our naturally assumptive eyes?

Moving into the next part of the series think about how we communicate, why we communicate, and who we communicate with.

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The Heart and The Mouth

It is said too often that, “the heart wants what it wants.”
What about the mouth?
Is something said not more evident than something felt?
Does evidence not seem more edifying than a feeling?

It does…

Can the feelings of the heart clearly communicate,
As the mouth does with language?
Can the heart taste anything but,
The sweetness of love or the Bitterness of hate?

It can’t…

Then why,
Why wait for the enigmatic words of a feeling?
Why hold a feeling inside when you could speak it with your mouth?

Because the heart’s language is universal.
The mouth’s language is jargon, at best.
The mouth lacks control,
It’s lips cannot hold what it’s tongue has to tell.

And what good are words if they only get you in trouble?

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It’s hard to gain the perspective of somebody else. Some of us don’t ever have the capacity to do so, but we do have something to help us. These questions should make you think about how you communicate, and why you are communicating that way:

• When you speak, what often comes out? Statements? Questions? Complaints? Criticisms? Ramblings? Anything?
• Are you properly allocating your your energy by speaking?
• Who do you grace with your words? And who do you attack with your words?

“People will forget what you said, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

-Maya Angelou

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

-Dr. Martin Luter King Jr.

The Organ Series: A Sound That Soothes, and a Light That Blinds

“We have two ears and one mouth so we should listen more than we say.”

-Zeno of Citium 

“The word ‘listen’ contains the same letters as the word ‘silent’.”

-Alfred Brendel

This might just be me, but I find it counterproductive to talk about how to listen. I’m not sure if I have the right to tell you how to be silent. But when I think of writing, I think of words spoken silently into the mind. So lets give it a try.

It’s a question that is often asked in the game, Would you rather, “Deaf or blind?”

I often find myself on the side of being deaf. I could give a huge spiel about why sight is a priority, but that would not be paying proper respect to the importance of sound in our lives. Think of everything that would change without sound:

• communication would be much harder
• you couldn’t gauge things by sound
• you could no longer count on music to motivate you
• nature would forfeit a powerful layer of its beauty

I’m sure there are many others as well. The point is that the world is what we perceive through our five senses, and losing one of them would make the world a fifth less of what it is now.

*NOTE: This brings up an interesting thought. How much larger would the world be if one had a sixth sense? Would it be like an X-Men movie? Would it look like it does in a Shyamalan film? By that I mean, how much more can one experience through that sense than us “ordinary people”. Unfortunately this is not the topic for this post, but I thought I’d offer that nugget as a snack for your mind to munch on.

Lately I’ve been surrounded by a number of ASL communicators. Frankly it’s been quite the experience. I’ve been studying more closely the idea of language. Especially how tone relates to body language. What I’ve looked at to relate the two is Dissonance. Dissonance is created when two tones cause discomfort in the ears. To a deaf man this means nothing, but a deaf man can still feel the same discomfort from what he observes from ones body language. This is because what makes dissonance unpleasant isn’t that the tones disagree with each other. Rather, it’s unpleasant because our trained brains oversimplify their complexity into language. Language is beautiful, it provides communication, but we don’t yet fully understand the vastness of language, and as such, when we hear things that we haven’t heard before, we grow weary of them. That is dissonance. That is something both seen and heard.

This brings me to the next poetic dialogue. As you go into this next poem, think about how the ears relate to the eyes. Don’t be afraid to look at how they contrast either, because there is so much connection and dependence we have in our lives from these four, incredibly sensitive parts of our body.

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The Heart and The Eyes

I guffaw when I see what that the heart wants what it wants.
What about the eyes?
Do they eyes not identify what they see?
Does identification not appear preferable to a feeling?

It does…

Then why sense when you can perceive?
Can the heart detect dangers,
The way eyes spot a pothole in the road?
Can the heart espy malformation,
The way eyes classify a dark alley?

It can’t…

Then why sense when you can perceive?
Why not go where the eyes can see?
To a place where our eyes are pleased?

Because the eyes are shallow,
And perception is preconceived.
They only notice the skin,
The thinnest layer of any being.
They can’t discern the source of a being,
Its muscle, its clockwork, its vitality.

And what good are two eyes destitute of vision?

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Whereas the ears hold much symbolism, the eyes hold too much realism. These questions are aimed to make you take a hard look at your view of the world around you:

• Do the eyes see what you want them to see? Do they see the truth? Do they see anything but your next step?
• How does what you see in the world around you control your actions?
• Would your eyes recognize you, knowing as much as you do about yourself?

“Every man takes the limits of his own field of vision for the limits of the world.”

-Arthur Schopenhauer 

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

-Oscar Wilde

 

The Organ Series: An Offering of Fresh Air, And The Screech of a Harpy.

“I always used to say to myself, I’m going to die of lung cancer. That’s the choice I’m making.”

-Clive Owen

“There’s so much pollution in the air now that if it weren’t for our lungs there’d be no place to put it all.”

-Robert Orben

Making comparisons creates a struggle within us. For some, the struggle is to try to figure out whether the comparison is true. For many others, the struggle is the application of the comparison. And for the competitive ones like me, the struggle is to prove the comparison wrong (sometimes at all costs, even if it’s with another comparison).

That being understood, there are some aesthetically pleasing aspects to a good comparison. One of those aspects is numbers. When we think of numbers we think of math, when we think of math, most of us think of chicken scratches that few understand, but to those who do, these chicken scratches define the natural Universe (to an extent). What we don’t often view math as is, an art that compounds itself into complexity. Complexity, out of which flourishes beauty. But even though most of us don’t think about numbers this way, when I see a comparison like, “My army is better because we have more soldiers,” I accredit that view to a base belief in the above connection. Which is almost beautiful if you extend grace to that overconfidence.

This leads into the next question. What is good leadership? Is it knowing the right thing to do? Is it taking action because of one’s conviction? Is one more admirable than the other?

*NOTE: I don’t pretend to assume that and effective leader comes down to these two traits. I only try to find new words to give a developed understanding to the mantle of leadership. Not to make the burden heavier, rather to thin out the veil.

What good is the knowledge of what to do, without the confidence, or bravery to get it done? And I think we can all point out leaders whose confidence in themselves vastly outweighs their ability to plan for the future.

The last question was more for you. Honestly, it’s poetry, it’s supposed to be abstract, so I don’t really care if you think the word elect was used properly. The real question is what kind of stigma is there behind that word. The connotation may be positive or negative, but the beauty of it is that it depends on your perspective. Maybe even a little on your ability to empathize too.

There is not much else to say about the next poem. Go on, read it, enjoy it.

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The Heart and The Ears

I feel nauseated when I hear, “The heart wants what it wants.”
What about the Ears?
Do they not collect all that their environment has to say?
Does the accumulation of wisdom not sound preferable to the flow of blood?

It does…

Can the heart recognize bad blood,
The way ears can recognize a false prophet?
Can the heart take pleasure from its blood-flow,
The way ears take pleasure from a symphony or lecture?

It can’t…

Then why pay attention to the heart?
Why open for blood when you can open for wisdom?
Why listen for a hulking pressure, rather than beauty and insight?

Because the ears are delicate.
They may hear wisdom, but too often they can’t hear truth.
It fractures their equilibrium, and rattles their harmony.

And what good are two ears in dissension?

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It’s tough to focus the symbolism of the ears. They seem to integrate into so much of our lives. Which brings us to my short questionnaire:

• How many different things in your life are effected by the condition of your ears?
•  Why are our ears so sensitive? Could they have been created to be more sturdy? What would that even look like?
• Is listening a voluntary act? If so, How?

“In seeking truth, you have to get both sides of the story.”

-Walter Cronkite

“The only valid censorship of ideas is the right of people not to listen.”

-Tommy Smothers

 

 

The Organ Series: Holding Your Hand, But Stealing Your Breath.

“Curse false-hand-holding boys.”

-Lauren Myracle, Thirteen

“The surest way to corrupt a youth is to instruct him to hold in higher esteem those who think alike than those who think differently.”

-Friedrick Nietzsche

The best metaphor for possession is the visual of a hand holding the object of importance.

Bear with me for a moment.

What if we never saw this thing we call our hand before? How long would it take to develop an understanding for its use? Moments. And what would be the first thing you would use this new-found tool for? If you think like me, the first thing you would do is grab the object you wanted most.

If you don’t know where I’m making that connection, then take a moment to study the actions of a child. I work with children so I know that it is an instantaneous reaction for a child who sees something they want, to reach for that thing and take it. Whether it’s a baby reaching for a milk bottle, a toddler reaching for a toy, or a teenager reaching for their boyfriend or girlfriend, it’s all the same. It’s natural for us to physically hold the things we want, because in some way, our brains make the connection that if we hold something, we possess it, and if we possess it, we control it. If you’re one of those people who likes to disagree just to disagree (I’m one of those people too), it should be pointed out that this is an evident truth in our society. If you’re religious it’s an obvious depiction of God holding the world in his hands, as to show that he has possession of it and control over it. If you’re not religious, there is a reason why commercials put what is being sold in the hands of a person, it’s to show ownership, and that connection helps you make the decision that, “you too can OWN this object.” And when an advertiser is trying to show freedom, if he is good, he will never put the visual of hands holding anything.

What does this have to do with anything? Well when you understand that this is a natural connection our brains make: holding-to-control. Then you make a giant leap over a single undeniable reality. Your hand is but a tool. Like all other tools it can be separated from your being where it will shrivel up and forfeit the ability to give you possession or control over anything.

So to get back to the point, when you see this, does it not lessen the importance of possessing something? Does it not make the desire for something, that is, the driving force behind wanting something, far more important than just possessing it? Because what good is control over something when you don’t care to do anything with it? What good is a tool when you have no need for it?

Now take it a step further. That tool has no current use, but you still OWN it, so you must lug it around. It actually has become a burden to you because you have to carry it around with you (a.k.a. baggage).

I think about my Father’s business to help me grasp this concept. He is a cabinet maker and as such his job is split between two places. His workshop, and the costumer’s home. This concept can be observed in both places. In his workshop, my Father possesses an arsenal of tools, many of which are put to use every day. But there are many other tools that are less useful. These tools just sit in his workshop, but worse than just not having use, they actually take up space that could easily be used for other, more important tools. When my Father has to install his cabinets, he takes them to the customer’s home. The process of cabinet installation takes time and tools. Some tools are far more useful than others, but regardless, my father has several bags of tools he takes to every installation. The problem with this is that my Father must heave these tools around with him all day. These unused possessions become a burden.

*NOTE: Preparation for the job ahead is another great message hidden within this parable, but that is not the point in this use of the parable, so you can butt out.

Let’s get back to the series. For this poem, I would challenge you to read the inquisitive perspective with conviction. It may help you empathize with that perspective.

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The Heart and The Lungs 

Forget that the heart wants what it wants.
What about the lungs?
Are there not two lungs?
Does two not sound better than one?

It does…

Then why beat when you can breath?
Can the beat of a heart comprehend,
when the air around it is toxic?

It can’t…

But the breath of the lungs can!
Why not serve the lungs,
Who can lead us out of a toxic environment,
To an atmosphere of fresh air?

Because lungs are volitional,
They may know they breathe in smoke,
But they can elect to keep breathing it in.

And what good are two lungs full of tar?

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The obvious parallel to be drawn can be displayed in the present photo, but I’d ask you to study the photo for a moment, just bask in it’s hypocrisy. Envelope yourself in it’s unnecessary setting. Fall in love with it’s parodied sincerity.

If you could relate to any of those ridiculous phrases, you may now start to understand the significance of this series of poems, in comparison to the reality of our bodies and how they create and effect our lives around us.

But now I must get to the question portion of this week’s poetic dialogue:

• Why do numbers seem come into every argument that has to do with comparing the worth of two things?
• What is the proper base for effective leadership, knowledge or action? And how are the two dependent on each other?
• What is the importance of the word ‘elect’ in the second to last line? And why is it, OR why isn’t it the appropriate use for the word.

“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.”

-Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

“Laugh a lot, it clears the lungs.”

-David Hockney

The Organ Series: Filling the Stomach, and Severing the Hand.

“Heat Prickled my cheeks. My palms went clammy. Love is a lot like food poisoning.”

-Suzanne Supplee

It’s hard to compare one feeling to another when you base it off the biological cause for the feeling. But comparisons become easier when you look at the environment required for the biological process to occur. For instance, When you’re sick, there could be a hundred different causes for it, but just about every single one of them involves an immune system that is susceptible to a certain germ or virus. Likewise, no other feeling quite compares to hunger when you understand that hunger pangs are caused by the lining of the stomach literally rubbing up against each other. But when you recognize that the stomach must be empty for it to collapse in on itself, the feeling of hunger becomes far more comparable.

So, when looking at last weeks piece of “prosetry” it is easy to spot the comparison of hunger and desire, but to understand why those two are so comparable is another thing completely. And understanding the why is everything when seeking to empathize with the dominant perspective’s voice. And you must empathize with the dominant perspective in order to create the counter that the supplementary perspective’s voice offers (If I am losing you with the whole perspective and voices thing, just think of the dominant as ‘team stomach’ and the supplementary as ‘team NOT-stomach’).

As we continue to this week’s poetic dialogue, try to apply the above view (on comparisons) to your reading. It may help give shape (as well as relationship) to the dialogue at work.

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The Heart and the Hand 

So what, if the heart wants what it wants.
What about the hand?
Why want what you want — when you can take what you want?
Does that not sound superior?

It does…

Then why yearn when you can seize?
Can the heart hold what it seeks, like a hand grips a steering wheel?

It can’t…

Then what good is it?
Why trust something that can’t hold onto the things it loves?

Because the hand is external,
It reaches outward for its power,
It can be severed from the body,
Because the very thing it holds onto so tightly leaves it so vulnerable.

And what good is a dissociated hand?

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It is worth saying that this ongoing dialogue, while metaphoric, holds pretty cohesively together. As you read more of these poems it may become necessary to go back and gain a retrospective view of previous poems.

As before though, I want to incept some ideas for you to think about for this poem before I unpack it with the next post. So:

• Why is the ability to take something you want, superior to just wanting it?
• What kind of things can we take when we desire them?
• Have you ever found that possessing something (that is having the ability to control something in its entirety) ruins the fun of having it?

 

“Most people who possess life in reality, do not quite understand what they possess.”

-Sunday Adelaja

“Learn to love yourself for you cannot give to others what you do not possess.”

-Jeffrey Fry