I made a raisin through neglect! In my car!
I was road tripping, and my girlfriend was feeding me grapes. (it sounds romantic but it was actually just a way to save time by cutting out the rest stops for meals.) and she missed my mouth and the grape tumbled somewhere beneath my seat.
Several weeks later, when I finally took all my stuff out of my car, as I was cleaning up, I remembered the grape and went to look for it, fearing a giant mass of blue mold fuzz. instead I found a perfect raisin, tucked away by one of the supporting struts of the front seat.
So in case any of you are wondering how to make raisins, apparently leaving some grapes in your car over the summer with the windows up will do it, even if the grapes are in a dark location.
Now you know.
Monday, November 17, 2014
Sunday, May 4, 2014
Judgments interaction with Non-Judgmental Felt Bodily Sense
It's so clear. Almost immediately, upon switching to feeling my bodily sensations, it is so obvious to me what all the judgments I'm carrying around do to me: they make me sick, they sap my energy...ooo boy, and even now, talking about it, I feel them judging that I'm judging things. God, I can't let my mind on them for a second or them multiply and scurry off in all directions like some sci-fi horror creature.
The Right Tools for the Job
I was scribbling this away furiously in my journal and realized I could and should share it on my blog. So first a bit of repeating myself to myself:
One of my teachers reminded me that I sometimes, when faced with what he calls, 'an opportunity for growth' and what I think of as a recurring pattern of behavior and/or thinking that causes me suffering (they're not really the same thing, his term is more all encompassing and, unlike mine, non-judgmental, but I'll talk about judgment in a moment.) Anyways, faced with those critical points, I often go into circular thinking patters, trying to out-think the problem, when that is not an effective solution.
Sometimes that is an effective solution. I've used my mind to dissect and become aware of, a lot of thinking patterns that weren't serving me. But there were also plenty of blocks that have come up that were stubbornly resistant to that approach. And because that was the only approach I knew about, I ended up collecting them, so eventually the issues that came up were almost all emotional, energetic blocks that were resistant to my current way of trying to deal with them.
It was like I had been using a thorn to remove a thorn that was stuck in me. My thinking removing troublesome thinking patterns (removing is a simplification and fundamentally inaccurate: it was always awareness that led to change: my conscious mind becoming aware of the thinking patterns, and that awareness allowing change to take place. As an analogy, I can't physically 'make' a plant grow by flexing my muscles enough. I can put it in sunlight, and give it water, and it will grow on it's own.)
But with some of these issues, it was more like trying to use a corkscrew to remove a screw. Sounds like it should work, but decidedly ineffective. Maybe if you mess around for long enough and the screw isn't too hard to get to, it will work anyways.
But then I learned a more effective, more free form method for dealing with the emotional side of things. I'm not giving a tutorial here, but in a nutshell, I would just dance around a bit, making grunting sounds or ranting or whatever came out, expressing physically what the feelings were, that were going on in me. It had nothing to do with, "thinking it out," and was wildly more effective with all the emotional blocks that had been piling up on the todo list. I did this extensively for years, until I was clear of the backlog, and then just as needed. I finally had a screwdriver.
However, I now find myself in a similar problem: There are a few big issues that remain, and they remain because I'm confused about how to handle them. I'm trying to figure them out when really they just need to be felt out. That can be easy to miss because the part of me that thinks verbally not only can't deal with it effectively itself, but doesn't know who it should go to, to deal with it. It is my emotional intelligence which recognizes it, and what needs to be done, but that intuitive side of me is non-verbal, and thus the verbal mind can just chatter right over it and drown it out, not even noticing it raising it's hand with an answer. Not even understanding that the feeling I'm getting is a communication saying, "hey there, this is my job, let me take over."
Not only that, but this talk-y part of me has a really hard time letting go. Real control freak. Doesn't even realize he's being a control freak.
In any case.
I am learning.
And the challenge of the week is Judgment. I am super, hyper critical of myself. And, frankly, I'm quite critical of the rest of the world, though I try to keep that to myself, since I know in a general way that putting value judgments on others is unkind and usually inaccurate as well. I can't stop the judgments from happening, but I can at least contain them, like radio-active waste, until I can figure out how to safely dispose of them. But this judgmentalism is impossible for the mind to deal with. If I say, "oh, I'm being judgmental, I should stop that." That in itself has a bitter judgmental air to it. Oh no, I'm doing it again, how bad of me. And thus that cycle continues.
The ability to judge and compare things is an inherent quality of our linear verbal minds, and it's not fundamentally bad, it can be quite useful in getting stuff done. Is this bridge safe enough, is this person trustworthy, is this edible. But when it starts labeling things good and bad, it is usurping the job of our intuitive, non-verbal, feeling intelligence. (I'm grasping for ways to describe this mind here. I suppose you could call it the 'Right Brain' or 'Whole Brain' or something, from pop psychology.)
It is our feelings that value things, and if we let that part of ourselves be in charge of valuing, it will do it's job well. But we get all mixed up with what we've been told, or read or seen from other people. We (I) don't fundamentally trust our feelings to guide us well, and by doing so, we fulfill that prophecy, dulling our communication with that part of ourselves and filing us with all sorts of mixed messages and thus confusion.
In any case. To conclude, the answer lies in simplicity. This whole thing can get endlessly complex. It's amazing how smart our brains can be when we're working to outsmart ourselves. We end up spinning our thinking wheels like a hamster on meth, getting nowhere, trapped in old and painful patterns. And there is no way out, from inside that way of thinking and functioning. You need an entire system shift. And the verbal mind wants to do it all so badly, for most of us. It will try to make the system shift happen, it will try to act like the other system. But it can't.
The only way out is to realize the verbal, 'thinking' mind can't do this. And let it go, let go of trying to 'figure it out,' and use some method to go straight to the feelings. Sometimes I dance around, swearing under my breath, sometimes I just pay attention to the physical sensations of my body. Whatever works for you. It can be tricky, so having someone who knows what they're doing teach you can help. It certainly has with me.
And with that, I end. Time to get out of the verbal mind for a bit.
One of my teachers reminded me that I sometimes, when faced with what he calls, 'an opportunity for growth' and what I think of as a recurring pattern of behavior and/or thinking that causes me suffering (they're not really the same thing, his term is more all encompassing and, unlike mine, non-judgmental, but I'll talk about judgment in a moment.) Anyways, faced with those critical points, I often go into circular thinking patters, trying to out-think the problem, when that is not an effective solution.
Sometimes that is an effective solution. I've used my mind to dissect and become aware of, a lot of thinking patterns that weren't serving me. But there were also plenty of blocks that have come up that were stubbornly resistant to that approach. And because that was the only approach I knew about, I ended up collecting them, so eventually the issues that came up were almost all emotional, energetic blocks that were resistant to my current way of trying to deal with them.
It was like I had been using a thorn to remove a thorn that was stuck in me. My thinking removing troublesome thinking patterns (removing is a simplification and fundamentally inaccurate: it was always awareness that led to change: my conscious mind becoming aware of the thinking patterns, and that awareness allowing change to take place. As an analogy, I can't physically 'make' a plant grow by flexing my muscles enough. I can put it in sunlight, and give it water, and it will grow on it's own.)
But with some of these issues, it was more like trying to use a corkscrew to remove a screw. Sounds like it should work, but decidedly ineffective. Maybe if you mess around for long enough and the screw isn't too hard to get to, it will work anyways.
But then I learned a more effective, more free form method for dealing with the emotional side of things. I'm not giving a tutorial here, but in a nutshell, I would just dance around a bit, making grunting sounds or ranting or whatever came out, expressing physically what the feelings were, that were going on in me. It had nothing to do with, "thinking it out," and was wildly more effective with all the emotional blocks that had been piling up on the todo list. I did this extensively for years, until I was clear of the backlog, and then just as needed. I finally had a screwdriver.
However, I now find myself in a similar problem: There are a few big issues that remain, and they remain because I'm confused about how to handle them. I'm trying to figure them out when really they just need to be felt out. That can be easy to miss because the part of me that thinks verbally not only can't deal with it effectively itself, but doesn't know who it should go to, to deal with it. It is my emotional intelligence which recognizes it, and what needs to be done, but that intuitive side of me is non-verbal, and thus the verbal mind can just chatter right over it and drown it out, not even noticing it raising it's hand with an answer. Not even understanding that the feeling I'm getting is a communication saying, "hey there, this is my job, let me take over."
Not only that, but this talk-y part of me has a really hard time letting go. Real control freak. Doesn't even realize he's being a control freak.
In any case.
I am learning.
And the challenge of the week is Judgment. I am super, hyper critical of myself. And, frankly, I'm quite critical of the rest of the world, though I try to keep that to myself, since I know in a general way that putting value judgments on others is unkind and usually inaccurate as well. I can't stop the judgments from happening, but I can at least contain them, like radio-active waste, until I can figure out how to safely dispose of them. But this judgmentalism is impossible for the mind to deal with. If I say, "oh, I'm being judgmental, I should stop that." That in itself has a bitter judgmental air to it. Oh no, I'm doing it again, how bad of me. And thus that cycle continues.
The ability to judge and compare things is an inherent quality of our linear verbal minds, and it's not fundamentally bad, it can be quite useful in getting stuff done. Is this bridge safe enough, is this person trustworthy, is this edible. But when it starts labeling things good and bad, it is usurping the job of our intuitive, non-verbal, feeling intelligence. (I'm grasping for ways to describe this mind here. I suppose you could call it the 'Right Brain' or 'Whole Brain' or something, from pop psychology.)
It is our feelings that value things, and if we let that part of ourselves be in charge of valuing, it will do it's job well. But we get all mixed up with what we've been told, or read or seen from other people. We (I) don't fundamentally trust our feelings to guide us well, and by doing so, we fulfill that prophecy, dulling our communication with that part of ourselves and filing us with all sorts of mixed messages and thus confusion.
In any case. To conclude, the answer lies in simplicity. This whole thing can get endlessly complex. It's amazing how smart our brains can be when we're working to outsmart ourselves. We end up spinning our thinking wheels like a hamster on meth, getting nowhere, trapped in old and painful patterns. And there is no way out, from inside that way of thinking and functioning. You need an entire system shift. And the verbal mind wants to do it all so badly, for most of us. It will try to make the system shift happen, it will try to act like the other system. But it can't.
The only way out is to realize the verbal, 'thinking' mind can't do this. And let it go, let go of trying to 'figure it out,' and use some method to go straight to the feelings. Sometimes I dance around, swearing under my breath, sometimes I just pay attention to the physical sensations of my body. Whatever works for you. It can be tricky, so having someone who knows what they're doing teach you can help. It certainly has with me.
And with that, I end. Time to get out of the verbal mind for a bit.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
News Blast
So this is going to be quick, because I'm busy as hell, and I don't have internet regularly. But it's been a long time since I've posted, and I want to let people have some idea of what is up with the Iz monster. I mean myself.
So, and most of you know, with two weeks left before blast off, I signed up for the Tom Todoroff Acting Conservatory in New York City. I was accepted, I have been here for... two and a half weeks. It was and is confusing to me, why I am here.
No, that's not accurate. I know why I'm here. It just sounds like madness when I try to explain it so it's easier to just say I don't know. I'm here because I had a taste of the school over the summer for a week, and realized, in a way that would take a long time to articulate, that this was the answer to my prayer for help finding what to do with my life, in a career type, and money making sense. I still don't know how exactly that will play out. It seems like it may involve acting. I knew it involved story-telling. I was pointed towards writing/drawing, but this came a long and it...it just felt so right. I had talents and skills that I have been developing that are applicable. And, the acting we're doing, I love. Like I love the improv dance I've been doing for years now.
So, lets see if I can give a good update in the next fifteen minutes. Because fifteen minutes is all I have. You see, I live in the worst segment of Brooklyn. By district, it has the highest crime rate. But, I live in a nice(ish) part of it. It is 97% black, at an estimate. Most of them are fine people. I have not yet been mugged or killed. I actually feel fairly comfortable that I won't be killed. I just stick to the main streets at try to get home by seven or eight, and not wear anything that looks too nice. Though I doubt being white helps me blend.
I moved into a house that another conservatory student had just found. When I got there, it was chaos. There was weirdness with the realtor, there was weirdness with the landlord, it's a story in it's own right. For a day or two I was wondering if I was going to come back home to our apartment with the locks changed and our stuff out on the curb, rifled through and stolen.
The apartment was not finished. We had one toilet, no washing machine, no gas for the stove, no hot water, no shower, period. With much shouting and gnashing of teeth we got hot water and the planned second toilet, sans toilet seat. In fact, everything was supposed to be done October 1st. The reality is far from this.
Internet was supposed be installed two days ago, the washer and dryer, one day ago. The internet won't be in for at least another week and a half, the washer and dryer who knows. I've come to accept that, though they may be fine people, everyone we are dealing with is full of shit. Exorbitantly full of shit.
There are plenty of genuinely nice people here. And there are lots of terrified people, and lots of people who really don't care about you or humanity in general.
my classes are amazing. It's even worth living in this insane asylum to have the privilege to go to this school. And living with my fellow students is also worth the price of admission. They're highly motivated, and it eggs me on to be more active myself, to great creative effect.
This school is for keeps. Its hard work, its uncomfortable at times, it's a lot of work, it's a lot of new things, it requires an incredible amount of dedication. And it's kicking my ass into great places.
Now if you'll excuse me, my fifteen minutes are up, and I need travel for 40 minutes so I can pick up my laundry and take it to the laundromat before the streets get scary.
Much love from the fast track
-i
So, and most of you know, with two weeks left before blast off, I signed up for the Tom Todoroff Acting Conservatory in New York City. I was accepted, I have been here for... two and a half weeks. It was and is confusing to me, why I am here.
No, that's not accurate. I know why I'm here. It just sounds like madness when I try to explain it so it's easier to just say I don't know. I'm here because I had a taste of the school over the summer for a week, and realized, in a way that would take a long time to articulate, that this was the answer to my prayer for help finding what to do with my life, in a career type, and money making sense. I still don't know how exactly that will play out. It seems like it may involve acting. I knew it involved story-telling. I was pointed towards writing/drawing, but this came a long and it...it just felt so right. I had talents and skills that I have been developing that are applicable. And, the acting we're doing, I love. Like I love the improv dance I've been doing for years now.
So, lets see if I can give a good update in the next fifteen minutes. Because fifteen minutes is all I have. You see, I live in the worst segment of Brooklyn. By district, it has the highest crime rate. But, I live in a nice(ish) part of it. It is 97% black, at an estimate. Most of them are fine people. I have not yet been mugged or killed. I actually feel fairly comfortable that I won't be killed. I just stick to the main streets at try to get home by seven or eight, and not wear anything that looks too nice. Though I doubt being white helps me blend.
I moved into a house that another conservatory student had just found. When I got there, it was chaos. There was weirdness with the realtor, there was weirdness with the landlord, it's a story in it's own right. For a day or two I was wondering if I was going to come back home to our apartment with the locks changed and our stuff out on the curb, rifled through and stolen.
The apartment was not finished. We had one toilet, no washing machine, no gas for the stove, no hot water, no shower, period. With much shouting and gnashing of teeth we got hot water and the planned second toilet, sans toilet seat. In fact, everything was supposed to be done October 1st. The reality is far from this.
Internet was supposed be installed two days ago, the washer and dryer, one day ago. The internet won't be in for at least another week and a half, the washer and dryer who knows. I've come to accept that, though they may be fine people, everyone we are dealing with is full of shit. Exorbitantly full of shit.
There are plenty of genuinely nice people here. And there are lots of terrified people, and lots of people who really don't care about you or humanity in general.
my classes are amazing. It's even worth living in this insane asylum to have the privilege to go to this school. And living with my fellow students is also worth the price of admission. They're highly motivated, and it eggs me on to be more active myself, to great creative effect.
This school is for keeps. Its hard work, its uncomfortable at times, it's a lot of work, it's a lot of new things, it requires an incredible amount of dedication. And it's kicking my ass into great places.
Now if you'll excuse me, my fifteen minutes are up, and I need travel for 40 minutes so I can pick up my laundry and take it to the laundromat before the streets get scary.
Much love from the fast track
-i
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
I would work there
"Hey man, wanna go to the inconvenience store and pick up some beers?"
"Eh. Not really."
"Why not?"
"It's just so far away. And you have to climb those damn library ladders to get to the top shelves. And the fucking store clerk always makes you answer riddles before he'll tell you where anything is."
"Yeah, but he's always got the best stuff."
"Sigh. Alright. Let me go get my hiking boots and flashlight."
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Shit Just Got Real
Wow.
There is a lot of shit going on.
I unfortunately do not have time to adequately cover all the shit that is going down, so it must suffice for now that I say, it is mostly good shit, but crazy, and scary.
I just wanted to check in and let you know I still love you, and will resume regularly scheduled programs once shit gets a little less real.
-I Out
There is a lot of shit going on.
I unfortunately do not have time to adequately cover all the shit that is going down, so it must suffice for now that I say, it is mostly good shit, but crazy, and scary.
I just wanted to check in and let you know I still love you, and will resume regularly scheduled programs once shit gets a little less real.
-I Out
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
The Smells of New York City
I am a connoisseur of fine air. It is one of my favorite consumable substances, and I am extremely sensitive and picky about the quality of air I allow to pass my nostrils- if I can help it.
For example, I just came back from a vacation to the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina. The air at the particular place I was staying was exquisite. Some of the finest air I've ever had. Clean and wet and slightly metallic when the mists rolled in, or on clear days, almost scentless, but with a subtle energy, a substance to them that was so alive and healthy I began to imagine what it must be like for yogi's to live off of air alone, buy chewing and digesting it with special breathing. Almost like a wine taster savoring and sipping and chewing the wine.
And now, the second leg of the journey, New York, New York, is the total opposite. My refined sniffer's sense detects the unsubtle and gorge rising smell of human feces on the steps up and down the subway. As I walk down the street I am befouled with the scent of anaerobic bacteria from garbage, the sickly sweet scent of wet garbage, that makes me want to rinse my nose like it's touched something diseased. Or perhaps if I'm lucky I just get the comparatively mild base smell of New York City, smog, slowly coating my sinuses and lungs in dark grey soot. Of course there are the ubiquitous smokers, and the retched, clawing, choking scent of second hand smoke. And occasional blasts of warm air and fast food or dirty steam from a manhole.
This is one of the reasons I don't see myself ever living in New York.
It is also one of the few ways I admit to being stuck up.
I admit it: I'm an air snob.
But oh god, the pleasure of fresh air, just cleaned by rain and charged with the tang of a thunderstorm. Or the almost erotic breeze, slightly warm and touched with humidity, on a summer night. As long as the air is good, it's a nice thing to really enjoy breathing. But it does have this down side, when you're living in a garbage dump.
That's all I have time for. I must run to my class. I'll talk more about it when I have time, ergo, after the class, and after the next thing I'm doing immediately preceding this class (Gencon.)
It's been a busy vacation.
For example, I just came back from a vacation to the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina. The air at the particular place I was staying was exquisite. Some of the finest air I've ever had. Clean and wet and slightly metallic when the mists rolled in, or on clear days, almost scentless, but with a subtle energy, a substance to them that was so alive and healthy I began to imagine what it must be like for yogi's to live off of air alone, buy chewing and digesting it with special breathing. Almost like a wine taster savoring and sipping and chewing the wine.
And now, the second leg of the journey, New York, New York, is the total opposite. My refined sniffer's sense detects the unsubtle and gorge rising smell of human feces on the steps up and down the subway. As I walk down the street I am befouled with the scent of anaerobic bacteria from garbage, the sickly sweet scent of wet garbage, that makes me want to rinse my nose like it's touched something diseased. Or perhaps if I'm lucky I just get the comparatively mild base smell of New York City, smog, slowly coating my sinuses and lungs in dark grey soot. Of course there are the ubiquitous smokers, and the retched, clawing, choking scent of second hand smoke. And occasional blasts of warm air and fast food or dirty steam from a manhole.
This is one of the reasons I don't see myself ever living in New York.
It is also one of the few ways I admit to being stuck up.
I admit it: I'm an air snob.
But oh god, the pleasure of fresh air, just cleaned by rain and charged with the tang of a thunderstorm. Or the almost erotic breeze, slightly warm and touched with humidity, on a summer night. As long as the air is good, it's a nice thing to really enjoy breathing. But it does have this down side, when you're living in a garbage dump.
That's all I have time for. I must run to my class. I'll talk more about it when I have time, ergo, after the class, and after the next thing I'm doing immediately preceding this class (Gencon.)
It's been a busy vacation.
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