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6 Impossible Things Before Breakfast

17 Jan

I too have dreams. Below is a update of a few recently created BeMused by Design graphic designs that mirror that transcendent place:

Bassnectar Live NYE!!

12 Jan

quirky-quarky & topsy-turny

22 Dec

Photons have both inertial and gravitational mass (even though they have zero rest mass) and exhibit all the characteristics of material bodies. Electromagnetism is as material as breath, and an equally incredible candidate for the vital field.

Snake Symbol Significance in Dreams

11 Dec

Jung stated, ‘The idea of transformation and renewal by means of the serpent is a well-substantiated archetype. It is [a] healing [symbol]’ (Jung 7, par. 184)

The Ouroboros, or Snakes as Symbols of Spiritual Growth and Transformation

The ouroboros, the snake forever swallowing its own tail, is a famous alchemical symbol of transformation. Jung saw the ouroboros much like he saw the mandala, as an archetypal template of the psyche symbolizing eternity and the law of endless return. Instead of looking at life as a finite game played between the bookends of birth and death, the ouroboros symbolizes a dynamic state of change and purification.

A literal ouroboros isn’t necessary for a dream to have its symbolic meaning. Since waking life snakes routinely shed their skins, they are ready made symbols for change and transformation. Dreams where snakes shed skin or seeing snake skins in a dream also symbolize change and transformation. Old, outgrown behavioral patterns, relationships, or even careers may be sloughed off in favor of a new skin more appropriate to the dreamer’s growth.

This process of adjustment may not be comfortable. In waking life, snakes get cranky and irritable during the shedding process and the same may be true for the dreamer. All change involves the surrender of the comfortable and even when changes promise progress, trading the known for the unknown involves a disquieting abandonment of the familiar.

Dream Snakes as Fear Symbols

A lack of firsthand experience with snakes makes the serpent a creature representing a fear of the unknown. As such, snake dreams symbolize that unknown fear. The fear can be an intuitive warning or an unfounded anxiety about some undefinable, hidden something awaiting the dreamer in waking life.

Honest analysis of the waking life provides the key to deciphering snake dreams. Pursuing a life dream, especially an untried one, involves fear. It is tantamount that the dreamer considers whether that fear is founded, or if irrational anxiety is threatening the realization of a waking life dream.

Dream Journal [FREE WRITE/ RE-WRITE]

11 Dec

I have been There before in dreams. This Twilight Kingdom exists unbounded to time and space, residing in the immutable framework of what remains when the constructs and illusions of permanence all fall down. The infinite potential of its landscape is an eternal ideology. There exists in perpetual obliquity: There is, independent from the tenants and dwellers, thoughts and ideas,  that There supports.

I am Transient. My lifeline is a current that flows through the creek of a the crease between the layers of a folded world: the realms of Energy and Matter, or more lucidly, the realm of appearances and the realm of the illusion of appearances.

My life struggles to collect cohesive presence in either world all together. Thoughts, behaviors and cognitions can communicate beyond the divide but this has its disadvantages. Every thought falls from beyond the shadow of a doubt. Every feeling feigns an hysteric syndrome of unjustified dismissiveness, leading to sentimental expression weighted with the conviction of a parachute,  fastened to pack a punch in its articulation on the masked backs of thoughts or behaviors in order to cross back into the common reality. Typically, I express my feelings into the common reality using the cognitive-behavior anchor points grounded there. Thus, how I feel makes itself known in the common reality as either pieces of jigsaw logic or hasty, impulsive reactivity. Feelings are more often than not the odd man out left alone in a world outside of time in infinite space.  As a transient, I have gained access to trespass beyond the partisan, corporeal divide.

Here I appear again, as soon as I loop-swoop-disappear from There. What am I? A flippant holographic effect? An illusion? A lucid shoelace? A Pioneer? A purl stitch? Imagination my engine, feelings fuel the timeless travel, and a secret is masked behind the sensation that I am just as alive as a fragment of imagination as I am in this freckled sack of skin and bones.

I have been to this timeless location before, specifically. The dream is recurring with more depth and detail each time. Last night I was aware that I was dreaming: a transient dream and transient state, a Wanderer into a permanent place.

I: Fluxes :: There: Stasis.
I : Time Traveler :: There : Infinite Landscape.

For this reason, my subjection to my fear informed me that I am part of the corporeal, common reality world, simultaneously. There is void of fear. The present absence of fear stands out like silence within a song. I pause and my heart palpates as if it were compassionate for the stillness set in the lack of beat outside of myself, accordingly. The Fearless face There inform me that because I am experiencing fear There because I perceive the contact with one archetype that served as a fear evoking stimulus. My ear would fall deaf to the cry of my fear if my fear realized its own petty perception. If I could activate my 3rd eye to see the invisible presence of the great everything, I would see that the one fearful stimulus is actually everywhere, and all around me.

There was a snake by my foot in the dark, dusk lair of There. I was within the confines of my landlords dilapidated wooden, sunken ship of a broken series of bungalow settlements. There was a snake by my foot and I yelp for my landlords help in fear. He was working on a mast to mask the gusts of harsh winds from breaking an entry in the form of a great howl through the cracks between the wooden panels. He mentioned something about filtering  magnesium and oxides  through the mast (magnesium trapper) that the wind carries. This, he said definitively, is for our own protection.  He laughed at my irrational fear. Look around you, he said. You are surrounded by snakes. I did look, and I was surrounded by an astounding patchwork of piles of coiled snakes. He grins. How dumb to be scared of just one snake, that one snake, he said pointing to my original referent. You see one, fear that one, and are too blind to notice that what you fear is so much greater, the fears lie in piles around you. He said all of this with no fear of his pant leg touching the rattler of a snake. Get over your fear, and you can be free.

With that he vanished, and I awoke.

Dream Journal Free Write

10 Dec

I have been There before in dreams, and I am positive that this Twilight Kingdom exists beyond the relative: I think it exists; therefore it exists. Perhaps There is an archetypal idea, and the infinite potential of its landscape is an eternal ideology. Existing in perpetual obliquity: There is, independent from the tenants and dwellers, thoughts and ideas, There supports.

I am Transient. My lifeline walks the crease between the layers of a folded world: the realms of Energy and Matter, or much lucidly, the realm of appearances and the realm of the illusion of appearances. My life struggles to collect cohesive presence in either world all together. Thoughts, behaviors and cognitions can communicate beyond the divide but this has its disadvantages. Every thought falls from beyond the shadow of a doubt, every feeling feigns an hysteric syndrome of unjustified , leading to sentimental expression weighted with the conviction of a parachute,  fastened to pack a punch in its articulation on the masked backs of thoughts or behaviors in order to cross back into the common reality. Typically, I express my feelings as either intellectualized pieces of jigsaw logic or brewed into a hasty impulsive reaction. Feelings are more often than not the odd man out left alone in a world outside of time in infinite space.  As a transient, I have gained access to trespass beyond the partisan, corporeal divide.


Here again as soon as I loop, swoop pulled out of There: a lucid shoelace, a purl stitch. Imagination my engine, feelings fuel the timeless travel, and a secret is masked behind the sensation that I am just as alive as a fragment of imagination as I am in this freckled sack of skin and bones.


I have been to this timeless location before, specifically. The dream is recurring with more depth and detail each time. Last night I was aware that I was dreaming, a transient dream in a transient state as a transient passerby. For this reason, my feeling of fear informed me I was part of the corporeal, reality world, simultaneously. The people with no fear in this told me it was because I was experiencing contact with one archetype and I would numb to the fear if my fear realized its own petty perception and that the fearful stimulus as all around me. There was a snake by my foot in the dark, duck lair of this dream. I was my landlords dilapidated wooden sunken ship of a broken series of bungalow settlements. There was a snake by my foot and I yelp for my landlords help in fear. He was working on a mast to mask the gusts of harsh wind from breaking an entry in the form of a great howl through the cracks between the wooden panels. He mentioned something about filtering  magnesium and oxides  through the mast (magnesium trapper) that the wind carries. This, he said definitively, is for our own protection.  He laughed at my irrational fear. Look around you he said. You are surrounded by snakes. I did look, and I was surrounded by an astounding patchwork of piles of coiled snakes. He grins. How dumb to be scared of just one snake, that one snake, he said pointing to my original referent. You see one, fear that one, and are too blind to notice that what you fear is so much greater, the fears lie in piles around you. He said all of this with no fear of his pant leg touching the rattler of a snake. Get over your fear, and you can be free.

With that he vanished, and I awoke.

Centrality of Compassion in Human Life and Society

9 Nov

Centrality of Compassion in Human Life and Society

The Dalai Lama recently visited Stanford University and spoke on the centrality of compassion for the future of human society. In this talk he addresses the importance of educating all people about practicing compassion and using the mind to understand the views of others. He talks about his interest in science and how neuroscience is connecting with religion on the importance of mind in relation to holistic health. The Dalai Lama feels that cultivating compassion in the mind should no longer be confined to religion, but needs to be taught in the secular arena and backed up with scientific research. At the end of the talk he answers a number of questions from the audience.

This BuMused kicks it by Old Skool Termz

28 Oct

 

Perplexed by “Nonplussed” and “Bemused”

November 18, 2008

By Ben Zimmer

Yesterday, our “Editorial Emergency” duo of Simon Glickman and Julia Rubiner launched a salvo against a common usage of the word nonplussed, a word they “wager more people get wrong than right.” That opens an interesting can of worms: if a word or phrase used to have Meaning A, but more people now use it with Meaning B, is it time for the Meaning A folks to stand aside?

In the case of nonplussed, the old meaning is “bewildered,” while the new meaning is “unfazed.” Simon and Julia aren’t the only ones bewildered by the change of meaning. Meghan Daum, writing in the Los Angeles Times, was similarly disappointed by Barack Obama’s use of the “unfazed” sense of the word when he said of his daughters’ response to media scrutiny, “I’ve been really happy by how nonplussed they’ve been by the whole thing.” Daum despairs, “Et tu, Obama? It seems so.”

For her L.A. Times piece, Daum consulted with University Pennsylvania linguist Mark Liberman, who ended up posting his response (as well as a follow-up) on the group blog Language Log (where I also contribute). Liberman covers the historical developments well, but commenters on his post, much like those on Simon and Julia’s article, were sharply divided about whether we should simply accept the new meaning of nonplussed as part of our ever-changing language.

A similar case was discussed on Sunday by Jan Freeman in her Boston Globe language column, again involving a term related to Obama. Freeman observes that “a lot of writers have thought bemused was just the right word for Barack Obama’s benign, unruffled presence, especially in the debates with John McCain.” As the Visual Thesaurus wordmap for bemused indicates, the two primary meanings of bemused are “deeply absorbed in thought” or “perplexed by many conflicting situations or statements.” The way that political reporters have used it about Obama, however, is “above it all, with a trace of amusement,” in the words of New York Times deputy news editorPhilip B. Corbett. Corbett adds, “but that’s not what bemused means.” Well, it’s not what the word has historicallymeant, but the newer sense, influenced by amused, has become mainstream enough to enter some dictionaries, including Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate.

So here we have two words that have traditionally meant something like “bewildered” or “perplexed,” but they’ve each veered off in different semantic directions — one towards resolute calmness (nonplussed) and the other towards mild amusement (bemused). How common do these new meanings need to become before they can be accepted as standard and conventional, appropriate for good writing and speaking? In the eyes of the Merriam-Webster lexicographers, the new sense of bemused has already reached that point, but the new sense of nonplussedis not quite there.

Even if these newer senses become enshrined in the major dictionaries, that won’t be much solace to those with a more traditionalist take on language, who would see the semantic drift as mere error. We’re left with words that are difficult to use in either the old or the new way: if you use the traditional meaning, you might confuse those who are unfamiliar with with it, and if you use the newer meaning, you might annoy those who feel that the meaning is wrong. Bryan Garner, in his book Garner’s Modern American Usage, refers to such words as “skunked terms”:

When a word undergoes a marked change from one use to another — a phase that might take ten years or a hundred — it’s likely to be the subject of dispute. Some people (Group 1) insist on the traditional use; others (Group 2) embrace the new use. … A word is most hotly disputed in the middle part of this process: any use of it is likely to distract some readers. The new use seems illiterate to Group 1; the old use seems odd to Group 2. The word has become “skunked.”

“Skunked terms” on Garner’s list include datadecimateeffeteenormityfulsome, and that old usage bugaboo,hopefully. Each of these items has undergone a transformation similar to nonplussed and bemused. Garner’s advice for dealing with skunked terms is one of avoidance: “To the writer or speaker for whom credibility is important, it’s a good idea to avoid distracting any readers or listeners — whether they’re in Group 1 or Group 2.”

What do Group 1-ers and Group 2-ers think? Are these troublesome words best left unused until their meanings become more settled? Should we preserve the old, embrace the new, or attempt to do both?

River Rise [India.Arie]

13 Oct

BeMused by Design

River Rise by India Arie [Testimony Vol.2: Love & Politics]

There was always
A power I could feel
It was guidance to tell me the way to go
But nowadays I feel like can’t hear that voice
I’ve been flying blind
I need you to come and be my eyes. (be my eyes)
River Rise
Carry me back home
(I cannot remember the way)
River rise
Carry me back home
(I surrender today)
I was always
A charmed flower child
I would sit for hours
And listen to the sky
But nowadays I feel like I don’t have that choice
I’ve been looking down in desperation
I need you to be my inspiration yeah
(My inspiration)
River rise
Carry me back home
(I cannot remember the way)
River rise
Carry me back home
(I surrender today)
I bow down
And I humble myself
I can’t do this
Lord I need your help
All the material things
They feel like chains
If you’re not here beside me
You’re the reason I see
(Help me to remember the way)
I surrender
Help me to remember
Only you can show me
(Only you can show me the way)
I surrender
(I surrender today)
You are the only way
Lord, I need you.

Misunderstood, We Are All

22 Aug third_room

We compare ourselves amongst ourselves. Collectively, we perform culture, construct society, and chatter discourses that dialogue ideas concerning ideas. As individuals we are singular creations; however, it takes two to re-create one.

Within communities, we come to understand ourselves through our perception of those around us. Shift the belief or bias about a concrete and lackluster circumstance, or shift the circumstances to agree with a belief or bias: what is life but a capricious oscillation, phases of flexes and stasis, in a dance around a balancing point. The point? Similar to a flower that in essence exists as a rhizome before it appears as matter in the physical world, we exist before we are born and during our time in the world of shapes and forms we grow around obstacles of shade reaching towards the sun in a search for solutions to solutions, navigated by a compass rose directing a quest for questions. The hope is to find the outward thing which we basically are.

I find myself sitting in some unplaced moment behind my eyes. I remove myself because I perceive those around me as united and I am different. The barrier is a two-dimensional wall. I am removed; thus, I regain a locus of control through a reflexive defense mechanism. I remove myself.

Two truths hold simultaneously. We are all the same. I feel as though I am different. My sense of self situates like the dividing line between oil and water. We are one; I am.

I want to suround myself with people and environments that push and inspire me to be a higher me.

When Emily Woke Up Angry

16 Aug e10871a88da0ba117566e110.L

Images from one of my favorite childhood books, When Emily Woke Up Angry, written and illustrated by Riana Duncan in 1989. Yesterday I found this book in the back of a closet, re-read it, and can now see why my mom chose this book for me.

Memories, Dreams, Reflections [Carl Jung]

10 Aug

Memories, Dream, Reflection by Carl Jung and Anne Jaffe took me a good portion of the summer to read from cover to cover. This auto/biography has provided a great deal of meaning and symbolic significance to my personal perspective. I interacted with the text, reading and writing with a pen and highlighter handy; below are a few of many sentences extracted from the book that speak volumes in the space of a few sentences.

As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light of meaning in the darkness of mere being.

***

“Bidden or not bidden, God is present.” Carl Jung, the eminent psychologist, had this quote carved over the front door of his Zurich home, as well as on his tombstone. It is an English translation of the Latin “Vocatus Atque Non Vocatus Deus Aderit”, a quotation he came across when studying Erasmus. The words are said to originate from the reply given by Delphic Oracle to the Spartans when they were planning a war against Athens: “Yes, the Gods will be present, but in what form and to what purpose?”

***

Life has always seemed to me like a plant that lives on its rhizome. Its true life is invisible, hidden in the rhizome. The part that appears above ground lasts only a single summer. Then it withers away an ephemeral apparition.

When we think of the unending growth and decay of life and civilizations, we cannot escape the impression of absolute nullity. Yet I have never lost a sense of something that lives and endures underneath the eternal flux. What we see is the blossom, which passes. The rhizome remains.

***

When people say I am wise, or a sage, I cannot accept it. A man once dipped a hateful of water from a stream. What did that amount to? I am not that stream.

I am at the stream, but I do nothing. Other people are at the same stream, but most of them find they have to do something with it. I do nothing. I never think that I am the one who must see to it that cherries grow on stalks. I stand and behold, admiring what nature can do.

There is a fine old story about a student who came to a rabbi and said, “In the olden days there were men who saw the face of God. Why don’t they any more?” The rabbi replied, “Because nowadays no one can stoop so low”.

One must stoop a little in order to fetch water from the stream.

***

Selective Attention Test

3 Aug

Sense the Invisible

// Well, Do You?

The process of analyzing the results and considering the application of four psychometric tests I took in a life planning course this summer has taken me back to my roots as a young and eager undergraduate psychology major. The video below is a staple in intro to psychology courses, I am sure, but it’s still fun none the less. Watch and see for yourself:

Interested? You are in luck: click on the picture below to visit the home page for this research, book and corresponding videos described in the book. Enjoy 🙂

The Invisible Gorilla

Judgement

2 Aug

Free write to unwind twisted judgment.

The police and neighborhood watch are treating my neighborhood like Gotham City: knocks on the front door, flyers and phone calls, and email with subject line: surveillance have bombarded my house for the past few weeks.  The incoming word, in short: there are sex offenders, lurking, strolling and seeking adult services at a house near you! During my daily walks, I have noticed an increase of adult men walking during all hours. Weather the alerts and my observations are related, who is to know.

I am looping my way home. The time is around 5:30 pm, and the hot sun shines bright lights upon every blade of glass canopys of street lined trees don’t umbrella.  I was thinking about an email I received earlier during the day, an update from neighborhood watch on aforementioned matters. I was feeling unsettled, and trying to sort out why the email made me uncomfortable more so than the content in the email itself. There is a hunt for predators, and because no one knows the faces for sure, all people who match the profile are like lepers walking around here. And here I find what about the email made me uneasy: the assumption that now, educated with the information, I was to assume the same judgment based on others’ fear, profiles, and precautionary, accusatory inductive judgment. I don’t like the logic of inductive judgment. What happened to innocent until proven otherwise? And even the people who are guilty, I do not want to judge: no one person in this world is solely a sex offender, the whole person is immensely more expansive and deep than a legal or behavioral label–not to excuse causing harm, but also, not to assume it and fear it.

My thoughts were interrupted by a man walking alone, a man who I have seen before on these street a handful of time walking alone. I stopped thinking and began observing, as he was a half of a block ahead of me and we held the same pace. His left foot kicked like there was a rock in his shoe, which was counter balanced by an overly weighting swing of a flat palmed right hand. The unbalanced foot and hand were not so much orchestrated like clamor in tandem, but rather, outbursts of  simultaneous idiosyncracies. As we walked down the main road, he would divet into the first few feet of a cross street, walk straight, and then divet out again to the main road sidewalk: a compulsive performance of an illogical formula.

After a few minutes of observing, my old thought string reentered my internal discourse. Sex offenders. I crossed to the other side of the road. I resented myself, loathed myself, judged myself, for every step I took crossing  the street, as my pace was beginning to gain speed on his. I was judging the man for fitting a profile, then avoiding him like being close to him was a potential threat to my well-being. Like we weren’t made from the same stuff. Like we had different values or intentions. And I felt horrible about myself.

Then, it dawned upon me, that perhaps I had not been brainwashed by emails and cautionary flyers, and that I had moved because of my own discomfort for the unbalanced and compulsive nature I observed. Yes. I Intellectualized and explained to myself the reality of my judgment: the swinging right hand out of balance is an ipsolateral connection to the left side of the brain, and combined with his compulsive tendencies, naturally I would assume there is something not right in his left hemisphere, where reason and logic are conscious.

A moment after feeling the relief of resolution, and the unclenching jaw of self ridicule and judgment for profiling, I realized that I had tricked myself with a justification. I had re written my reaction to suit the beliefs and values I’d like to think that I hold always, and consider the cornerstone of my character and integrity. What I really did was move because he fit the profile I had been told to assume was dangerous. Imagine, I thought to myself, if the time and place were different I was told to fear another race instead of a sex offender. The principle would be the same: avoid the other for your safety. And I acted as a precautionary measure. My behavior was a reaction to align itself with my thoughts.

I stood at the front door of my house and sighed. There is no way to know if my judgement was based on anything but my own assumption of others fear, my own profiling, or my own intuitive perceptions and observations. Perhaps a combination of them all. I only can know that I judged and moved further away from another person, and judged myself for that judgment. I wrote this all free write as soon as I stepped inside my home as way to understand myself and avoid any lasting self judgement: I do not want to judge myself or others, and it all begins to blend into understanding when knowledge of self increases with reflection, and I look inwardly with compassion in hopes that the same gaze will look with new fresh eyes out into the world on my next walk.

Her Morning Elegance [Oren Lavie]

28 Jul

Two years ago,  a friend sat me down and played the Her Morning Elegance video by Oren Lavie, posted below. From time to time, this video calls to me; time and time again, I am freshly fascinated with the artistic uniqueness of the video: go to Her Morning Elegance online Gallery to view the video broken apart to its 2096 still frames at http://www.hmegallery.com

Moreover, every time I watch I am surprised with the familiarity of it all–because I do agree with my friend: there is something about this song and video that strangely and profoundly reminds me of myself.

Her Morning Elegance [Oren Lavie] Lyrics

Sun been down for days

A pretty flower in a vase

A slipper by the fireplace

A cello lying in its case

Soon she’s down the stairs

Her morning elegance she wears

The sound of water makes her dream

Awoken by a cloud of steam

She pours a daydream in a cup

A spoon of sugar sweetens up

And She fights for her life

As she puts on her coat

And she fights for her life on the train

She looks at the rain

As it pours

And she fights for her life

As she goes in a store

With a thought she has caught

By a thread

She pays for the bread

And She goes…

Nobody knows

Sun been down for days

A winter melody she plays

The thunder makes her contemplate

She hears a noise behind the gate

Perhaps a letter with a dove

Perhaps a stranger she could love

And She fights for her life

As she puts on her coat

And she fights for her life on the train

She looks at the rain

As it pours

And she fights for her life

As she goes in a store

With a thought she has caught

By a thread

She pays for the bread

And She goes…

Nobody knows

And She fights for her life

As she puts on her coat

And she fights for her life on the train

She looks at the rain

As it pours

And she fights for her life

Where people are pleasently strange

And counting the change

And She goes…

Nobody knows

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