From the Diaries of Leonardo Da Vinci
Among shadows of equal depth those which are nearest to the eye will
look least deep.
Which is making me hmmm and think muchly about the darkness in each person and the flawed nature of humanity, and how we are the most willing to forgive those whom we keep, or want to keep, in our inner spheres of friendship and love. But we’re all rather dark in bits and pieces now, aren’t we?
“When we are unable to find tranquility within ourselves, it is useless to seek it elsewhere.”
- Francois de La Rochefoucauld
I like quotes. Especially by those folks who have last names that I can’t even fathom trying to pronounce.
While sober even.
In terms of personal tranquility: I’m working on that.
Had a session with my Coach yesterday whom I’ve mentioned here before and we went over some things that I’ve had challenges with:
#1: Shielding my emotional state from immediate expression: Both in verbal and non-verbal cues when it’s not completely appropriate
#2: Accepting or Not Accepting feedback and how to respond to this: I don’t need to accept everyone’s criticism at face value. Not everyone is right in their perception of who I am and the work that I do. But sometimes it’s ok to take the feedback so long as it’s with a grain of salt. We all got our things.
#3: Overcoming resistance to change: Both personally and professionally and how to adjust successfully like that to be who I have the opportunity to be which is … A Total Fucking Rawkstar.
PERSPECTIVE.
The shadow or object mirrored in water in motion, that is to say in
small wavelets, will always be larger than the external object
producing it. – Notebooks of Leonardo Da Vinci
In other discussions this evenings:
Conflicts are easier mitigated and resolved when you consider this:
90% of the world has the same value set as you.
It is of goodness, justice, health, and happiness along with success, and to some degree hubris.
Most situations can be resolved and mitigated when you recognize this and understand that folks * do * have the same valueset as yours. They may just rank or prioritize certain values a bit differently than you do. You can come to an accord if you understand this concept and resolve that the overall valueset and goal is above your individual priorities.
And most weenieness (yes, I said weenieness) is just something that requires a tweak in the prioritization. Not an overhaul of the valueset overall. For the 10 % of a different valueset altogether? Fuck ‘em.
Realization:
I’ve lived my life … less in fear of personal failure, and more in fear of disapointing those whom I love and respect.
I am lacking in this type of courage and confidence.
This is… a weakness on my part, to give credit and respect back to those who have invested their affection, confidence and time in me.
If I fail, then there are important things to learn and success in pursuing a challenge.
I’m tumbling back in my head to some words that my college creative writing Prof told me once.
“You’re talented. But you’re lazy. You need to work harder. But you are afraid to. Quit it. Damn it. And revise.”
So sage, she was.
And to quote another source from the dusty attic of childhood memory
From Julie of the Wolves
“When you are afraid, you are doing something wrong. Change what you are doing.”
I fear change. But the notion of staying exactly the same terrifies me moreso.
…
I’ve been spending some of my downtime working on recultivating my inner monologue.
Howdy self voice.
I’ve missed thee.
Meeting with my Coach today occasionally breaks my head.
I’m not used to having so many epiphanies and tough realizations. Especially when coupled with tools and ideas to adjust or improve certain behaviors and situations. It’s weird.
An analogy that came up — that felt… oddly just right.
Maybe, it makes sense if I consider myself a very complicated (or perhaps not so complicated) web page.
There is visually immediate data within the hypertext and then there is the meta data. And only those truly bored or near and dear to me might choose to scour through the source code (and tease me about how ugly some of the innards are in there — ewww tables… — i’m not compliant…but then again have I ever really been?)
I put out how I choose to be received within each environment that I’m in.
And maybe it’s just a CSS stylesheet that determines how I appear to others in different environments: Work, Personal, Family, Romantic, Social, Creative, Political.
But the content’s still me. Right?
That doesn’t change, does it? And it’s accepted and respected by all, isn’t it? So what makes me so ridiculous that I put out the wrong stylesheet for the wrong environment? Project the social stylesheet when with Family to shock? The creative stylesheet at work so I seem like a hippy/slacker in flip flops? The Romantic stylesheet at well…I gotta work on that one anyway because that’s all jacked up…or maybe it just needs more lipstick. Etc. Etc.
Talking with a friend re: the notion of semi-permeable blogging or permission/relationship-based content access has made me wonder if I need to rethink how I live my life IRL vs just here.
It’s a struggle not to be so hyper-reactive or responsive in certain environments. For someone who’s grown up feeling powerless during a lot of her life, the whole notion of not fighting back and accepting things for what they are…for not responding to every thing…is both terrifying and hard as I’ve conditioned myself to a particular behavior. It’s made me into the exact opposite of the “mouse’ which I was while growing up. But going from one extreme to the other and using that as a blanket design in all the environments of my life isn’t appropriate either. What if someone’s reading me on just a mobile device after all?
How much relationship information or personal information needs to be immediately accessible and visible to everyone who crosses my path and why am I so insistant with the notion that everyone love and adore me for all that I am while thrusting my faults and failures to the forefront? That’s not necessary. I can, just, relax after all.
Maybe go to the beach again. I do so love listening to the ocean. I adore listening to rain too. I want to sit in my car as the drops hit the sunroof in a flurry that makes everything new again and clean. This is why I love car washes too, you know.
…
It’s a lot of navel gazing.
And cleaning up some code.
Shadow is diminution of light.
Darkness is absence of light.
Shadow is divided into two kinds, of which the first is called
primary shadow, the second is derived shadow. The primary shadow is
always the basis of the derived shadow.
The edges of the derived shadow are straight lines.
- P 159 of the Notebooks of Leonardo Da Vinci
I frequently find that reading things scientific, when taken out of context, can be rather intriguing as a trigger or an opportunity for meditation and philosophical dissection. Particularly with what I do best in the spheres of navelgazing and metaselfanalysis.
Most recently I’ve acquired a profesional coach.
I know that sounds ridiculoulsy Dilbert-esque. More often than not I’m too snarky for things remotely corporate … and the notion of moi: with a “I will not love you long time” tank top and flip flops worn to work can have profesional coach seems ridiculous. Ludicrous in fact. But it’s true. Coach does not sit by my desk with a microphone shouting in my ear “Type! Type like the WIND!”. Nah, she instead helps me understand things in my life, what I’m doing with it, how certain ingrained behaviors or beliefs carry me forward and which of these experieinces or behaviors might limit me in my life both professionally and personally. It’s been surprisingly illuminary, I must say.
Leonardo reminds me, at this moment, to identify areas on my life as shadow and the lines defining those boundaries. What then is the source of light? How is it refracted and where is my response. Is there really that much shadow? Are those lines really that straight?
What is my light?
What if I am the light?
What if I’m not the light?
I’m way too sober to be thinking like this.
* Little things remind you of home, like: home cooked Korean food, sitting in the basement of a Korean church, the awkward and unapologetic stares from older Korean folks, and well… hearing Korean. (My personal observations from being at a Korean Drycleaners association meeting tonight)
* I love full moons. Especially when they look so large and low and swollen with luminescence. It’s pretty amazing, really.
* Today I made efforts of adultlikehoodness. Conservative silk slate blue blouse, black ankle length a-line skirt. Hair in a bun. Conservative makeup (but with nice lip gloss). Sometimes I wonder if it really is a world of “fake it until you make it.” Meetings, presentations, use of the phrase “Why don’t we sidebar that conversation”.
* WTF. Who is this person? Must drink 2 shots of scotch this evening and some Sailer Jerry Rum to get back my equilibrium.
* I’m getting over my desire to learn how to sprechen ze deutsch.
* Maybe.
* Conversation with a long time friend earlier today made me laugh. COW (Used to mean Crush Of the WEEK) said “You live the kind of life that other people envy and fear. You have a lot to be proud of.”
* Maybe.
* Where’s *my* fucking fan club?
* Oh wait. That’s kind of creepy.
* Got an email today from most excellent and highly talented Bao. He rocks my socks. I am now barefoot.
* In a microcosm of brilliant and talented overachieving rock stars, I am honored to live in these extraordinary times. I am blessed. I hope that with laughter and kindness, that I bring blessings to those I love and hold dear.
* That’s not such a bad thing to hope for.
* Sentimental biyatch, aren’t I? Yeah. You already knew that.
* Maybe.
Funny.
Listening to Buenos Tardes Amigos by Ween does *not* actually help you translate mail pieces for marketing campaigns.
Consider me painfully disappointed.
Now, I concede that I haven’t written a real post in a while. I’ve been a little gunshy.
Bad dreams again of late, I’m afraid. I hate it.
I’ve been taking excerpts from other folks, posting PSAs, and jotting little links that hopefully provide you, dear reader, with some of the insights and interests of what’s awhirl in my life.
Sit down a bit. You may, or may not, depending on your level of indulgence, be here a bit.
I’ve been thinking of late…most animatedly this evening, with regards to my personal reconcilation related to faith and current political passions. They are not divergent.
Two things have sparked a cycle of thought of late.
#1. Obama’s compelling and “audaciously hope” filled speach
#2. DailyKos’s review and statement of Obama’s speech and this particular simple statement
He invoked God in a way that didn’t offend me.
Flashback.
Back in college, my senior year… nigh… two presidential elections ago, I was amidst in a fling.
I had met this man. He was handsome and tall. Charming. Drank real beer, but not too much of it, and had a hearty laugh. His eyes were mocha and warm. His hands confident and sincere. He was fun. I met him a scant month or less before graduation. His last name was Love. Seriously.
One afternoon, in the delight of Michigan springtime, temperate and gentle, while seated on lemon polished hard wood floors we sat on the floor together. The skylight shone a gentle light that made dust float and instantly transform into magic. There was nothing beyond the two of us and the moment. Nothing but his hand in my hair, and his rough chin again my cheek as he laughed. We kissed. Lots.
And as if surprised, himself, by what he would say — the following words spilled absentmindedly from his lips.
“You know? You seem far too intelligent to be Christian.”Within 72 seconds the man was shocked, stunned, and shuffled out the door.
I think I told him “You. Get your stuff. You gotta go. Right now. I’m going to get really mad soon. And it’s best that you leave now before my Mad gets here. Go.”
He thought I was kidding. He laughed, even. That is, until I grabbed his stuff, made him pull up his pants, and shuffled down stairs ahead of him to throw his jacket out on to the porch.
I closed the door behind him and after 25 minutes of him knocking and finally realizing that I was serious, he left.
I don’t claim to be a good Christian and I am a very bad Catholic. And that’s fine because as far as I’ve seen, God’s love doesn’t work on meritocracy.
Two years ago I received a comment in response to one of my posts challenging me on how I can call myself a Christian while being a fag hag.
I responded in length, but the snapshot version is based on two primary tenements which I still hold to today.
#1. Nothing exists unless God wills it exist. God doesn’t make mistakes. Ergo the notion that a God exists that loves a child but could possibly *renig* on that love because that child eventually grows up and identifies themself as homosexual is — well — ludicrous.
#2. Anyone who presumes to judge another in the name of God has an extraordinary amount of arogance to
assume that they have the right to spread hate and exclusionism on behalf of anyone’s name.
Take with a grain of salt that I recognize that I am a spiritual person without being particularly religious. And that I have encountered in my lifetime people that are religious without being spiritual. I have had the fortune of encountering those graced with the amazing capacity of faith and discipline to be both. I’ve also had the fuck annoyed out of me by encountering indivuals bereft of both spirituality and concept or respect of religion.
Living in Sf I’ve grown accustomed to the general vibe that it is extraordinarily counter culture to adhere to traditional faith of any sort of judeo christian norm.
I have issues with our current president. That he invokes that name of God, the same God that I believe in, and uses that to manipulate an emotional response to hasten into a war with imperfect information conflicts me and shames me. That religion should be used as an excuse to demonize another, exclude and divide a nation, or deny two people that love each other the opportunity to be recognized and cherished within their community — infuriates me on a visceral level that I’m unable to articulate.
There are many that I’ve encountered (both in politics and in day to day life) that have made me feel embarrassed for my faith. Those that take religion as an excuse to abuse or to divide, those that use it to judge and belittle, and most of all, to encourage hate in the name of a God who has intended and hoped for nothing more than for us to love one another. Too often have we heard over the last two years, the invokation of God in a way that *does* offend, more often than not. It batters our sensibilities into an identify of the Christian Right and Republican as being stodgy, myopic, stubborn, unyeilding, and very often times very stupid. That individuals are Christian or Republican because they are too idiotic to make their own decisions and need conformity and control and order in their lives.
Faith simply cannot thrive without emotional freedom.
And choice is the profound articulation of free will — which makes us human.
Now, it is naive to believe that a nation can exist where religion and government remain completely sterile and seperate. It’s not human nature. Consider the history of a man in Jerusalem getting nailed to a big stick because an insecure king thought it was fucked up that he should be rumored to be a leader of the Jews. Not to mention the nuances of ardent devotion, study, and faith that inspires folks to tow trucks with their gonads or go to war in the mideast. One way or another, it’s a nut yanking, isn’t it?
Anyways, back to some half assed attempt at a point.
I think that Obama is the first politician that I’ve come across in a very long time that has portrayed a convincing representation of the intelligence, dignity, potential, optimism, and inclusionary sensibilities that makes me feel proud as both an American and as a Christian.
As a progressive Christian, I’d like to see more peeps representing me and my community, my city, my state, and my country that embody his committment and ideals. His speech makes me want to be a better person and a better American.
We all start somewhere.
Is it wrong to desperately want to feel private?
…after living so much of my life online over the past several years, exposing truths and utter frailities, dorkitude, frustrating episodes, moments of whimsy, and disclosures and confessions?
I’ve been feeling vulnerable lately. Not from you, or you, or you lurker. Perhaps it’s you.
Yes. That’s it. That’s exactly it.
It’s you who are that one person that makes me feel beyond uncomfortable.
Both with myself and with the knowledge that you exist out there.
I want to disfigure myself so that I could walk past you without being recognized.
I tremble with the possibility that we might be more similar than different.
It’s you that I hate. And I hate to feel exposed to you.
I don’t want you to know anything about me. You haven’t earned that right.
And what I know of you, I’m horrified by. Completely.
Perhaps there’s more to you than what little I know.
I don’t care to know more.
Really.
But then again.
Do you really exist?
Or are you just a phantom. I still can’t be sure based on the talking shadows against the cave wall. Have I had this discussion for so long that I can no longer tell if I’m warm or cold?
Are you puzzled?
Good.
Perhaps then you’ll become bored and leave me be.
We, the other shadows and I, would much prefer it.
I’m silly, yes this is true.
But a logical person by nature.
And I recognize that these assertions are completely debateable.
Today has been…extraordinary.
#1. Work stuff actually feeling reasonably stress free and manageable
#2. Getting to leave work at a reasonable hour
#3. The most careful and loving note about faith I’ve received in a while. (LK, I’m vain. I know. But damn it, you still love me)
#4. Going to a shwank bar in perhaps the sketchiest part of SF ever.
#5. Being told about blonde hookers in the 80s by an internet luminarie.
#6. A phone call from someone whom I’d never expected to hear from again.
#7. Vietnamese food at Tu Lan where I realize that Julia Child has been drawn with man hands.
#8. Surviving a drive by.
(Well… some punk ass kids with eggs thrown out of their car while driving past me at …oh 45 mph…next time I keep a can of tuna in my car to chuck back. “Take that mutha fucka. What comes first? Egg? or Chicken of the sea?!”). I’m ok. Car is ok.
#9. A heart trembling apology that comes from years/miles past.
#10. Realizing that this has been a… very strange, wonderful, perplexing, exhausting, and overall confusing day. Possibly an indecipherable answer to some of my prayers of late.
Of course the logical person in me can anticipate only one conclusion from all these things coming back around again.
I must be dying.
Something on my mind the last few months that may seem out of character for me based on most of my snarky,cussing,name-in-vain,lefty,shmacktalking bent is…
Well…
I’ve started praying again.
And it feels really really good.
The Notebooks of Leonardo Da Vinci
Page 25
OF THE EYE.
Focus of sight.
If the eye is required to look at an object placed too near to it,
it cannot judge of it well–as happens to a man who tries to see the
tip of his nose. Hence, as a general rule, Nature teaches us that an
object can never be seen perfectly unless the space between it and
the eye is equal, at least, to the length of the face.
Differences of perception by one eye and by both eyes (26-29).
Note to self: When you can’t see clearly, consider that you might be too close to the subject. Of consideration for one’s heart’s meditations.
Stuff – Mostly Unrelated: Most recently I’ve recieved calls from folks I’ve been a bit shy to talk to. A disadvantage from having my cel phone replaced is that I didn’t have their names programmed in to caller ID. I pick up and say “Hi. Oh. Who is this? Oh. I’m sorry.” and it goes something awkward like that.
I like these people, I care very much for them. I’m just not particularly able to talk to them effectively because it’s a call from out of the blue. Blind.
I’m without that split second of recognition that helps me sort through my brain’s thoughts to effectively launch into that conversation, why they must be calling, what answers I have for them, and what questions.
Between that moment of “Hi, and who’s this” I’m set into a mild panic mode. I always forget something. Or feel awkward.
I already feel madly awkward about who I am, and what I have to say. In this most recent week I get a mild case of the sweats with the notion that I’m the dumbest/most awkward and inappropriate person in the room. It’s silly, I know…but it’s the decades of insecurity that occasionally still kick me in the arse.
I’ve done well with that whole notion of “Fake it until you Make it”.
No, that’s not a sexual euphemism.
Gladly.
But it’s … I don’t know.
Talking with a friend of mine the other night, she has this amazing perception of Blogging and successful blogging as being akinto some performance/multidimensional artistic presentations. In terms of developing and projecting a sort of cult of personality. Take Warhol. And P Diddy. How much of them is real art and how much is the art of charisma & PR?
I’m my own publicist. I want to fire my publicist.
Oddly enough, I know who I am and I’m finally getting to the point of really liking that person. And I am afraid that my publicist has projected an ambitious/slightly more amped persona than what is the real me. Or have I transmogrified into something sort of in between.
More thunking on this. I’m sure.
Glass is transparent because it is essentially an extraordinarily slow moving liquid.
Funny how you can make liquid shatter and cut yourself on the palm with it, isn’t it?
That’s like saying your coffee is prone to outbursts of violence and could likely strangle you when you’re not looking.
Also, as discussed with Molly yesterday, I’m not a fan of bugs. I’ll tolerate spiders because they eat other bugs but for the most part, I’d like to avoid them. Zach was helping me usher a moth out of the house. I think I exclaimed that I hated moths because they tend to eat through the italian wool jacket that you earned by giving a blow job to.. oh wait.
Also, the worst type of moth is the unemployed-barrista-moth.
Don’t ask. 3 snifts of scotch into it, I’m not even sure why that was so funny, but it was.
Karma’s a bitch.
Some things you want, and you can’t have.
Some things seem ersatz what you want, and you run away.
****
It makes me feel like I deserve my own poor moods.
The only way I’ve slept anywhere nears well the last few weeks has been a) out of pure exhaustion, b) under medication, c) under use of … half to a full bottle of wine or several sips of scotch.
This will either lead to a) a good though depressing book, b) bodily injury from stumbling towards bed and possibly missing, or c) rampant alcoholism already there.
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