Lilia pt 3

I haven’t heard from Lilia since her sister-in-law visited. I called once or twice to she if she were up for running but got no answer. Today I find out she’s planning to move. Rob told me. I ask why and he says: “She’s violating her rental agreement. Only allows for her and one other person (her teenage daughter). There are three teenage girls living there.” Makes me think someone must have snitched. He goes: “They weren’t obnoxious or anything. Just being teenage girls. Wasn’t their fault. Lilia’s got secrets though.” I’m thinking ..yeah, single mother going through a divorce. Something she confided in me but probably not the rest of the neighborhood. Explains why I haven’t seen her around. Turns out her sister-in-law has two teenage daughters who wanted to spend part of the summer in Santa Barbara. Not uncommon. Hardly warrants a violation. On top of going through a divorce ..re-locating .. starting a new job ..and trying to help her nieces .. she’s got to find someplace else to live. That sucks. I suggest she try holding out as long as she can .. let her nieces enjoy the rest of their summer break.

Story of Eve

“I couldn’t get past the idea that I’d been abandoned. In my mind I was like the victim because I wasn’t able to get him to stay. I seriously believed I was the best I’d ever be ..I was nothing without him. When he left, I felt like a failure ..like I wasn’t good enough ..he wanted someone better. I realize now that he wanted to better himself. Now I’m like, what the fuck ..? Who’s to say I didn’t abandoned him? I get a lot of things wrong.”

Kālī

continued from [here]

I saw Kālī a few more times before she left Santa Barbara. Then I didn’t hear from her at all. I assumed she was getting along OK in Ojai ..composing music ..following the path ..getting clear ..when I received a message. She’d gone much deeper than that. The path was now her home. She was living at an Ashram in Colorado ..immersed in spiritual practice 24 hours a day ..sometimes performing Tantric Yoga until sunrise. Tantric yoga requires a partner ..and she had one. Marco Shapanka is a practicing Hindu and devotee of Sri Ramakrishna. Sri Ramakrishna was a 19th century Bengalese Swami and head of Dakshineswar Kālī Temple. Sri Ramakrishna also had a partner ..Sri Sri Sarada Devi who is considered to be an incarnation of the Goddess Kālī. So, to my astonishment, Serena was not just following Kālī ..she was re-enacting the life of Kālī and her successive incarnations. It felt like I was witnessing the birth of another wave in a cycle that had begun 4,000 years ago.

(to be continued)

Kālī

continued from [here]

Next time I saw Kālī I learned her real name .. Serena. She told me she was a devotee of Sri AnandamayiMa .. a Hindu Saint and incarnation of the Goddess Kālī. In Hindu tradition, the Goddess Kālī is consort to Lord Shiva and together they represent the creative and destructive powers of the Universe. Hearing this struck a chord. I was on a similar path when I was her age. I remembered a piece of music that resonated with me then and brought it with me next time. It resonated with her too. The inside cover has an illustration of the Kālī Yantra .. same as the one tattooed on Serena’s back. Until then I had not paid much attention to the CD illustration. I was paying attention now. Serena explained how the tattoo came to be on her back. Earlier in the year she had an ecstatic experience. She came into direct contact with the spirit of Goddess Kālī [link].

(continued)

Kālī

When I first met Kāli, she told me she was sick of living in the contaminated atmosphere surrounding Southern California. It wasn’t just the air pollution. She felt that way about the food and culture as well. At 20 she was already an established DJ ..specializing in electronic Eastern music. However she was about to stop performing. “I’m tired of playing to a room full of zombies.” She was also looking for a place in Ojai, which she felt was a more healthy community. There she could take time to compose and deepen her commitment to spiritual practice. “Sounds refreshing” I said ..and told her about a Buddhist monastery on a nearby mountaintop where she could go meditate whenever she wanted. “Ohhh, you have no idea how wonderful that sounds right now.” Actually, I thought ..yeah I do. But I just smiled and gave her a hug. I had no doubt she’d find her way. [continued]

Galactic Psymadhi by ॐ Kali Devi ॐ

Rhythm

I wake up in a Pavlov state of anticipation ..wondering what news my iPad will bring. Says: My laptop’s been declared a relic and Paramore’s new album’s a phenomenon. Now I’m sitting back and wondering what information I’m missing but don’t know I’m missing because it’s not in-scope of my RSS feeds. I get into the rhythm of the Internet. Cycles of information ..each one triggering a cycle of reactions. Another wave of anticipation. I take my hands off the keyboard and back away from the computer ..the cycles dissolve. Sometimes I go a week and I don’t even miss it. When I return ..it’s like I never left.

Boundaries

“Teenagers with mental distress come mostly from families near the boundaries between socio-economic classes ..not families who live squarely in one class or another.”   [Center for Disease Control]

This report caught my attention. I grew up in a fairly affluent, upper-middle class neighborhood ..but belonged to an income class that was closer to the bottom of the socio-economic scale. The result of a divorce settlement that kept us in a nice place but with just enough money to eat ..if we stuck with Taco Bell and beef jerky. We basically relied on the charity of sympathetic neighbors to get by. We we’re definitely living near the vicinity of different class boundaries. I was forbidden from hanging out with kids in families from my income class (according to my mom it didn’t reflect well in the neighborhood I was in) while kids in my neighborhood were discouraged from hanging out with me by their parents ..out of fear I'd become another  ‘dependent’. Now I’m not looking to assign blame here or anything. There are more than enough reasons for the ‘distress’ I felt. I was definitely a major contributor. But this article resonates. It wasn’t until I got the hell out of Dodge that my depression cleared. Economic class is a largely unspoken source of discrimination in the U.S.

da Vinci code

zen fortune cookie: I try and act as if everyone is a teacher who has something to offer. I get this from Leonardo da Vinci who once said: “It should not be hard to stop and look into the stains of walls, or ashes of a fire, or clouds, or like places, and, if you consider them well, find really marvelous ideas.” So, I know a writer  at UCSB. Her work is brilliant. Her ideas are fascinating and she’s hell of a lot smarter than me. Yet she’s a terrible speaker. She rambles incoherently and interrupts constantly ..repeating things like “uh, you know” and “like, I mean”  Now I’m not trying to be critical or anything .. it just makes me feel like I want to reach out and help. But I decide against it. I’m no great speaker or writer or anything. So I remind myself to clean up my own speech. Try changing that instead of her.

out of bounds

In the language of the Huron Indians, “orenda” is a word that refers to the spiritual power that resides in all creatures and things. If you’ve got enough of it, you may be able to declare at least partial independence from your own past. You can better shape the life you want rather than being subject to the limitations of karma and conditioning. When I was visiting Santa Cruz a few years ago I met a guy named Charlie. Last time I was there I asked my friends about him. They said he wandered away and moved to a small town at the edge of the Mojave Desert. He liked living at the fringes of space they told me. Gave him a sense of being outside the boundaries of fate. Made me wonder how much orenda that takes.

Romance of the absurd

Writing contest entry:  I was her dance partner after high school football games. Her name was Carol. She was dark-haired and devastating. We’d sit with friends in a circle on the dance floor. When the music started she’d look over at me through those dark bangs, rock her head mischievously, take my hands and pull me up. We danced to rock and roll ..our arms clasped around each other’s neck. Head-to-head she’d look at me with an alluring smile that wouldn’t quit. It persisted while I lay in bed. This has gotta’ be love I felt. I was fifteen. My friends thought I was crazy “You’re way out of her league, bro.” I didn’t care what they said. I figured they were envious.

At the last dance I took a chance and tried to kiss her. She pulled back. I persisted and offered to walk her home. “I’ve got a ride” she replied. My heart sank. At a party that weekend I managed to make-out with someone else. How I haven’t a clue. I was such a nerd. My heart wasn’t into it though. She did manage to leave a bunch of hickies on my neck.

Monday morning I shared a little ganja with friends, spotted Carol across the quad and, feeling no inhibitions, called her. Then I ran through the quad and managed to trip and fall down right in front of her. She helped me up ..looked at my neck and gasped at the marks I had completely forgotten. “Will you go out with me ..?” I blurted out. “You've got to be kidding” she replied. “Let me explain” I said. She went “look at your eyes ..you must be stoned!” Our relationship, as it was, went no further. Football season was over.

Beatrix Kiddo

I take a pleasant 4-mile trek from my house to the Martial Arts and Family Fitness Center where I’ve come to see Jen D take her test for the black belt in Hapkido. I arrive and take a seat beside a mat that covers an entire floor of a large industrial-looking room. About halfway through the adult program .. Jen takes a blow to the solar plexus while sparring that staggers her. She taps-out and leaves the mat where she quickly recovers and returns for the next drill. After an hour and a half of takedown drills and spinning kicks designed to disarm her opponent ..her final feat is a flying sidekick, which you have to be there to believe. She takes a running start to gain forward momentum .. goes airborne over three barrels ..and kicks a board that’s three inches thick with the sole of her right foot .. breaking it in half with a resounding crack. It’s not like she has feet made of steel or anything ..but she’s learned to deliver ‘energy’ - created by her weight and momentum - to the soles of her feet at the exact moment of impact. She passes with flying colors. Her Grandmaster tells her to drop the red belt she’s wearing and then he ceremoniously wraps a black belt around her. Now, Jen conveys feelings mostly through her face, which at this moment is beaming red with ecstasy and a smile so large it lights up the room. 

Jen D aka Beatrix Kiddo

Jason

This morning I go out on the deck to take breakfast and meet someone I don’t think I’ve ever met before. I live off the beaten path and you almost have to know where your going to get here ..so I’m not sure. He’s sitting comfortably with his legs out-stretched looking disarming enough. Mid-twenties, short hair, clean-shaven ..wearing freshly washed Diesel jeans and high-top Nike basketball shoes. He was on his way to stay with his sister and decided to take an alternate route. It narrows into a private road so he ducks into a driveway. The driveway ends at a creek where he sees my deck. His knee hurts so he finds a place to sit. Now he’s apologizing profusely for the intrusion ..and for just about every other word coming out of his mouth. He’s up on his feet but I see he’s favoring the left leg and looks kinda’ disoriented. I invite him to stay and offer him some coffee. He tells me his knee got tweaked in an accident and he was in the hospital. He’s here due to an unfortunate series of events. He lost his job ..lost his apartment ..lost his girlfriend and crashed his truck ..so he walks everywhere he goes. He’s local and I suspect there’s nothing in his background to prepare him for what’s going to happen next. He says his greatest fear is how other people are going to judge him for the situation he’s in. So he keeps walking.

Planet Hollywood

She’s a clear signal appearing in the center of noisy space. Everything else gets pushed to the edges. When she laughs ..she takes command of the place without even trying. I can see people frozen in the distance. Like a deer caught in the headlights ..so am I. When we talk ..her attention is mine. I can feel the warmth of its glow. When she leaves ..there’s a wake in the fabric that the rest of the world falls into. Fortunately there’s a trace or her that persists until next time ..making me feel  more at home on this planet.

Wicked messenger

“Each person is capable of perceiving infinitely more. The universe is funneled through the reducing valve of the brain and nervous system ..what comes out at the other end is a measly trickle.”   The Doors of Perception by Aldous Huxley

I began taking psychoactive substances when I was 14 years old. At first, they gave me a release from the conditioned-fear I was under (living in the custody of a brutal guardian). They made me feel euphoric ..free to fly during rock concerts or while tripping in the desert. After a while however, they started to turn on me. I began receiving a torrent of messages revealing the horror of my circumstances. I felt like a cornered rat. Next they bombarded me with messages telling me what a defective, punk-ass, shit-for-brains adolescent freak I’d become. I felt defeated. However, there was a saving grace. I noticed that these messages went away the next day and I had a choice whether to accept or reject them. I struggled. I chose to study the field of psychology. I wanted to learn more about the nature of this ‘messenger-service’. My senior thesis had to do with the neurological-basis of hallucinogens [ link ]. It helped me understand a little more about the substances I was taking during high school and how they produced the phenomena I experienced. I learned that the ‘indole alkaloids’, which make up mescaline, psilocybin and LSD, work by reducing levels of serotonin in the brain. When this happens, the barriers to sensory-input drop ..and the scope-of-interpretation widens. This accounts for the initial release I experienced ..and the subsequent dread I encountered. Flights of imagination can turn ugly given the freedom to interpret them wildly, and the latitude to plunge my ass into a nightmare abyss. But no matter how euphoric or horrifying, the flight was temporary and I began to accept just how insubstantial mental phenomena can be. I guess that’s why they tell me I’m resilient to depression now. I had an opportunity early in life to experience just what a ‘wicked messenger’ the mind can be.

Zona locale

“Hey, dude ..wusup? wanna’ smoke ..?” My first reaction to this generous offer is to decline, with gratitude. I’m so wrapped up in my workout at the track; it takes a few seconds to realize it’s over! Perfect timing. I circle back and they laugh and light up the bowl for me. Hey, mis compañeros. I’m good. I continue walking down and around to the lower athletic fields ..then up to the schoolyard where two guys are banging on the back door of the gym. As they walk away, a girl strolls up and yells “Kathleen!!” and the door magically opens and in she goes, followed by the guys ..and I’m like cool ..now I know the secret password. I cross the schoolyard, from where I get a view of the ocean ..the same view I get out my bedroom window if I peak ..and realize it’s only a peak because of these trees ..and those bordering Anapamu, which is either a sudden realization or just poor memory for something I already knew. I go down and around the tennis courts and back up the street to my house where my neighbor Amanda asks how my workout went. I go good, but shake my head and say “I think what I do afterwards is counteracting it tho’ ..competing with my system for oxygen ..” which she immediately gets and starts laughing. Now I’m sitting here writing and wondering if I just blew my cover.

Ecology of mind

I’m asking myself why I just spent the entire f**king day trying to figure out something I read this morning in a psych journal [link]. It’s such an esoteric subject I’m wondering how it captured my attention in the first place. They say they’ve discovered where ‘context-dependent’ learning has advantages not found in modern society. Economists and educators consider context-dependent learning an impediment to optimal decision-making. Now psychologists are finding out that it has adaptive value in nature that you don’t see in a classroom or on the trading floor. Context-dependent learning actually helps people make ‘optimal choices’ about which trail to take and what foods to eat in the wild. 

I guess I’ve always been cursed by my own curiosity ..trying to imagine what the world must have been like for our tribal ancestors. Since so much of our evolution took place then, I’m constantly wondering what is native to our lives and what are the inventions of modern society that we weren’t designed for. I’ve been asking these questions since I was ten. Looking back, I see how they unknowingly led me to my field of study in college ..my career choice ..and a lifelong fascination with the findings of neuroscience.

I remember speeding down an LA freeway one morning on my way to college going “we weren’t designed for this ..sitting in transport vehicles rushing over highways elevated far above the savannah that was once our home ..arriving at destinations in a matter of hours where it would have taken them a lifetime .. making decisions at speeds that would have been mind boggling back then.” I often wonder what challenges this presents our psyche that we’re not even aware of. What tasks routinely disturb the balance of homeostasis and cause things like stress, anxiety and hypertension.

For some reason I feel it’s important to know the difference between nature and man-made conventions. Not that I think one is better than the other ..they each come with their own set of consequences. Perhaps it’s the reason I take an ‘ecological perspective’ to events in life, which drives my father crazy. There’s a reason why we’re tuned to the context of information ..it prepares us for the events most likely to occur in nature. Storing and using contextual information has greater ecological value than most economists and educators give it credit for.

The path

One day, during my sophomore year of college, I was on the 605 freeway with a group of friends heading to a club in Long Beach. I’d been studying for a course in neuro-anatomy that day and bits and pieces of the material were still rattling around my head. Then something occurred that I haven’t forgotten since. Like a bolt of lightening, I was struck by the implications of it all. As clear as the traffic outside, I had visions of sensory signals traveling along neuro-pathways ..animating ..registering and guiding us to move to the beat of the music (we were heading to a dance club). I went speechless so long that my friends were asking if everything was OK. I could see it clearly, like it was happening right in front of me ..but I couldn’t put it into words. I responded with a curt “uh, nothing.” For better or worse ..or for whatever reason I may never know ..it altered the course of my life and set me on a path that I’m still on today. It informs almost two-thirds of what I see and do ..while the rest remains a mystery, which is where it’s likely to stay.

Hwy one

Continued from [link]

San Francisco (1977): The next day Russ and I go for a walk around Lake Temescal ..get stoned in a wooded area ..drive across the Bay Bridge ..stash the car ..and go on a walking tour of The City. He shows me how you can get anywhere in San Francisco by using cable cars, muni, taxicabs and the Bart. The next morning we go for a walk around Lake Temescal ..drive across the Bay Bridge ..stash the car .. hang out at the Mark Hopkins hotel and attend the APA convention .. asking irreverent questions at a symposium on juvenile delinquency. The guy sitting next to us is doing his internship at San Quentin. Says he’s counseling an inmate who threw his co-worker off a telephone pole while they were repairing the line. When he asked him why he threw his co-worker off the telephone pole, the inmate replied “..because I didn’t like the way he looked” as if it were a perfectly legitimate reason. “Now I’m on edge” the intern says “..and you wanna’ know why? Not because I’m sitting there talking to a psychopath, but because I’m sitting there wondering what he thinks about the way I look.” 

 

Along the way I remember eating at fish restaurants in North Beach .. giggling while watching a floorshow at Sutter’s Mill ..another one on Broadway .. going to see ‘Beach Blanket Babylon goes Bananas’ at Club Savoy ..and falling in love with San Francisco. A few days later Russ drops me off on highway 101 near the airport and, in spite of his objections ..I begin my hitchhiking expedition back to LA. 

 

Continued ..

Hwy one

Rusty: One of the more memorable events of my life occurred during the summer of 1977, between college and grad school. I rode up to San Francisco with my friend Russ ..then hitchhiked back down the coast, on my own, camping-out along the way. But first we were going to spend a week in San Francisco. Russ is from the Bay area, and since this was my first visit ..he was thrilled about having me there to show around. Our first destination ..as well as where we were going to stay ..was his father’s place in Berkeley. On the way up, Russ told me that he had planted marijuana in the garden during spring, so he was rubbing his hands in anticipation of ‘the harvest’ ..unless his dad had mistakenly ripped them out while weeding (he told me his dad wouldn’t know the difference). This did not turn out to be the case, however ..and we were in for our first surprise. When we arrived, his dad was in the kitchen ..trimming and cleaning freshly dried marijuana like a pro. The aroma hit us the moment we walked through the front door. Stunned, Russ rushes in screaming “Dad, what are you doing ..?!” He shows us the other packages in the freezer and tells us how his girlfriend had turned him on ..and how they found them growing in the backyard ..and how it was helping him with deal with his anxiety (Russ’ dad was an executive for an energy company). Now Russ’ biggest concern is how to divvy up the ‘bounty’ between him and his father ..who was like “Oh, those were yours ..?”

 

Continued [link]

Future shock

During a 70’s era college course in social psychology, we were each given the assignment of predicting possible future events in society and presenting them next time we met. I predicted technology would make fixed workplaces obsolete. I’d be able to do my job while at the beach or in a coffee shop and transmit it over telephone lines to an employer at another beach or coffee shop anywhere around the world. I predicted fixed residences would also become obsolete. I figured if I weren’t tied to a workplace I would become geographically un-tethered. I could travel on motorcycle, or recumbent bicycle across the US and either camp or stay at youth hostels along the way. I predicted the same would be true of relationships ..I would form them as I went. Everyone would. The idea of marriage or monogamy wasn’t in the cards ..and I considered the possibility that they may not even be compatible with who we are as a species. I admit, I got a lot of my ideas from the book ‘future shock’, the ‘whole earth catalog’ and a broken home. I remember the girl sitting beside me going “Man, ain’t no way you got a girlfriend, cuz if you do I sure feel sorry for her..!” However, the guy sitting on the other side was in shock. He looked like ‘preppie’ from the movie Love Story. He started out by saying his forecast was definitely more reality-based than mine ..and went on to talk about marrying his high school sweetheart and making partner at a precedent-setting law firm. Senator Edward Kennedy would be president. Decency and Christianity would prevail ..student protest wouldn’t be tolerated ..we’d win the war in Vietnam ..and defeat communism wherever it appeared. The standard of living would soar in the US ..Monsanto would make life better through advances in chemistry (making me think of Tomorrowland at Disneyland). And they’d live in a Mediterranean-style house in Benedict Canyon where his wife would stay home raising their two and a half children. He got a laugh out of that and for a moment I thought I had misunderstood the assignment. Looking back, I admit ..my ideas may have been offbeat ..but I was only eighteen years old. Now I’m not so sure they were any more or less ‘reality-based’ than preppie’s.