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Archive for the ‘Spirituality/Religion’ Category

A true artist restores your sense of beauty, wonder and awe. Watching the swirling tail of a goldfish glint in sunlit water will do the same. The light speaks to you in a language only your eyes can understand, offering up changes in colors so subtle, yet so distinct if only attended to, that a part of your soul begins to understand secrets heretofore unknown…

A three dimensional painting–yes, painting–by Japanese artist Riusuke Fukahori. (Please see the video below to witness its creation.)

I’ve always loved the way goldfish tails refract light and show you motion in its most delicate nuances, and how the shining orange of their scales looks like no other color anywhere. (It makes me wish for an English word more elegant than “orange” to describe it. “Passion” would be a good choice except it’s already taken.) It’s one of those colors that burns into your retinas, like the red of Sylvia Plath’s Tulips:

The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe

. . .
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.

I remember staring at the lone, red tulips in the backyard of my college farmhouse on summer days while reading Plath, and thinking–yes–they are simply too intense for the eyes to bear. Like the glints of light shining back at you from a goldfish tail through mirrors of water, these colors announce their presence as if characters in the novel of your life.

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My love of goldfish in art began with my first Matisse, torn from the back cover of a Reader’s Digest so I could tape it to my wall. This was one of my first glimpses of Art and the beginning of a lifelong affair:

Henri Matisse, The Goldfish, Hermitage, Saint Petersburg,1910

I spent a lot of time in my room as a teenager, and not always by choice. This gave me a lot of time to consider the goldfish on my wall. I escaped into my art, refusing despair in place of inspiration. To focus on beauty and transcendence became my main motivation–and my revenge. To me the goldfish came to represent the magic hidden in plain sight, and the mystery in everyday life. They became messengers offering solace in their otherworldly color and grace, and their beauty was a reminder that there was more waiting for me in my life than what I could see in that moment around me.

Revenge of the Goldfish, Sandy Skoglund, Installation

For more than twenty years now I’ve felt my heart leap a little every time I see a goldfish depicted in art. (It’s like a delicious secret I share with myself, a love no one knows of but me.)

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Imagine my delight the other day when a friend sent me this video. I’m always amazed by Japanese artistry but seeing this master at work really carved a canyon in my day:

“Goldfish Salvation” Riusuke Fukahori from ICN gallery on Vimeo.

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Inspiration can be such a peculiar and personal thing…where do you find yours?

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I actually started writing. This is frickin’ fantastic.

This past week I decided to “write a novel” as part of the National Novel Writing Month, aka NaNoWriMo. It was kind of a joke. A lark. A ‘what the hell’ kind of proposition. And now here I am writing the darn thing. I wrote 2104 words last night. I am pretty perplexed and awed by this. I am used to writing short fiction–really short, like poetry. I really didn’t think this was possible.

So now here we are. I have discovered that my need for structure lends itself to mystery novels. Apparently I like starting with atmospheres in the form of locations. (Years ago I dreamed of travel writing…is this why?) My intrepid journaling over the past 15 years has developed into a sophisticated form of introspection and psychological awareness that I can adapt into first person narrative. My obsessive, insatiable need to research topics for years will now have a respectable home, instead of squatting indefinitely in my head and taking up prime real estate. After years of banging my head against the wall and wondering ‘why, how, huh?’ about something until I crack the stubborn nut, I can finally explain to people why I stare off into space all the time. In metaphor! Through dialogue! I am starting to suspect the complex world of fiction is the perfect vehicle for sharing the nuance of what I’ve learned.

Some of the questions I’ve asked myself over the years include:

– How is it possible that a woman with a PhD in nanotechnology would leave her fantastic corporate research position to live on a houseboat and become…an astrologer? [That was a real head scratcher, but now I know.]

– If a forged artwork is close enough to the original that no one can tell for sure if it is fake, does it actually matter? And why? [I would say yes.]

-What’s the deal with free jazz? Why would anyone listen to it, never mind be passionate about it? [I’m still working on this one, though I did make some small headway.]

– How on earth do people write long fiction such as novels? [Apparently they just start actually writing them. Who knew?] Where do the characters come from? Just how real are they to the authors? What does it feel like to live in that head space all the time? Is the process really any different from spiritual folk who create personal relationships with their deities?

Looks like I am about to find out. Wish me luck!

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What could you say yes to?


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The first snow arrived and now the melting water drops are playing percussion on my skylight. It’s reminding me of free jazz master Cecil Taylor on piano, when I saw him play one cold winter’s day in Amherst.

Cecil Taylor in a brilliant blur

[Visit Photographer Mary Gaston’s Flicker page  (some rights reserved)]

Free jazz requires you to learn how to listen to it–unless you, like most babies, love it straight away. You have to learn to love it as a wall of sound, or a texture, and let go of expectation from one minute to the next. For me it’s an exercise in zen. It is pure listening, with each moment unique to my ear. It is a physically felt experience, and as different notes and tones hit different pieces of my body, it is as if I were that keyboard with all different keys. From the number of free jazz shows I attended –and dating a DJ, there were quite a few– I’ve learned that they are like a pure exchange of energy from the musician to me. If the man playing is filled with light and has a good heart, as in the case of Cecil Taylor, I feel it. If he is angry, or sad, or stagnated, I feel that. The music fills the room and entrains me to it, and as this musician pours himself out into pure sound, I become immersed in it until I am the same. It is as close as you can get to pure communication.

Try to listen by feel, and watch how Mr. Taylor dances as he plays. I think it makes more sense that way.

Remarkable for a man in his eighties, isn’t he?

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Were you able to let go of the need for continuity and just experience it as it happened?

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Not content with a smiling garden gnome or some crudely carved pumpkins, this guy really took the suburban tradition of lawn art to new levels with his intensely engineered tribute to Tim Burton’s animated classic, ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’.

I thought his daughter running out was part of the show, but apparently it was just a happy accident!

Personally, I have always loved elaborately decorated properties. The highbrow art establishment usually scoffs at yards filled with bathtub altars, goofy ladybug statues and other forms of exuberant tackiness. Unless of course it is in a foreign country, and then of course it is laudable folk art. I have seen more delightfully creative constructions on backwater drives than I ever have in galleries, where so often the tedious idea of ‘what art is’ pretty much sucks the life right out of you.

A lot of lawn art encourages viewer participation.

I love the quirky personalities you see fully expressed in the best lawn art extravaganzas. Look at the beer bottle chapel built by artist Martin Sanchez…right in the middle of his taco restaurant (Martin’s Tio’s Tacos) in Riverside, California!

Martin Sanchez's Beer Bottle Chapel Dome

The beer bottles allow light into the chapel. Hallelujah!

Click here to see a full article about Mr. Sanchez and his chapel/taco restaurant, including the remarkable Jesus and bald eagle mosaic dome above.

http://unusuallife.com/riverside-folk-art-installation/

Interior of Martin Sanchez's Beer Bottle Chapel

Now don’t even get me started on the glories of flamingo art

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Do you feel comfortable letting your freak flag fly, or do you worry about what the neighbors will think?

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The Day of the Dead is something I celebrate a bit earlier than everyone else.

Traditionally for me, it consumes me during the middle week of October.  I’m always a bit agitated. I fall asleep with the lights on. I get restless and stuck at the same time, both introspective and prone to drowning everything out with movie marathons.  I get sad, I take stock of my life, and areas I find wanting really start to piss me off. When I was younger I didn’t understand why six weeks into the semester everything would suddenly fall apart. Finally Halloween would come, and my favorite holiday would always cheer me up. After a while the pattern began to emerge… I wondered why. It became clear one day when my mother mentioned October 20th was the day my father died.

Beneath the Halloween revelry, there is a tradition of communion with those that have passed. The Celtic roots of Halloween, or Samhain, mark it as a time when the veils between the worlds are thin, making it a prime time for divination and communicating with dead family members.

Dios de la Muerte

Mexican Day of the Dead celebrations line the stores of Colorado with cartoon skeletons living life: riding bikes, getting married, getting drunk.  Basically it’s one big party, when the living and the dead dance together all night because their worlds finally intersect. It’s comforting to know I’m not the only one hanging out with ghosts, and it’s more fun to celebrate it as a time of passing than to just sulk in my bedroom.

I love the caricatures of ghoulishness and the way people become who they secretly believe themselves to be, or want to become. A well-chosen costume plays on some element of the personality, drawing it out of the dark and into full glorious view.  Like Batman, we embrace and identify with what terrifies us, and it makes us stronger. Or what inspires us, unnerves us, delights us. To me, it seems the perfect celebration of life.

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For an absolutely jaw dropping collection of Dia de los Muertos art go to: http://eldiadelosmuertos.tumblr.com/

For easier viewing go here: http://eldiadelosmuertos.tumblr.com/archive

(This is where I found these beautiful images.)

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How do you celebrate this time of year? What does it mean to you? Anything?

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I woke up to this text yesterday:

“Cookies! So awesome! You get the good word from kung fu masters and karate masters alike –they were both all, “She should make more.”

It seems Mike got the package of karate master dvds + homemade toll house cookies I sent. They arrived at the last frickin’ minute, just before his office closed due to a burst water pipe. (Huh?!) Just in time to advertise for the seminar. I needed extra packing material…so I included cookies. Little did I know I was about to change the lives of distinguished martial arts masters.

What about you, did you like the cookies I sent you?

My secret recipe, because I am such a classic girl:

Original NESTLÉ® TOLL HOUSE® Chocolate Chip Cookies.

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Wondering what a zen koan is?

Wondering what the heck is the point of a koan?

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Did this picture surprise you? It surprised me. Only…why? If you were to dissect a unicorn, what would you expect to see inside?

I so often see people trashing religion, spirituality and myth as nonsense. Usually the response they get from the opposite side of the fence is a kind of smiling, even sad, shake of the head and the words “you just don’t get it.” Having lived on both sides of this conversation, this former atheist can attest to the truth of this. I see here two separate but equal worldviews, logical mind and mythical mind. (Very roughly equivalent to popular left brain/right brain theories. Apologies to my cringing neuroscientist friends.) Usually one dominates; rarely do they function seamlessly together.

Attempts to bridge the two get ugly. On one hand, you have mythical mind judging its experience by the standards of science and logic. The desire of New Agers to be taken seriously by the scientific community, often accompanied by elaborate and painful discussions of quantum physics, is based on the assumption that for their experience to be true, it must be logical. They misunderstand the role and function of science. The fact of the matter is that science is slow. It is supposed to be. It is careful and precise, trusting that over time truth will emerge. At any given point in time, right now even, we think we understand a lot of things. However, many of these will be reinterpreted later, even proven wrong. The data accumulates, we interpret, we have working theories, and these get trickled down into the common culture.  Right now the New Agers and religious folk are combating an outmoded mechanical view of the universe. And rightfully so…we know this is out of date.  The problem is, we don’t yet know how. On a tangible day to day level, we do not understand the full implications of quantum physics. We won’t, science won’t, for a very long time. Refusing to wait for the solid research results in misguided attempts to explain spiritual experience with abused scientific lingo…also known as pseudoscience.

Why try to hijack and misuse scientific terms to explain things that are simply not (yet) researched, not proven, not scientific at all?  Because for many New Agers, science is still their god. Deep down, they still feel that only science and logical thinking can grant validity. If they truly valued mythical mind and spiritual experience, they would judge it by its own standards instead of  making it into something it is not. Please, leave the discussions of quantum physics to physicists.  There’s no need to devalue your experience just because they haven’t finished  their research yet.

Don’t assume because the unicorn isn’t made of flesh and blood that it does not exist. And don’t get huffy when researchers point out that there is no research to support the existence of unicorn intestines.

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I will continue this discussion in future posts. I think it is very important to understand the erroneous thinking that can result from  unskillful attempts to synthesize these two worldviews. Next I will address the hidden misuse of mythical thinking by atheists. Fun!

In the meantime, be sure to read the interesting conversation taking place in the comments.

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Voila, two robots discuss religion. This is an example of the unhappy marriage of logical and mythical thinking.

Hilarious commentary on the video:

http://gizmodo.com/5835312/two-chatbots-face-off-to-discuss-god-unicorns-and-experience-sexual-tension

Want to buy the t-shirt? I must  admit I am tempted:

http://iamaunicorn.spreadshirt.com/

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