The Corporate Lie

Havener talks about how organizations become no longer viable, and operate as virtual dinosaurs on the playing field of the marketplace once they get trapped in the normative phase. He states bluntly that it is death to the system. He stresses the need for open systems to stay current with the changes of day to day interactions. Using the example of nature one sees how it is a naturally integrative force constantly adapting to its present environment and restructuring to suit these ever-changing developments.

The thrust of the article is why corporations are not able to attract talented people. Corporations are lamenting that they have more ideas than they can implement because they just don’t have the talent needed to make them come alive. That brings a tear to my eye when I think of that. Here I am sitting at a desk, working at a job that allows me to examine the high falootin’ structure of organizations and systems. I am careful not to share this information with the powers that be because I know that they don’t want to hear it. I know that in the past when I brought good ideas to the plate they were shoved under the rug. In various forums as I tried to get the suggestions into the right hands I was met with roadblocks. I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I am expressing myself in situations that are not appropriate to discuss these things. I realized that as an open system thinker I became a threat to the status quo, and needed to be kept in my place. I even went so far as be invited to a closed door meeting to discuss some of these feelings and ideas I had, only to be told “although I can listen to you. I can’t necessarily tell you what you want to hear.” When I challenged what are the incentives we are operating within this organization other than not getting fired, or demoted, I was given an empty smile.

And this brings me to my feelings as a corporate serf which is the Corporate Lie. I really got hot under the collar thinking about this false meritocracy we are handed. I used to read Napoleon Hill’s Think and Grow Rich, and although I do give merit to many of his ideas, there are some things that are just so wrong, and one of the key ones is that if you work hard within the corporate system, you will be rewarded for your efforts. As an actor in the system I have all too often had opposite effects. If you uphold their normative structure, by following their rules, and putting a smiling face, suit and tie, shave your beard, and play the role, only then will you be rewarded by the closed system.

Now we are rolling up into the key points of my thoughts. Here we have what I have dubbed the Corporate Lie. This is the nonsense management feeds you to keep the structure as it is. They don’t want to make the changes needed to keep things alive.

Good Ideas, Bad Results

While online last Friday I stumbled upon a review for a book called, Meaning: The Secret of it All by Cliff Havener, and proceeded to read the first 3 chapters which are available online at www.forseekers.com. The book begins with the following epigraph:

“There was only one catch and that was Catch 22, which specified that a concern for one’s own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind…Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn’t, but if he was sane he had to fly them. If he flew them he was crazy and didn’t have to; but if he didn’t he was sane and had to.” – Joseph Heller

He uses the idea of Catch 22 to unify his ideas around developing good ideas only to become frustrated by the futility of getting people to help make them a reality. The tales he tells would be funny if it were fiction like Catch 22, but it is frightening when you realize they’re real and that they happen in the world of corporate decision makers. He demonstrates how managers in corporations become so bound to the rules and procedures that they lose sight of the original intent. He advises that once a system loses its meaning it breaks down.

Could this be what we are witnessing with the current Facebook privacy debacle? With this not being my point I will leave this question for you to ponder, and rather move on.

What is my point then? My point is about staying current, and in the flow of things, not becoming an archaic machine, a cog in a big system that has lost its identity and purpose. I’m not going to end up there, and I don’t want the people I come into contact to end up there either. We got to pull together, and make sensible choices based on meaning, and ride the fluid ever-changing circumstances with sense, and purpose, if we lose this I am afraid we lose ourselves.

Another striking thing about Havener’s approach is how reluctant he is to use certain words because of their cultural baggage. For example, when he wants to talk about the immaterial aspect of phenomena he settles for “spirit” albeit reluctantly. He details this by investigating some of the connotations in the religious, and metaphysical sphere.

I relate to Havener’s language dilemma, because I often struggle with this. I had a teacher Father Max who would sometimes lug around huge dictionaries to our lesson, and tirelessly define even the simplest terms until he was satisfied we were talking about the same thing. I also see it played out in the writing of Trungpa who brought so many new forms of thought to a vastly different culture than where it started from. He didn’t want to get trapped in closed-view definitions that could lead to grave misinterpretations. This is why he often used terms borrowed from psychology over the religious realms. I found Fabrice Midal does a good job exploring this in the Trungpa biography. Trungpa had a unique ability to apply the poets heart to an in-depth analysis of how the mind works, and how we experience reality.

Transitioning from a goal to a habit

In keeping with the advice of Luna June I am posting here everyday for 3 weeks to create the habit to carry me to the next stage of my writing goals. Consistency is a crucial bridge toward getting things done. Lack of consistency and getting sidetracked is a pattern so easy to fall into, but I can’t be content with a couch potato lifestyle so I must make this leap. My goals as a writer are not entirely defined at this juncture, but my desire is enough to propel me on my journey. The immediate action is what is important and the road opens up from there. It is in the process that all the magic happens. Planning situations is only a starting point, and the movement is what brings it together. I long gave up constantly drumming my head with a steady diet of self-help materials, after they became messengers of self-helplessness. The messages became less and less relevant as I saw the wealth and power games of success touted by the money gurus as lacking what I truly needed. I saw how these same people churn out more and more books, vaguely different from the last one they published, or hardly unique to the other’s in their field. Even the preachers are in the game, with the prosperity doctrine of Joel Osteen and Creflo Dollar. They claim God wants us to prosper, as if God was a capitalist. I am bewildered to think that it is so simple. My heart sees this as hollow.

I can’t tell you what God wants in terms of capitalism, because I don’t see the world in that way. I am a realist, trapped in a real world, with real problems. This is how I think.

I ended up in the realm of Buddhism when I fell in with the Shambhala teachings of Trungpa. I snuck in through the back door. Trungpa’s secular vision rang true to me, after reeling from the top down approach I got growing up Catholic. I needed answers and my Sunday school teacher wasn’t ready to supply them. I fell in love with American Indian thought through Black Elk, and Ishi, but didn’t see many places to turn to learn firsthand these teachings. It seemed the early settlers all but wiped out these noble people, marginalizing their descendants to reservations to be drunks and live off the dole. I know this is an oversimplification but you get the idea. The bottom line is that this Irish kid from the Bronx felt stuck by what the world was offering my hungry soul.

To Be Continued…

Joe Mangrum vs. The Veggie Pride Parade

Today I decided to go to Union Square Park which I resisted coming to yesterday. I am sitting beside Joe Mangrum, as he works. Right now he looks over his work deciding where to go with it. He picks up a large Ziploc full of orange sand and gets down on his padded knees to apply it. The wind is kicking up around me and the people are everywhere. One artist sets up for the day, as the early birds are already well into their day. The time is about 12:30, the sun is beating down and I am caught up in the experience.

Out on the road cabbies block each other out and create dissonant symphonies of honking like angry geese. Joe is working so I leave him alone left to wonder where I fit into all of this. Today in order to exercise my writer’s art I’ve latched onto another artist, one I recognize as already deep in his flow, experiencing mystery.

As people come to see the dance of sand, color, and concrete I see the fascination in their eyes. This is magic in everyday life and many of us are able to see it, vividly. Still reeling from yesterday when a dam broke open from inside me causing energy pour out. I can’t stop it even if I was foolhardy enough to try.

Joe’s look captures a cross between concentration, and the dance with the muse. He wears a brimmed straw hat that protects him from the sun. His arms are darkened from all the time spends being fed by the sun, his art, and the people.

On his back is Mickey Mouse shirt with Mickey in football regalia circa the 1920’s, charging forward with with a stiff-arm, and a smile. I contemplate the rampant consumerism I've grown to identify with Mickey Mouse. As a child Mickey Mouse brought me pure joy, and magic. Now as I've seen how corporations can be corrupted I no longer can look at Mickey Mouse with the same innocence and wonder. Even the term Mickey Mouse has come to mean small and inconsequential, in the usage of expressions like “Don’t give me none of that Mickey Mouse stuff.”

Meanwhile, Joe takes out the maroon sand, the deep color the Tibetans are so fond of. He stops to introduce himself, mentioning his portfolio, art book, and mailing list. He is a professional artist who accepts donations which enable him to travel around NYC and share his work. He began this piece around 11:30 AM and will be at it all day, and into nightfall. The diameter right now is 3-4 feet and the sand painting will grow to 15-20 feet in diameter.

A homeless man just walked past me whom I remember well. I used to say hi to him, but grew tired of always being asked for money. I gave him some money but the act drove me away. That and the fact he never seemed to remember me from visit to visit. It is very common for the people that I meet on the street not to remember from visit to visit.

Now there are five children sitting on the floor around Joe. He continues working on his act of creation, or as Buckminster Fuller would prefer, his act of invention. He circles around getting the kids to give way a little. The crowds increase and I lose my view, only to have it return like the game played between clouds and the sun.

Joe tells the people surrounding him that he is on Facebook and Twitter, that he is available to answer questions, and they can come back as it grows, and becomes more detailed. A woman asks if she can photograph his work, and he says he would appreciate a donation. She freezes as her camera dangles from her neck strap.

Now we move to green and a man with a camera advises that The Veggie Pride Parade is about to come right through here. Joe says “No it’s not.” and flashes his smile. At this point we are surrounded. A woman allows her scarf to lightly brush the newly created maroon lines. A baby carriage comes awfully close.

Joe exclaims, “Carrot Power.”, and wakes the very baby that moments ago the onlooking mom told me not to wake. Joe looks at the newly woken baby and smiles saying, “You like carrots don’t you?”

A woman dressed as a cow walks by. Joe asks the Veggie paraders to drop a dollar in his bag as they go. Here comes the Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary banners and I think of my creative cohort Norm Robot who did video work for them. A young girl gives me a flyer for the Catskill Animal Sanctuary in Saugerties. A man with an anarchist’s bandanna covering his face hangs with the pack, and I wonder if he is in costume, or if he really needs to hide his identity.

A woman with a torch and a fruit basket crown takes photographs. Another cow, this one with googly eyes stands by the sand painting to be photographed. Kids play right beside me, and mama tells her son whose name sounds like Matisse that he has only a minute left before they go play.

Joe applies the deep cerulean blue over the sky-blue, highlighting both sides. Matisse who only had a minute whines to his mom that he wants to go. I begin to wonder how many people have stepped all over Joe’s work. And decide when I actually talk to him I will ask.

The crowds have left and I hear the veggie people congregated out in the distance. They seem a bit excited, but it is not entirely convincing. The rush hour has left, as the parade settles down. I take a moment to appreciate the clouds, taking them in. I notice how important it is to Joe’s work to block out his space.

Joe asks me what I’m writing and I tell him a little bit of this-pointing to his work, and a little bit of that-pointing to everything else. I remind him that we already met. He says it is hard for him to get to know new people. I remark this is why I give him space. Inside I acknowledge to myself, “I know exactly what you mean.”

He tells me about what he calls the Zombie Hour when after work people on their commute home, so caught up in their cell phones, and texting will walk right into his work. He makes a crazy face to demonstrate to me how oblivious people can be. He says a step won’t do much damage, but a shuffle can really cause mayhem. He also recounts how it is better to just let them keep going once they have entered the piece because in a state of panic they only mess it up more. There is a metaphor here but I am not going to head there.

I told him that yesterday I wrote indoors, and today I am doing it out here. I tell him that I saw his tweet and came out to soak up some of his artistic energy to fuse with my thoughts.

Our conversation ends and I go back to my notebook. I got the idea to write in public from reading the work of Julia Cameron and Natalie Goldberg where they suggest leaving the house, going into cafes, beaches, parks, and wherever else. The textures of thought change as the spaces the writer inhabits change as well. I am here testing out their theories.

The orange is now taking its place bordering both sides of the maroon, as I notice a maroon sweatshirt in the crowd with patterns not so different than Joe’s work. I wonder if this person even notices the connection. Earlier Joe commented that he really likes this one, and I agree. I wonder if I could even tell the difference between his best work, and a run of the mill offering.

Now he covers the green with the sky blue, and circles the work completing the rotation. In my head the song Disco Ball, Spin Around, Spin Around from Saucy Monky plays. An old man says with amazement to his companions, “It’s so perfectly symmetrical.” A young man oblivious is halted seconds before he slams headlong into one of the edges of the work. Luckily Joe is standing right there and is able to stop him. He flashes his patented smile, and I think how patient you must have to be to work with sand.

I stand up and say, “I’ll catch you later Joe.”

Joe smiles and replies, “I heard that before. It’s just that people snap a picture, and then they’re gone.” He is referring to the part of his introduction he just ran through where he says he would appreciate a donation if you take a picture. Caught up in the moment I don’t realize until later this is his office and he needs financial support in order to keep volunteering to come to work everyday.

I am home now and will go back later after I post this piece because not only do I want to see the work further along but also because I owe this hard-working Joe a couple of bucks.

Wikipedia Entry: Joe Mangrum

Video from Ovation TV: SandmanNYC

Are you ready to begin with me?

Yesterday I stepped out on the edge of the pier not to jump off, but to look. I wanted to see something out here in the wide open, and strangely enough it didn’t require me physically to go anywhere at all. I thought maybe I needed to escape from my four wall asylum, but then I realized I had no place to go. The idea of sitting in a park, or wandering around the city felt like it wasn’t going to fill the form for me. I knew the walls that I was climbing were not necessarily the walls of my small Brooklyn apartment, but rather these were the walls I built inside my head. I also knew that time on the cushion could provide an answer to my unsettled nature, but my mind/body wouldn’t bring me there. The words needed a place to rest that wasn’t jumbled in my brain. It is like weary travelers that can’t stretch their legs. Nobody wants to be buried alive, heaped in thoughts, and shackled to wanting more. Accepting things as they are only seems to work when it is paired with insightful action. My pen needed to do some walking, or in this case, my fingers had to do some key-tapping, and this is exactly what went down.

My mind let the thoughts rush out like a waterfall, not worried if they made sense, not caring how they were going to be received. I knew that if the discomfort I was feeling was going to be dealt with then it was going to happen in the breeze of words. I got my get out of jail free card, and it felt like a wind of joy rushing over me, through me. Now a day later I am still basking in that glow. I saw something, even if it is brief, and transitory, I know I glimpsed it. That tricky bugger of realization showed me its face, before it quickly recessed back into the forest to be rediscovered on another bright and shiny day when frustration turns itself around, becoming the opposite of itself. In The Kybalion it talks about the pendulum swing of polarities, and how in any extreme, one can quickly turn the situation on its head, and access its opposite equivalent. In some ways I have always been applying such work with polarities by turning frustration and disappointment into wisdom and joy on the spot. This is what happened for me yesterday, developing out of a natural progression of being there and doing what feels right. Stepping into the flow is such a powerful act, and can’t be faked. You got to really do it. In the flow I rest as Lovenunrg said with “May you flow” in her comment. Between the encouragements of her, Luna June, Jack Daw 41 and Tom Y. Howe I felt supported. Then when my girlfriend Cinde came home I shared my experiences, and she seemed really excited.

Part of me fears falling into the trap of ego, by arriving on my high horse proclaiming greatness, and shouting about some small victory as if it is so important. As Jack Daw said in his comment, it really shows you with perspective how small things can appear like big things. As I recount this tale of my scraping out of a self-imposed jail I think of the tender quality needed to allow oneself to activate, and be the genuine article. What comes to mind is a brief conversation with Duff McDuffee on twitter where he mentioned the cultural constraints of authenticity, and how when society tells you to be yourself, it creates a paradox of seeking acceptance while attempting to remain true to yourself. I thought to myself real authenticity trumps the cards played by society. I shouted no, we don’t have to be stuck in their game, trapped in the clutches of conditioning, forced to rely on old thoughts, and be stuck with the wants and desires of our culture. I thought of absolute realities that go deeper, and speak of authenticity that doesn’t come from a book or some expert. No, this has to come in another way, and once accessed it has to be nurtured like any other seed you want to grow.

Cause and effect is so basic yet profound. It is easy get caught up in exotic words like karma, and lose its deep well of meaning. As a poet I have always had a window into the way words vibrate genuine representations of what they attempt to represent. I see their power, and in the same breath I see how quickly they can fail us. I don’t want my words to fail me, or you. I want these expressions to help become guides of truth and understanding, to come forth as actual expressions of the reality they point at.

As I write today the words are not coming as easily as they arrived yesterday but I venture forth. There is no place to go as I burn the bridge that circles back to non-creation, and step out into the fresh air. The stale space I inhabit grows useless. I notice that coping mechanisms stick around long after they have outgrown their usefulness. Our jobs are to recognize this and forge new habits which in the future we will have to discard all over again. It brings to mind trees as they shed their leaves in preparation for the long winter, only to arrive back in all their glory the following spring. Renewal is good stuff, and my heart sheds a tear when I think of my fellow travelers trapped with no desire to escape. I know what it feels like to be claustrophobic, stuck in your own stink, unable to escape. And I also know what it means to leave that space and to walk out into the world and say, “here I am”. In closing I feel compelled to not put an end to this exploration at all but rather to point to the beginning, a true beginning, an authentic journey. So I ask, are you ready to begin with me?

Haunted by Indecision: Getting all emo up in the piece

I’m fed up with the spin-cycle experience I am having on Twitter. I get this spinning my wheels sensation and the thrill has left me. Now I have long looked upon the social media landscape as somewhat fascinating, similar to how I have looked at so many things in this world as completely fascinating. The world in my head is a vast place and I realize in so many ways I am yet to truly share or activate so many aspects of it. Up until now I have contented myself with a periphery view of life, and allowed my dreams to sink in and out my consciousness with little of the persistent discipline that is needed to take my aspirations into the next level of outward fruition. In a tantric way I keep being forced to arrive back at the present moment to build back up something that resembles what I am looking for. As I look once again at the path of bridging my desire, accepting my present reality, and setting my ship in the direction I want to go, it forces me to take an inventory of the whole kit and caboodle.
I realize as I allow myself to express the thoughts that are rolling around in my brain in such a disjointed fashion that I got to get on the keyboard and type away what is up there. I have done so much writing of the spontaneous sort, and in many ways have given myself a tremendous gift in the process. The issue that comes up is that there is sense of wanting more, of feeling disappointment, of getting side-tracked. I get so damn frustrated with the repetitive cycle of not moving forward.
Now in some ways this is an illusion because I am moving forward all the time. My anger which once could spiral out of control with little urging has become quieted. As I look at the accomplishments that I have made I see that once something happens that I wanted, the thing soon becomes a shoddy replacement for the next thing I am looking to experience. This acquisitive attitude is more the problem than any means to the solution. I look at all the advice out there and see so much of it as not speaking directly to me. So many of the people around me who are the so-called experts are feeding me partial views based on worldly success and this seems to fall far from the mark. What is this constant disillusionment I am experiencing? I wonder aloud with you today because I want answers, and I mean ones that really satisfy my brain, not quick First Noble Truth ones about suffering and the path to liberation. Don’t waste your time telling me that stuff. I already bought in on that plan. What I need is real practical stuff, and I daresay that there is probably very little chance that it will come from the advice of others anyway.
Being the adult version of a once smart kid, I got the information logged. It is the experiential nature of things that conquers me sometimes. As I begin to open up and say to hell with it, this is what you got, and this is where I am at, I see the danger. I have always been willing to put myself out there in radical ways. I have always found ways to test my limits and test my experiences so I know that I don’t need to completely reinvent myself.
Actually what I need to do is write. I need to communicate, and I need to do it outside not only of that needling “need” insisting that arrives, as I continually second-guess my use of language and keep trying to put things in the right context with the right understanding. Communication is such a challenging thing because language can mean so many things to us in so many instances that some days silence makes so much more sense. I jabber endlessly to my girlfriend and attempt to express myself to her. I am so thankful for her endless patience with me even though it probably stresses her so much of the time.
I maintain opinions about everything and one of my odd gifts is that I can spot when things are wrong so quickly. My gift feels like a curse and I now feel like I am breathing in a claustrophobic box, but at the same time I do not want to leave. So here you have it, my emo approach to the whole thing and a rant about the frustration of the dissatisfied creative. Gosh I’m sure we hear this spiel so much before. And of course we have the other extreme which is to hide the frustrations we feel, and put on a good face. My heart yells bullshit when I think of that approach. I know that all of this seemingly “on the ball” folks can’t really be so on the ball as they seem because all you have to see is all the suicides, addiction, anger, mistreatment of each other, all the overblown egos, narcissists and self-referential folks around us.
I step out of my cocoon into the light ever so hesitantly not entirely sure what it is that I am getting at, but also with a sense that I am most definitely getting at something. I see that I don’t have to wait to find something to write about. Nor do I have to craft a perfect piece. Nor do I have to take my innermost thoughts and bury them in a journal somewhere. What I can, and apparently am about to do is make my clarion call to be released from my cerebral prison. Yes it will come through my practice as well. But I see that it needs to come out of my writing. Talking yesterday with Twitter User Luna June about what I needed to do made me see once again that I got to roll out my mind like a carpet and begin welcoming the world in. I can’t let fear of feedback, being ignored, or any of the sorts stop me. I can’t hide it. I am here to take advantage of the nature of the world wide web, and take advantage of the fact that as far as I know you will still not be thrown in jail for expressing how you feel. I got to scream, and roar like the Leo Lion that I am. I am ready to yell, but not in a way of releasing anger like some nouveau primal scream therapy, no this is the roar of recognizing I am me. I see when I write how the words come out as quickly as they arrive in my head, and then when they hit the paper they have a basic coherence, a basic underlying logic that is good. I see that I can let loose the cannon in ways that so many of my peers day to day never even begin to let themselves do.
One interesting mini-awakening that came the other day was while reading Midal’s biography of Trungpa where he explains how “first thought, best thought”, Is not crudely talking about just the first thing that arrives in your head as that first thought, but that it is the first good thought that comes form the relaxed or enlightened state, finding the pure thought. I was so struck by that because as someone who navigated thought most of the Artist Way program, free wrote a storm, have been free styling rap since my mid-teens, and all the other ways I have been able to openly express in the fire of the moment, that I am questioning if I ever consistently arrived at a "first thought" in the sense Midal framed it. But here we go again saying okay yes all those things happened and now we got to move on. We got to gather it all together, and in the process rest with this constant ”need” and “got to” thing that always seems to surface. In many ways I feel haunted by all of the success and personal development literature I immersed myself in as I voraciously went about conceptually grasping this “whole thing” and turn my dreams into ways to make money, or ways to be a focal point of others. I wanted to be successful. I wanted to achieve things, but now as I look at what does that mean the thing unravels a bit.
I have gone from distrust of money, success, and the wealthy to wanting those things, to now just wanting to be free in a Rudolf Steiner or Krishnamurti sense. I want to be released from the bounds of all this frustration, or in the very least be okay within the bounds of frustration if that is the place I really am at. Well now I must stop, and not worry so much about my results. The results will always still be here, it is the engaged attitude within the process that drives its message home to my space station. Give me authenticity, keeps ringing in my head from a song that comes on my internet radio often. I don’t even know what song it is, but nevertheless it haunts me. Today I really do feel like I am being haunted. So be it, now ends my rant.

Time Jockey

Beyond the state of perpetual fear comes the steadiness of discipline applied over time. Repetition is how we perfect our masterpiece of life. We become an evolving work of art ripe for play at every moment. As we see the road ahead of us, we plan as needed without getting caught up in the process. We learn to focus intently and dissolve our overlays by taming our mind. Time is our friend always moving us into fresh situations. As we receive these gifts each day we take advantage by engaging in the actions that we have discovered mean the most to us.

Afraid for our lives

Fear paralyzes action or causes you to commit foolhardy ones. We can’t get hampered by our fears as we move forth in our search for the building blocks in the chain of our life. Each interconnected moment unfurling before our eyes needs to be treated with a gentle crispness that is not bogged down in the muck of fear. The way to work with our fear is to begin noticing when it arises. We can see it come to us like a tug inside, making us scared about some thing or another. This is the crucial moment when we begin loosening our habitual patterns and break into more expansive territory. The jockey rides with his horse as one similar to a hand in a glove and this is how you must ride your emotions. Be one with the fluctuations all the while not identifying too strongly with its projections. The stairway that presents itself before you will reward for your efforts but it this is no great concern of yours. You move into this gradual awakening with insights that form the very marrow of your life. Once you move into this arena like a gladiator fighting his way towards knowing there is no turning back. The only difference is that this is a peaceful journey and the arena is open space.

Find the Others

As an only child I became unnecessarily independent. I also became shy and selective about whom I opened up to, generally not trusting people, while still maintaining a fundamental trust even through continual disappointments. Then I realized I don’t have to make it alone. There are so many people out there and resources at my disposal that it is foolish to trudge out in the world alone. Chogyam Trungpa talks about building a court similar to the fashion of royalty with you as the king or queen, with a general, a minister, a steed, and so on. Public Enemy exemplified this court principle with their collective of Chuck D, Flavor-Flav, Terminator X, S1W’s, The Bomb Squad, Harry Allen (Media Assassin), Professor Griff. One not only doesn’t need to go forth alone, but if they are ever going to rise beyond the limits of mere survival and start manifesting their full potential they must gain the support of others. How do we build the links to our chain in this chaotic world?

Opening Up.

Practice can seem awfully lonely until one realizes that written expression can also be a valuable component when merged with the daily process of practice. Following a schedule of discipline in the areas of physical, spiritual, study, and psychological exercises or routines can right the passage. Blogging comes out of the degraded worldview and into the righteous land of pure activity. The ability to transform ordinary moments into powerful examples of life's expression causes our view to widen. This all comes over time, progressively, through applied technique, and concerted effort.

Blow By Blow Accounts of Micro Intrerests

According to NormRobot the PathRhino blog is not a blow by blow account of everything you do in the course of a day. As Cracker walks between me and the laptop as I type. And then does another pass looking for rubs. He keeps passing over and over as the purring reaches a crescendo alongside Chopin's racing Fantasy-Impromptu. Now Cracker has miraculously made it onto my lap, as the other webpage has loaded. Damn my computer loads slow. What kind of netbook do I want I think to myself. The piano has calmed down and Cracker looks down at my hands upon the keys. I think of how the piano and typing rhythm coincides into one. The Soccer game on TV also plays along in the movement. Cracker is too big for my lap but that doesn't stop him from plopping himself there, one back leg cocked out on the floor, two front paws outstretched in his signature Superman pose. Ouch he just got up and his claws are too sharp as he digs into my naked calf. It is taking me a billion years to find that Norm blog entry where he shouted out this blog. Here is the text from his original entry:

PathRhino in da House
So Dave and I started blogging right around the same time, and have discussed the importance of having at least one fellow blogger to check in on your new material. Anything else would be simply unprofessional. With the classic dilemma of "Does anyone out there actually read any of this stuff?", it's nice to know that the answer is "Yes."Dave's blog is honestly what a blog should be; not a blow-by-blow rundown of "this is what I did today", nor a hip insider "news channel" for the micro-scene of your choice. Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course. But it's refreshing...The blog entry below labeled "DB#12000018" is in fact a "double blog" entry, in some ways a throwback to our mind-melding experiments from the early part of the year, but that was in another dimension entirely, and I never give away my secrets.

I have fallen into the blowbyblow thing now that i've been twittering so forgive me if I have sold out to the mundane. I am getting into the groove this weekend by opening my social networking up a bit.

Process Continuity

The key to any endeavor is to use process, Aleister Crowley said if you do a practice without some sort of schedule it will actually upset your balance. Oh to be balanced. Spoke with Fr.Mx and talked about his blog. He mentioned me as a role model. It made me feel gratified, like the hard work seemingly little noticed shines brightly all the time. He asked about Ego and Social Network Sites. I don't have all his answers.

A Quick Thought: Life is better when focused on living choices.

I'll add to this later but for now post it as a teaser. I'll have time to add-up on Saturday.

Revisiting the ILP Modules

I went through the ILP modules again and edited my previous blog entry. The process of reviewing serves to strip down my words quite a bit. I find myself being the Samurai in Natalie Goldberg's book Writing Down the Bones.

The first go round I am out with guns blazing and the second time I got my scalpel out becoming the surgeon. Whatever don't fit must be excised. The piece must run together and hold basic sense or else we are wasting our message in sidebars that rob the potency from our core message.

I have so much previous writing that it seems silly to spend so much time writing new stuff. I stand to benefit from digging into the vaults. I must work my capital like the founder of Binary Economics Louis Kelso teaches us.

Journaling as Practice

I worked a bit in the Integral Life Practice book and touched base in each of the four modules, mind, body, spirit, and the shadow. The mind module included writing and study as a component so I integrated it into the revamped version of this blog. There has been a lull in my videomaking since I lost use of my cam due to droppage.

In the interim I began the EyesOnNow blog keep up with the developing world collapse. I am reporting what is happening as the slide materializes. Some of the reports from my peers in the blog and vid circuit are grim. As the mainstream media look to a quick recovery, the smart man on the street is preparing for something much worse.

Sensory Overload

The world seems to come at us faster now than ever before. The byproduct of automation and technology is speediness and a glut of media. Information bombards our awareness at alarming rates. It is easy to get caught in the perpetual forward lean of life rushing from one event to the next not seeing its effect on us. With so much coming our way it easy to feel walloped from left and right, all the while losing contact with our true selves, and drifting further from our intentions. We falsely begin to see the world as working against us because we are unable to harness it effectively.
By packing our lives with distractions we drain our energy and lose our focus. We allow ourselves to get trapped in mindlessly unaware habitual patterns, dulling ourselves, and sapping our energy. Our world begins to be consumed in the form of entertainment, food, our desires, and buying the things we think we should have.
We stuff our uneasiness with treats rather than uncover what lurks beneath desire without constant acquisition. Perpetual need for consumption is like an addict stuck on its fix, the media junkie scraping the bottom of the barrel for entertainment to counteract their incessant chronic boredom. People also get their energy sapped by jealousy and greed. Want is an animal that left unexamined will roil in your belly deciding your future from behind the scenes.
And so, like an injured patient needing medical assistance we need to respond to these challenges. Where do we go? Do we rush outside for help? The danger of finding your answers wholly from an outside source is you become open to manipulation and bad information. In order to counteract the trapped experience of the Sensory Overloaded individual you need to develop the personal mastery necessary to integrate and embody external influences through the core of your being. Don’t be trapped like the hopeful executive who hires a corporate consultant who arrives with quick fixes and leaves with nobody empowered to maintain the structure he adopts.
And that takes me to the first step in response to sensory overload, which is to contact the stillness of the present moment. Take a step back and just watch your awareness for as little as a split second stem the onrushing tide of new input. Turn off all TV’s, radios, and do not take any phone calls. It is important to allow yourself to be uninterrupted when you plunge into activities. You will find inside you is an inexhaustible reservoir of energy contacted by entering through the gate of stillness. You begin to see you don’t need to go rushing outside of yourself. As you progress you will begin acting in a manner more balanced with the world around you as opposed to crashing into it.

The Aesthetic of the Jangled Mass of Wires

Here is the man in action as always, just steering traffic like a good ole' boy.

The Aesthetic of the Jangled Mass of Wires

needles and pinpricks

Sunburn avoidance honesty depression

I am sunburned, what the hell was i thinking, I am roasting

Avoidance, I avoid what I need to do, I am scared, I sit alone a lot

Honesty is a losing commodity, I compare myself to the world, always hoping

Depression always lurks, I think dying is bringing me in touch with the pain, I am rattled

New Styles the new one

Walking for peace, greens, boredom, death, and sex

I believe that walking is really good for me

I should eat more greens, i see a lot of green, as in trees but not money.

Boredom, i feel akin to boredom, it is my friend, like pot

Death awaits, I watch as it approaches, I am scared, but not as scared as most.

Sex, I think about it alot. I must transmute like Napoleon Hill suggests, transmute desires into success, and of course a loving relationship

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Here check out my mad video, it is alarming and attempting to be positive

New Styles

Here is the new style. I may explain what it is later but for now I am just doing it.

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I have too much crap. I feel fat. I drink too much. I need to save money.

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There is a serious disconnnect between people out there. I chalk it up to expectations. Expectations can turn in many directions as well all the time. You expect the world to be a ceratin way or for people to act a certain way and then it doesn't happen.

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My biggest block from becoming a better writer is consistency and controlled attention. I can't stay on a thought very long before I jump off the deep end. I have a problem connecting from the rhythm of my brain and the pattern of the typing. I don't know what to do with all of the excess, and poignant pieces around me. I get lost. Common problem I bet eh?

Scott Free from the Norm-Al

Check my steez,
No thought in the open set
Check your mind Hyper-I-per -delic,
so Bald head slick are you up for the special ops, get you on the spin like tops
happening,
yap
neon
be the sphere
awake the tokenism
re-shape
set it off
particles breakdown

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And then you ask who can bring judgement
do you figure out before the end
blends tell me its all gone wrong
super gramma
do you know if the human has love
in the here-after in the after-life
after life
i hope to wrap to my wife in the next thought
programming
real life is being official
hell is where
you get to
if you don't
open the scopes
hopes, a dime a dozen
another puzzling special ed maneuver
gel the hair tonic
play wit' young headz is unfair
world wide tearz
drop