By Thomas James Martin
Published Suite101 - September 1, 2002
I recently received a letter from an old friend of mine who had suddenly disappeared many years ago. It turns out that he has been studying ancient religions and mysticism all over the world during the past few years.
After years of meditation and spiritual practices, he opened his eyes one morning after a particularly deep meditation to discover that he had been in satori for weeks and to find dozens of other spiritual seekers sitting around him in a circle. They immediately bowed to him en masse and introduced themselves as his students.
Apparently, they had become so awed while watching the play of golden colors above his head as they watched him in meditation that they now considered him an enlightened master. Soon his fame spread far and wide, and many were amazed at the effortless wisdom with which he handled the problems of his disciples. An avid group of his followers determined that the master should share his wisdom and glory with all the peoples of the world.
Thus, the media phenomenon of Doctor Zen (I mean Zin) was born. The good Doctor has asked me to function as his intermediary. His mailbox is overflowing (as well as the tongue in his not so politically correct cheek). Here are some questions from tortured souls along with his humble but possibly "brilliant" answers.
Dear Doctor,
I have lost my job, my life savings, and have had to declare bankruptcy. To make matters worse, my wife called me a deadbeat and ran off to Madagascar with a lingerie sales clerk with money gained from selling our children to a black market adoption service. My psychiatrist tells me that I am depressed and has put me on various anti-depressive medications.
However, I feel there must be a spiritual answer to these problems. Can you help me, Dr. Ze\in?
Broke in Buffalo
Dear Broke,
Just snap out of it man!!! You don't need no stinking pills!
Of course, there is a spiritual solution to any of life's challenges. I prefer the word challenge to problem as a problem is really an opportunity for growth. Now you can do something with your life that you really want to do. For example, you could:
Teach seminars to the recently unemployed at $500 a pop on coping with change
Sell homemade cayenne pepper ice cream
Open a carwash that specializes in SUV's and other earth-friendly vehicles
Become a hit man (the money's great!)
Take a course in VCR repair (preferably Betamax). By the way, DVD's are just a temporary phenomenon in my opinion.)
Earn thousands of dollars on the Internet just mailing out letters to friendly folk clamoring to fill up their empty hard drives
Earn a substantial living telemarketing, as you help willing people find mortgage refinancing or various types of siding at dinner time or even better while they are watching Monday Night Football or reruns of Ally McBeal or Seinfeld
I would not lose any sleep about losing your life savings and retirement either. Most convenience stores will continue to hire older workers, especially for the graveyard shift. (Don't forget, just give them the money; no heroics.)
Hope this helps!
Sincerely,
Z
Dear Doctor Zin,
What is the secret of life?
Siddartha
Delhi
Dear Siddhartha,
Now it wouldn't be a secret any longer if I told you, would it? Don't ever ask me that again. As they say in alphabet agencies (CIA, NSA, FBI, etc.), If I told you, I might have to kill you.
Sincerely,
Z
Dear Doctor Z,
My boyfriend is into natural foods and has become obsessed with pistachio nuts. He eats them everywhere, and usually I don't mind. It's just that lately he's started shelling them while we are. . .well, you know. . .mixing it up so to speak.
I wouldn't mind his eating the nuts if he would just properly dispose of the shells, but he insists upon just throwing them anywhere, and I, for one, am sick and tired of lying on the them.
Also, I am becoming quite nauseated when he runs those red-stained hands over my body. Oh, Doctor Z, I don't know what to do. I do love Billy, and am afraid that he will leave me if I complain.
I don't know if I can take it anymore, Doctor. Please help!
Nutty in Naples, Florida
Dear Nutty in Naples,
Since you are a female and a second-class person, you can try talking to him in that sweet simpering tone of voice for which your sex is famous. Tell him how you honestly feel about the situation. (Hey maybe you could do this while ironing his shirts.) Don't go too far of course; you don't want him to dump you!
Try watching some movies from the '40s or '50s if you need some cultural conditioning to help you achieve the proper passive aggressive tone and manner. May I suggest almost any of the Doris Day-Rock Hudson movies, such as "Lover, Come Back" or "That Touch of Mink."
Some of the romance comics of the period offer some good advice on how the "little woman" should deal with the dominant sex. Try some of the old "Modern Romances." If you have trouble locating old copies of the comics, try Truer Than True Romances, a modern update on the romance comics.
Yours,
Dr. Zin
Dear Zin,
I recently appeared on the "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" television program. I was all excited about the prospects of winning a million dollars and international fame and fortune.
Unfortunately, I missed the first question. It was just too hard. They actually asked me to name any two sexes of human beings. How was I to know that BDSM and Foot Fetish not actually the names of the sexes.
Of course, now I know that male and female were the correct answers, but I don't know if I will ever be able to show my face in public again since I am so humiliated.
P.S. - I also lost on Jeopardy.
Clueless in Seattle
Dear Clueless,
Don't ever again send your filth to me! After washing your mouth out with soap, you should crawl under your bed and never come out again!
Furthermore, don't even think about tying me up with #2 twisted fiber hemp rope to the goldplated iron rings that were mistakenly installed by rambunctious disciples in the base boards of my heart-shaped bed.
Believe you me, I WILL find out and suitably punish with my new cat-o-nine tails whoever of my enemies told you about this!
Also, I will sue you into eternity if you tell that I also lost on Jeopardy.
Exasperatedly yours,
Z
Well, that is all the advice the good Doctor sent me this time. If his column catches on, he has promised to send me some more of his enlightened wisdom and advice. Until that future time, Doctor Zin has asked me to pass along to you this deep thought which struck him one evening as he was eating his usual box of Milk Duds:
Don't you think you would like it if it were likable.
Peace.
Copyright 2002-2010, Thomas James Martin, all rights reserved.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
The Key to the Treasure
By Thomas James Martin
Published Suite101 - October 22, 2001
The key to the treasure is the treasure.
--John Barth, Chimera
Dear Reader, if you are like myself you probably long to read in a column such as this one fabulous notions on how to calculate with absolute accuracy the exact location on the planet of your true soul mate. Perhaps you would like me to whisper in your virtual ear the secret of enlightenment or show you how to juggle all your various karma chameleons until they vanish as the delusions they are. Even just a few words about the nature of reality would probably be welcome. Surely, Martin, you can twirl the Dance of the Seven Veils on the head of a pin while changing a tire and drinking a latte.
When I figure out such matters, I will gladly relate the findings to you, especially that one about the tire and the latte. However, I do know a tool that I believe has helped my life, helped me to live more abundantly and come closer to my mature goals. The use of Affirmations has been an important tool for me, and while their use may or may not lead to the sudden enlightening bolt from the blue (or salvation or nirvana or heaven), they do help me at least to live my life in a positive frame of mind.
The creation of this positive framework is why affirmations are both the key to the treasure and the treasure. When I am in a positive state of mind, I am open and responsive to new experiences, to new ways of thinking and doing things. I am not afraid to be creative; I share and enjoy and enjoy your sharing and joy.
Contrast the preceding with what happens when you are down or in a negative frame of mind. As you talk negatively to yourself, perception narrows and often pessimistic expectations lead to negative experiences by way of the self-fulfilling prophecy. That is you get out of life what you put in. If you constantly expect negative experiences, you will tend to get just that, negativity in your life.
As we have learned from sports figures such as Michael Jordan and Larry Bird and the inspirational lives of such figures as Helen Keller, Martin Luther King, and the current Dalai Lama, attitude may not be everything but it almost is. Negative events happen in every life whether we like it or not (and no one truly knows why), but what is so important is how we respond to such events. We can maintain a positive attitude that will help us move more gracefully through such circumstances.
So, I am not here to preach that saying a few magic words will heal your life. I am saying that talking positively to myself has helped me to lead a life that at least is open to the possibility of prosperity, joy, harmony and love. In that openness the magic can happen. The sun may not shine all the time but it surely cannot shine through a shuttered window to bestow its gift of warmth and light.
There are many sites on the Net that offer affirmations. Here are some links to get you started. Just pick affirmations that seem pertinent to your personality or situation. You can find books in the self-help section of your local bookstore or you can check them out of the library. Here are some books that I have found useful. (To check Barnes and Noble for titles featuring affirmations, just click the "Buy" icon at the top of the page to go to their online bookstore. You may need to use their search function.)
You can also write your own affirmations but please remember always to use positive language. For example, do not write “I am never broke,” as the word “broke” is negative and with the word “not” you already creating a negative situation. Instead, write something like, “My income is constantly increasing.”
There is some disagreement as to the timing of affirmations, but in general be sure to write your affirmations in the present tense. Write as if the situation you wish is already happening. "Doing what I love serves others" is stronger to your consciousness than "Doing what I love WILL serve others." Use of the future tense implies that you are approaching but possibly may never reach your goal.
Using affirmations is easy. Some people find a quiet place and meditate on a few statements. I believe the key is to expose yourself to the positive statement as much as possible. I carry cards with me at all times on which I have written affirmations dealing with areas of life that I feel need some positive energy. I place a few cards near my computer where I see them many times throughout the day. Sometimes I pick one up and concentrate on its significance. Another good way of handling affirmations is to tape a few of them to your lavatory mirror. Every time you wash your hands or look into the mirror you are reminded to consider your positive statements. Even when I work out my health club, I repeat my affirmations to myself while on the treadmill or with each repetition of my strength training.
Here are some affirmations that have helped me keep my windows clear. Perhaps you will find them useful also.
I am thankful for the prosperous circumstances of my life.
I am glad that others are prosperous and successful.
I am generous with myself and others.
Action helps transform my goals into reality.
I am constantly creating my life anew.
I love and accept myself.
I have an attitude of gratitude
I allow others to be who they are.
I choose my response with love.
What I concentrate on expands.
Money is good.
I am prosperous in all areas of my life.
Hair continues to grow on top of my head.
This is such a vast subject, and I have only scratched the surface in this essay. I will be writing some more articles on the general subjects of affirmations, self-talk, prosperity consciousness, etc.
While the individual affirmations sometimes work wonders in my life, I am even more impressed with the positive attitude that seems to derive from constant attention to them and other techniques of positive thinking and meditation. One reaches a state of mind whereby one begins to operate from a sense of trust in the universe. An alignment with the positive forces happens. And, it is not "magical thinking" or engaging in “pollyannaish” behavior. People who practice these techniques do realize that accidents happen, loved ones die, sources of income dry up, wives or husbands suddenly leave.
They do however hold a precious key that enables belief in themselves and a continually growing confidence in maintaining a positive alignment. To possess and to use that simple, but powerful key of affirmation in whatever life circumstances one finds oneself is indeed the treasure itself.
Copyright 2002-10, Thomas James Martin, all rights reserved.
Published Suite101 - October 22, 2001
The key to the treasure is the treasure.
--John Barth, Chimera
Dear Reader, if you are like myself you probably long to read in a column such as this one fabulous notions on how to calculate with absolute accuracy the exact location on the planet of your true soul mate. Perhaps you would like me to whisper in your virtual ear the secret of enlightenment or show you how to juggle all your various karma chameleons until they vanish as the delusions they are. Even just a few words about the nature of reality would probably be welcome. Surely, Martin, you can twirl the Dance of the Seven Veils on the head of a pin while changing a tire and drinking a latte.
When I figure out such matters, I will gladly relate the findings to you, especially that one about the tire and the latte. However, I do know a tool that I believe has helped my life, helped me to live more abundantly and come closer to my mature goals. The use of Affirmations has been an important tool for me, and while their use may or may not lead to the sudden enlightening bolt from the blue (or salvation or nirvana or heaven), they do help me at least to live my life in a positive frame of mind.
The creation of this positive framework is why affirmations are both the key to the treasure and the treasure. When I am in a positive state of mind, I am open and responsive to new experiences, to new ways of thinking and doing things. I am not afraid to be creative; I share and enjoy and enjoy your sharing and joy.
Contrast the preceding with what happens when you are down or in a negative frame of mind. As you talk negatively to yourself, perception narrows and often pessimistic expectations lead to negative experiences by way of the self-fulfilling prophecy. That is you get out of life what you put in. If you constantly expect negative experiences, you will tend to get just that, negativity in your life.
As we have learned from sports figures such as Michael Jordan and Larry Bird and the inspirational lives of such figures as Helen Keller, Martin Luther King, and the current Dalai Lama, attitude may not be everything but it almost is. Negative events happen in every life whether we like it or not (and no one truly knows why), but what is so important is how we respond to such events. We can maintain a positive attitude that will help us move more gracefully through such circumstances.
So, I am not here to preach that saying a few magic words will heal your life. I am saying that talking positively to myself has helped me to lead a life that at least is open to the possibility of prosperity, joy, harmony and love. In that openness the magic can happen. The sun may not shine all the time but it surely cannot shine through a shuttered window to bestow its gift of warmth and light.
There are many sites on the Net that offer affirmations. Here are some links to get you started. Just pick affirmations that seem pertinent to your personality or situation. You can find books in the self-help section of your local bookstore or you can check them out of the library. Here are some books that I have found useful. (To check Barnes and Noble for titles featuring affirmations, just click the "Buy" icon at the top of the page to go to their online bookstore. You may need to use their search function.)
You can also write your own affirmations but please remember always to use positive language. For example, do not write “I am never broke,” as the word “broke” is negative and with the word “not” you already creating a negative situation. Instead, write something like, “My income is constantly increasing.”
There is some disagreement as to the timing of affirmations, but in general be sure to write your affirmations in the present tense. Write as if the situation you wish is already happening. "Doing what I love serves others" is stronger to your consciousness than "Doing what I love WILL serve others." Use of the future tense implies that you are approaching but possibly may never reach your goal.
Using affirmations is easy. Some people find a quiet place and meditate on a few statements. I believe the key is to expose yourself to the positive statement as much as possible. I carry cards with me at all times on which I have written affirmations dealing with areas of life that I feel need some positive energy. I place a few cards near my computer where I see them many times throughout the day. Sometimes I pick one up and concentrate on its significance. Another good way of handling affirmations is to tape a few of them to your lavatory mirror. Every time you wash your hands or look into the mirror you are reminded to consider your positive statements. Even when I work out my health club, I repeat my affirmations to myself while on the treadmill or with each repetition of my strength training.
Here are some affirmations that have helped me keep my windows clear. Perhaps you will find them useful also.
I am thankful for the prosperous circumstances of my life.
I am glad that others are prosperous and successful.
I am generous with myself and others.
Action helps transform my goals into reality.
I am constantly creating my life anew.
I love and accept myself.
I have an attitude of gratitude
I allow others to be who they are.
I choose my response with love.
What I concentrate on expands.
Money is good.
I am prosperous in all areas of my life.
Hair continues to grow on top of my head.
This is such a vast subject, and I have only scratched the surface in this essay. I will be writing some more articles on the general subjects of affirmations, self-talk, prosperity consciousness, etc.
While the individual affirmations sometimes work wonders in my life, I am even more impressed with the positive attitude that seems to derive from constant attention to them and other techniques of positive thinking and meditation. One reaches a state of mind whereby one begins to operate from a sense of trust in the universe. An alignment with the positive forces happens. And, it is not "magical thinking" or engaging in “pollyannaish” behavior. People who practice these techniques do realize that accidents happen, loved ones die, sources of income dry up, wives or husbands suddenly leave.
They do however hold a precious key that enables belief in themselves and a continually growing confidence in maintaining a positive alignment. To possess and to use that simple, but powerful key of affirmation in whatever life circumstances one finds oneself is indeed the treasure itself.
Copyright 2002-10, Thomas James Martin, all rights reserved.
'Twas All Hallows Eve
By Thomas James Martin
Published Suite101 - October 30, 2002
Part the First: Introduction
I discovered this poem in a haunted house in my part of town.
My ghoulfriend liked its silly rhymes and lack of renown;
She admired it so much, she started to rhyme without reason
So realizing the true nature of the Halloween season.
She loved it so much that she shucked her gown,
And danced quite naked on a moonlit down,
Screeching and yowling like the banshee she was
Howling the words 'til the cops came fas-t.
Cuffing us and throwing us in the city jail;
Wondering if we would ever make bail,
Gave us lots of time to shape shift this verse,
Though God only knows how we could get it any worse.
Part the Second: Twas All Hallows Eve. . .
Twas the night of All Hallow's and all through the room
Not a creature was stirring not even a broom,
The apples were floating in a deep cauldron pot
And without the sorry revelers were turning to rot;
The little ones were'nt nestled all snug in their beds,
Whilst visions of sugar goblins danced in their heads;
And Queenie with her boas and me in Versace threads,
Had just settled down to dine on the dead.
When up in the attic there rose such a clatter,
I sprang from the table to see what was the matter;
Up the stairs I flew like a flash
Shooshing Elvira 'way from her mash;
Saw the moon on the plates of my best dragon brood
Snarling and feasting over some fast-flowing blood
When, what to my hooded eyes should appear
But a large, hooded coach and eight wolves a-howling
Followed in reverence by Nine Kings a-groveling
And a partridge in a pear tree deliciously hanging;
(. . .Oops, dreadfully sorry, wrong schtick);
I heard rattling chains then someone get sick;
I roared out so loud that spiders sprang for corners,
Then what should I see but Drac and his mourners,
Cavorting and singing in the silver moonlight,
Dark shadows lurking, children of the night!
"Now Basher! Now, Necromancer! and Vixen!
On, Vomit! On Cuspid! On, Condor and Bludgeon!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall,
Now tear away! Tear away, tear away all!"
As dry bones before the vile Witches do fly,
When they meet an obstacle, such as why
On earth the coursers to the house top they flew,
Maddened with bad poetry and and smelly body parts too.
And then, in a wrinkling, I heard in the raw
The scraping and scratching of each hairy paw;
As drew back my hand with a snarling frown
Into the chimney Old Dracula slid down.
He was dressed all in black from his foot to his head,
And his cape swirled around showing glimpses of red,
His minions before him carried bags of naughty boys,
Demanding more candy and making dreadful noise.
His eyes -- how they stared! his face so pale!
His cheeks were like paper, his nose like a rail!
His droll little mouth was twisted upside down,
In danger of setting in a permanent frown
I guess I embarrassed him when I pointed to his teeth,
Where a smear of blood circled like a spinach wreath;
He had a mean little face and hardly any belly
And as he smiled, I shook like a bowlful of jelly.
He was a lean and mean, a right scary old vamp
Didn't mean to laugh when I saw him, but doubled up in a cramp;
Then a wink of his yellow eye and a glimpse of his head
Soon gave me to know I'd soon be among the living but dead.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And took all my blood, then turned me into a jerk,
Just like him, and taking his finger aside picked his nose,
And giving a nod for me to follow, up the chimney we rose;
He sprang to his coach, to his team gave a whistle,
And away we all flew like a guided missile.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove into the night,
"HAPPY HALLOWEEN TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD FRIGHT!"
Part the Third: This Sounds Familiar
I wish I could say I knew the author true,
But really, I must say I haven't a clue;
Some say some flake of a monster
Borrowed the rhyme from a right old Napster.
I say this verse is based on The Night Before Christmas,
Something most shameless, since those verses delight-mus;
Some attributed those great children's verses
Peviously to Clement Clarke Moore but trust us
Major Henry Livingston Jr (1748 to 1828)
Is To whom is now attributed that poem's fate;
Now if you will allow me one final word,
Cursed be the reader who calls me nerd.
Editor's Note: I am not open to discussions of enjambment.
Copyright 2002-2006 article and verse, Thomas James Martin, all rights reserved.
Published Suite101 - October 30, 2002
Part the First: Introduction
I discovered this poem in a haunted house in my part of town.
My ghoulfriend liked its silly rhymes and lack of renown;
She admired it so much, she started to rhyme without reason
So realizing the true nature of the Halloween season.
She loved it so much that she shucked her gown,
And danced quite naked on a moonlit down,
Screeching and yowling like the banshee she was
Howling the words 'til the cops came fas-t.
Cuffing us and throwing us in the city jail;
Wondering if we would ever make bail,
Gave us lots of time to shape shift this verse,
Though God only knows how we could get it any worse.
Part the Second: Twas All Hallows Eve. . .
Twas the night of All Hallow's and all through the room
Not a creature was stirring not even a broom,
The apples were floating in a deep cauldron pot
And without the sorry revelers were turning to rot;
The little ones were'nt nestled all snug in their beds,
Whilst visions of sugar goblins danced in their heads;
And Queenie with her boas and me in Versace threads,
Had just settled down to dine on the dead.
When up in the attic there rose such a clatter,
I sprang from the table to see what was the matter;
Up the stairs I flew like a flash
Shooshing Elvira 'way from her mash;
Saw the moon on the plates of my best dragon brood
Snarling and feasting over some fast-flowing blood
When, what to my hooded eyes should appear
But a large, hooded coach and eight wolves a-howling
Followed in reverence by Nine Kings a-groveling
And a partridge in a pear tree deliciously hanging;
(. . .Oops, dreadfully sorry, wrong schtick);
I heard rattling chains then someone get sick;
I roared out so loud that spiders sprang for corners,
Then what should I see but Drac and his mourners,
Cavorting and singing in the silver moonlight,
Dark shadows lurking, children of the night!
"Now Basher! Now, Necromancer! and Vixen!
On, Vomit! On Cuspid! On, Condor and Bludgeon!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall,
Now tear away! Tear away, tear away all!"
As dry bones before the vile Witches do fly,
When they meet an obstacle, such as why
On earth the coursers to the house top they flew,
Maddened with bad poetry and and smelly body parts too.
And then, in a wrinkling, I heard in the raw
The scraping and scratching of each hairy paw;
As drew back my hand with a snarling frown
Into the chimney Old Dracula slid down.
He was dressed all in black from his foot to his head,
And his cape swirled around showing glimpses of red,
His minions before him carried bags of naughty boys,
Demanding more candy and making dreadful noise.
His eyes -- how they stared! his face so pale!
His cheeks were like paper, his nose like a rail!
His droll little mouth was twisted upside down,
In danger of setting in a permanent frown
I guess I embarrassed him when I pointed to his teeth,
Where a smear of blood circled like a spinach wreath;
He had a mean little face and hardly any belly
And as he smiled, I shook like a bowlful of jelly.
He was a lean and mean, a right scary old vamp
Didn't mean to laugh when I saw him, but doubled up in a cramp;
Then a wink of his yellow eye and a glimpse of his head
Soon gave me to know I'd soon be among the living but dead.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And took all my blood, then turned me into a jerk,
Just like him, and taking his finger aside picked his nose,
And giving a nod for me to follow, up the chimney we rose;
He sprang to his coach, to his team gave a whistle,
And away we all flew like a guided missile.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove into the night,
"HAPPY HALLOWEEN TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD FRIGHT!"
Part the Third: This Sounds Familiar
I wish I could say I knew the author true,
But really, I must say I haven't a clue;
Some say some flake of a monster
Borrowed the rhyme from a right old Napster.
I say this verse is based on The Night Before Christmas,
Something most shameless, since those verses delight-mus;
Some attributed those great children's verses
Peviously to Clement Clarke Moore but trust us
Major Henry Livingston Jr (1748 to 1828)
Is To whom is now attributed that poem's fate;
Now if you will allow me one final word,
Cursed be the reader who calls me nerd.
Editor's Note: I am not open to discussions of enjambment.
Copyright 2002-2006 article and verse, Thomas James Martin, all rights reserved.
The Graffiti of Middle-Earth
By Thomas James Martin
Published Suite101- August 5, 2003
Glancing around to make sure that no one saw me, especially renowned hawk eye, Mrs. Margaret King, my chemistry teacher, who was sitting nearby, I surreptitiously scribbled Frodo Lives! on the inside, back cover of the Broadman Hymnal as I sat in the back row of the First Baptist Church of Liberty, North Carolina.
Holding the volume up a little, I pretended to look over the hymns. Then taking one more look around, I quickly put the hymnal in its holder on the back of the wooden pew in front of me. I felt sure that no one had noticed. Glancing around the auditorium I saw that a few members of the congregation were absorbed in Dr. English's lengthy sermon on the Beatitudes while the rest were struggling with varying stages of wakefulness.
"I live!" I mumbled to myself. "I live!"
Such is the power of J.R.R. Tolkien—even in those days before appalling media hype, DVDs with director's cuts, targeted merchandise, computer modeling and fantastic special effects.
Such is the energy and vitality of Lord of the Rings that I, a shy, quiet, small-town teenager and scholastic overachiever initiated my rebellion against the narrow moralistic confines and shallow intellectualism of small town life with those two words.
Later, I learned that some nameless artist first wrote the same words on subway walls in New York City in 1967. Those scribbles essentially started the graffiti movement in the 60's and 70's to write, paint, on chalk on every available surface in the western world that the heroic hobbit had survived the armies of Mordor, the lava pits of Mt. Doom and Sauron, the Dark Lord, himself.
I have always been something of an admirer of good graffiti, as sometimes people truly reveal themselves in this "art form." Anthropologists study quite earnestly the graffiti of ancient cultures, as the writing tells them so much about daily life.
For example, in ancient Rome, lost in the dust of history is the name of the young man who posted this message: Helena amatur a Claudius (Helen is loved by Claudius). Some things about civilization never change, as one famous bit of writing from the walls of ancient Pompeii translates: Cornelius made me pregnant. The Romans also left jokes, laundry lists, stories, and even a few advertisements on the walls.
I hasten to add that with the exception of the Frodo incident and maybe one other minor indiscretion having to do with a jilting by a certain girlfriend; I am neither a graffiti artist nor have any ambitions to write such trash.
. . .Ok, well, maybe just a little. . .
You see, I did come across some ancient writings from various walls, tables, lavatories and, yes, pissoirs of Middle-Earth. I suspect the Dark Lord himself, knowing that I would not be able to resist publishing these mad scribblings, sent this muckraking journalism to me to spite arrogant wizards, self-righteous warriors, dour dwarves, goody-goody elves, small-minded men and other fops and fools over which he hoped to hold dominion. However, I must say they do offer some fascinating insights (and reality bites) into the diverse folk of The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit and the Silmarillion.
For your convenience and possible amusement I have translated the inscriptions from the various languages—Elvish (Quenya and Sindarin), Khuzdul (language of the dwarves), Orkish, Westron (the common tongue) and even the Black Speech and Entish.
Carved into a tree in Mirkwood:
Watch out for Treebeard, girls. He's fast!
On a restroom wall in the Shire:
Hoo boy! that Bilbo Baggins,
I'm so tired of His Naggins.
Scribbled on the pink walls of a Mordor Pissoir in black ichor:
Sauron sucks Galadriel's toes!
Do Nazguls really need to go?
Free Gollum!
Scrawled on the poker table in the Orc's Recreation Room:
Those Nazguls are such creeps
They've been dead so long
They actually think DVDs
Are really BVDs.
Once every millennia or so Galadriel's Mirror fogs up. . .
Elrond's mother was a brunette!
Arwen rocks!
The Grey Havens suck.
Who's your Daddy?
Attributed to Orcs in the Mines of Moria:
Elves, schmelves
They think their ichor don't stink.
More from Moria:
Mordor!
I'll give you Mordor,
You two-timing dwarf!
Attributed to a bright Olog-hai at Isengard:
How many dwarves does it take to change a light bulb in the caves of Moria?
Answer - At least fifty: One to change the bulb, one to twiddle his beard while wondering what a light bulb is, and 48 to feed the cave troll!
Lipstick (from wild berries of course) smeared on the mirror in the Rivendell Ladies Room
He's so pretty, he's so cool
I can't help it, Legolas rules!
Stencilled on an inner wall at Minas Tirith:
Gandalf rides a whisk broom!
Thimk, you Hobbits!
Boromir slept here with Hobbits.
Gimli did too!
Carved on the White Tree:
Isildur did it!
Bored with the Rings (Initials below are almost illegible but may be JRRT.)
While not technically graffiti, the items that follow were sent to me by another clandestine source. Though he did not request anonymity, I am still loathe to attribute these materials to someone known to me only as that "Fool of a Took."
A small collection of Middle-Earth bumper stickers:
Orcs do it in the dark!
Wizards do it with will!
Balrogs fire it up!
Elves do it lightly!
Rangers do it with elves!
Merry changed his name and did it!
Nazguls used to do it!
Trolls still wonder. . .
Recent headlines in The Gondor World News:
Treebeard Is the Father of My Child!
I Was a Balrog Love Slave
Samwise Gamgee Separates from Mr. Frodo
Merry and Pip. . .Together Again
Eowyn Breaks Up Aragorn and Arwen's Love Nest
Amphibian Rescued from Flames. . .
The rest of the sentence. . .
Frodo lives. . . and though sick and tired of elves, is hiding from Samwise in the Grey Havens
Author's Note:If you are a fan of the Lord of the Rings and other works by JRR, check out the outstanding articles entered in the 2003 Tolkien Event.
Copyright 2003, Thomas James Martin, all rights reserved
Published Suite101- August 5, 2003
Glancing around to make sure that no one saw me, especially renowned hawk eye, Mrs. Margaret King, my chemistry teacher, who was sitting nearby, I surreptitiously scribbled Frodo Lives! on the inside, back cover of the Broadman Hymnal as I sat in the back row of the First Baptist Church of Liberty, North Carolina.
Holding the volume up a little, I pretended to look over the hymns. Then taking one more look around, I quickly put the hymnal in its holder on the back of the wooden pew in front of me. I felt sure that no one had noticed. Glancing around the auditorium I saw that a few members of the congregation were absorbed in Dr. English's lengthy sermon on the Beatitudes while the rest were struggling with varying stages of wakefulness.
"I live!" I mumbled to myself. "I live!"
Such is the power of J.R.R. Tolkien—even in those days before appalling media hype, DVDs with director's cuts, targeted merchandise, computer modeling and fantastic special effects.
Such is the energy and vitality of Lord of the Rings that I, a shy, quiet, small-town teenager and scholastic overachiever initiated my rebellion against the narrow moralistic confines and shallow intellectualism of small town life with those two words.
Later, I learned that some nameless artist first wrote the same words on subway walls in New York City in 1967. Those scribbles essentially started the graffiti movement in the 60's and 70's to write, paint, on chalk on every available surface in the western world that the heroic hobbit had survived the armies of Mordor, the lava pits of Mt. Doom and Sauron, the Dark Lord, himself.
I have always been something of an admirer of good graffiti, as sometimes people truly reveal themselves in this "art form." Anthropologists study quite earnestly the graffiti of ancient cultures, as the writing tells them so much about daily life.
For example, in ancient Rome, lost in the dust of history is the name of the young man who posted this message: Helena amatur a Claudius (Helen is loved by Claudius). Some things about civilization never change, as one famous bit of writing from the walls of ancient Pompeii translates: Cornelius made me pregnant. The Romans also left jokes, laundry lists, stories, and even a few advertisements on the walls.
I hasten to add that with the exception of the Frodo incident and maybe one other minor indiscretion having to do with a jilting by a certain girlfriend; I am neither a graffiti artist nor have any ambitions to write such trash.
. . .Ok, well, maybe just a little. . .
You see, I did come across some ancient writings from various walls, tables, lavatories and, yes, pissoirs of Middle-Earth. I suspect the Dark Lord himself, knowing that I would not be able to resist publishing these mad scribblings, sent this muckraking journalism to me to spite arrogant wizards, self-righteous warriors, dour dwarves, goody-goody elves, small-minded men and other fops and fools over which he hoped to hold dominion. However, I must say they do offer some fascinating insights (and reality bites) into the diverse folk of The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit and the Silmarillion.
For your convenience and possible amusement I have translated the inscriptions from the various languages—Elvish (Quenya and Sindarin), Khuzdul (language of the dwarves), Orkish, Westron (the common tongue) and even the Black Speech and Entish.
Carved into a tree in Mirkwood:
Watch out for Treebeard, girls. He's fast!
On a restroom wall in the Shire:
Hoo boy! that Bilbo Baggins,
I'm so tired of His Naggins.
Scribbled on the pink walls of a Mordor Pissoir in black ichor:
Sauron sucks Galadriel's toes!
Do Nazguls really need to go?
Free Gollum!
Scrawled on the poker table in the Orc's Recreation Room:
Those Nazguls are such creeps
They've been dead so long
They actually think DVDs
Are really BVDs.
Once every millennia or so Galadriel's Mirror fogs up. . .
Elrond's mother was a brunette!
Arwen rocks!
The Grey Havens suck.
Who's your Daddy?
Attributed to Orcs in the Mines of Moria:
Elves, schmelves
They think their ichor don't stink.
More from Moria:
Mordor!
I'll give you Mordor,
You two-timing dwarf!
Attributed to a bright Olog-hai at Isengard:
How many dwarves does it take to change a light bulb in the caves of Moria?
Answer - At least fifty: One to change the bulb, one to twiddle his beard while wondering what a light bulb is, and 48 to feed the cave troll!
Lipstick (from wild berries of course) smeared on the mirror in the Rivendell Ladies Room
He's so pretty, he's so cool
I can't help it, Legolas rules!
Stencilled on an inner wall at Minas Tirith:
Gandalf rides a whisk broom!
Thimk, you Hobbits!
Boromir slept here with Hobbits.
Gimli did too!
Carved on the White Tree:
Isildur did it!
Bored with the Rings (Initials below are almost illegible but may be JRRT.)
While not technically graffiti, the items that follow were sent to me by another clandestine source. Though he did not request anonymity, I am still loathe to attribute these materials to someone known to me only as that "Fool of a Took."
A small collection of Middle-Earth bumper stickers:
Orcs do it in the dark!
Wizards do it with will!
Balrogs fire it up!
Elves do it lightly!
Rangers do it with elves!
Merry changed his name and did it!
Nazguls used to do it!
Trolls still wonder. . .
Recent headlines in The Gondor World News:
Treebeard Is the Father of My Child!
I Was a Balrog Love Slave
Samwise Gamgee Separates from Mr. Frodo
Merry and Pip. . .Together Again
Eowyn Breaks Up Aragorn and Arwen's Love Nest
Amphibian Rescued from Flames. . .
The rest of the sentence. . .
Frodo lives. . . and though sick and tired of elves, is hiding from Samwise in the Grey Havens
Author's Note:If you are a fan of the Lord of the Rings and other works by JRR, check out the outstanding articles entered in the 2003 Tolkien Event.
Copyright 2003, Thomas James Martin, all rights reserved
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Looking Breathlessly
By Thomas James Martin
Published - May 5, 2002
For me there is only the traveling on paths that have heart, on any path that may have heart. There I travel, and the only worthwhile challenge is to traverse its full length. And there I travel looking, looking, breathlessly. ~Don Juan (Yaqui indian shaman in Carlos Castneda's series of books)
I have been in and out of photography all my life. It all started with a “Brownie” box camera given to me for my 10th birthday. In my teens I saved up enough money to graduate to a cheap 35mm camera.
I was early captivated by the great photographers and it seems that I bought a magazine of collected photographs of various types almost every month. For example, I had collections of Scandinavian photographers, Ansel Adams and other nature photographers, photojournalists, etc.
In those days there was more question than there is nowadays as to whether photography is an art. This was never a problem for me. Photography is its own art form, ". . .a discovery of the world in terms of light."
How those photographs enriched my experience and understanding of life. The French photographer, Henri Cartier-Bresson, was my earliest hero.
Looking over his work in collections (those "annuals") as a farm boy on tobacco road in the Piedmont of North Carolina, I yearned for a little 35mm Leica rangefinder like he made famous and a knapsack with which to travel and photograph the world.
I dreamed of capturing--like Bresson--the essence of the eternal moment: An embrace of lovers; bicyclists caught in some great mysterious design, the ineffable truth of which could only be expressed visually; Language at times unable to express the true nature of the infinite heart of existence.
If you were to ask me what is the most valuable thing that I have
learned from photography, I would have to answer, “seeing.” When I work with a camera, I am fascinated with how so often I cannot find anything of interest to photograph at first.
Then, as I relax and shed layers of mental preoccupations, the linear expectations and anxieties of our very mental (perhaps insane) culture, my mind settles quietly into my intention to take pictures, I find myself shifting into greater connectivity with my feelings, and I begin to “see.”
What we see so often is a kind of consensus reality, an inventory of preconceptions that we have agreed that is the way the world should be. For example when I first look at a tree when I am in my ordinary, preoccupied mental state, I don’t see that tree in its totality. I filter it through so much mental noise that I only see the obvious things happening around it. I may notice a bird flying away or if there is a strong wind, I may notice the swaying of branches and trunk, but I don’t really “see” it.
To really “see” you must become as an infant or small child who does not see the world the way we see it as adults. A child does not see the color blue or rather s/he sees one color as a continuum of all colors; not a tree, but an extended form. The child has not learned all our adult notions of consensus reality.
Turning away from all my mental preoccupations, I become a vessel for expression. As my intellect joins with my feelings, suddenly pictures are everywhere: A leaf falls into an interesting arrangement of wild flowers; a spider web glistens with dew; a curve of sunlight on wind-swept water.
I think this phenomenon is an example of what some spiritual masters call “falling into the heart,” that is releasing the bonds of the conscious mind and acting from one’s center of being, a place where heart and head and senses meet.
For me it is the place where true art is found whether the art form is visual or not. Photography—as well as poetry—have from childhood been natural ways for me to diverge from the ordinary mind into a kind of “super-mind,” where I find that I can use so many more of my faculties other than the intellect.
Once experienced, to attempt to create without functioning in this "super mind," is rather like the taste of a sugary soft drink after sipping a fine wine; cheap and empty and heartless.
Don Juan, the shaman quoted in the epigram, offers additional observations about "seeing" when he tells his disciple, Carlos Castaneda, that he is teaching him how to see as opposed to merely looking, and stopping the world is the first step to seeing.
We have talked about "seeing" in this first essay. Next time we shall continue our exploration of the relationship between art and spirituality as we look into some ways to "stop the world" and see it as it really is rather than how we think it is.
Copyright 20002-10, Thomas James Martin, all rights reserved
Published - May 5, 2002
For me there is only the traveling on paths that have heart, on any path that may have heart. There I travel, and the only worthwhile challenge is to traverse its full length. And there I travel looking, looking, breathlessly. ~Don Juan (Yaqui indian shaman in Carlos Castneda's series of books)
I have been in and out of photography all my life. It all started with a “Brownie” box camera given to me for my 10th birthday. In my teens I saved up enough money to graduate to a cheap 35mm camera.
I was early captivated by the great photographers and it seems that I bought a magazine of collected photographs of various types almost every month. For example, I had collections of Scandinavian photographers, Ansel Adams and other nature photographers, photojournalists, etc.
In those days there was more question than there is nowadays as to whether photography is an art. This was never a problem for me. Photography is its own art form, ". . .a discovery of the world in terms of light."
How those photographs enriched my experience and understanding of life. The French photographer, Henri Cartier-Bresson, was my earliest hero.
Looking over his work in collections (those "annuals") as a farm boy on tobacco road in the Piedmont of North Carolina, I yearned for a little 35mm Leica rangefinder like he made famous and a knapsack with which to travel and photograph the world.
I dreamed of capturing--like Bresson--the essence of the eternal moment: An embrace of lovers; bicyclists caught in some great mysterious design, the ineffable truth of which could only be expressed visually; Language at times unable to express the true nature of the infinite heart of existence.
If you were to ask me what is the most valuable thing that I have
learned from photography, I would have to answer, “seeing.” When I work with a camera, I am fascinated with how so often I cannot find anything of interest to photograph at first.
Then, as I relax and shed layers of mental preoccupations, the linear expectations and anxieties of our very mental (perhaps insane) culture, my mind settles quietly into my intention to take pictures, I find myself shifting into greater connectivity with my feelings, and I begin to “see.”
What we see so often is a kind of consensus reality, an inventory of preconceptions that we have agreed that is the way the world should be. For example when I first look at a tree when I am in my ordinary, preoccupied mental state, I don’t see that tree in its totality. I filter it through so much mental noise that I only see the obvious things happening around it. I may notice a bird flying away or if there is a strong wind, I may notice the swaying of branches and trunk, but I don’t really “see” it.
To really “see” you must become as an infant or small child who does not see the world the way we see it as adults. A child does not see the color blue or rather s/he sees one color as a continuum of all colors; not a tree, but an extended form. The child has not learned all our adult notions of consensus reality.
Turning away from all my mental preoccupations, I become a vessel for expression. As my intellect joins with my feelings, suddenly pictures are everywhere: A leaf falls into an interesting arrangement of wild flowers; a spider web glistens with dew; a curve of sunlight on wind-swept water.
I think this phenomenon is an example of what some spiritual masters call “falling into the heart,” that is releasing the bonds of the conscious mind and acting from one’s center of being, a place where heart and head and senses meet.
For me it is the place where true art is found whether the art form is visual or not. Photography—as well as poetry—have from childhood been natural ways for me to diverge from the ordinary mind into a kind of “super-mind,” where I find that I can use so many more of my faculties other than the intellect.
Once experienced, to attempt to create without functioning in this "super mind," is rather like the taste of a sugary soft drink after sipping a fine wine; cheap and empty and heartless.
Don Juan, the shaman quoted in the epigram, offers additional observations about "seeing" when he tells his disciple, Carlos Castaneda, that he is teaching him how to see as opposed to merely looking, and stopping the world is the first step to seeing.
We have talked about "seeing" in this first essay. Next time we shall continue our exploration of the relationship between art and spirituality as we look into some ways to "stop the world" and see it as it really is rather than how we think it is.
Copyright 20002-10, Thomas James Martin, all rights reserved
Monday, July 12, 2010
Mitakuye Oyasin
By Thomas James Martin
Published Suite101 - October 2, 2001
. . .only connect. . . ~ DH Lawrence, Over the Rainbow
There is a wonderful word which I learned several years ago when I participated in a sweat lodge offered by Wallace Black Elk, a teacher, healer, and shaman of the Lakota Sioux tradition and Dr. William Lyon, an anthropologist formerly of Southern Oregon University. That word,mitakuye oyasin, seemed to penetrate so deeply into my consciousness that even now I continue to marvel at its depth and relevance to my life and spiritual path.
That summer evening as we sat stuffed into a large teepee-shaped lodge, our bodies issuing buckets of sweat as "warriors" brought in one fiery, red stone after another, "Grandfather" Black Elk (spiritual descendant of the original Oglala Sioux holy man, Black Elk) referred to an honoring of all our relationships in our personal world. He asked each of us to consider mitakuye oyasin, a word from the Lakota language that literally means all my relations.
As steam splattered from water poured over the stones and the sacred pipe was passed around, Black Elk explained that the Lakota saw the universe as a living, breathing, entity in which we are all connected, not only flesh and blood creatures, but mountains and trees, oceans and rivers; all the inanimate world also. He even referred to the heated boulders as the "Stone People." The Lakota word to express this interrelated web of life in which we all exist and have our being is mitakuye oyasin.
This powerful word for which there is no equivalent in English, is a recognition of the unity innate in the universe. Even more, it is a salutation, a prayer for all creation to commune in the harmony and balance that bridge the diversity of our lives.
I have come to understand that this Lakota word is a sort of touchstone for my feelings about myself and my relationships with the other beings in my life (human or otherwise). A touchstone was originally a black stone (somewhat like flint) used to test the purity of gold and silver by the streak left on the stone when scratched by the metal. Thus, it has come to mean by connotation a standard by which other things are measured.
Whenever mitakyasi comes to mind, I know that I am receiving a signal from my higher consciousness that I need to consider my relationships not only with friends, relatives and coworkers but also how I am feeling about the world outside my personal realm. As a person with a long history of exhibiting a tendency to cut myself off from people and live as a loner, I find that I must look more deeply at "all my relations."
When I test my soul's streak against the touchstone of mitakyasi, I see neither gold nor silver. I see a myriad of gossamer strands shining where each person that I have known has touched my life, and also where I have touched them. I see that I am part of a greater whole, and that I cannot ignore my relationships with beings outside my small consciousness.
When I forget this truth of our "ecology of being," I sometimes fall into the psychological trap, of "exclusivity." Perhaps it is due to the "loner" mentality, but I sometimes think that "exclusivity" may be the only true "disease" of the soul. Now please understand that I am not referring here to individuality, but rather to "exclusivity" in the sense of the verb "to exclude." To be excluded is to be isolated such that one cannot participate.
Exclusivity becomes a disease when a person believes that her/his truth or beliefs are truer than another's. The condition (rather like the sin of pride) occurs, for example, when I think that God favors me rather than my neighbor for the righteous life that I have led.
While I am sure you have your own list of ways in which you separate yourself from others and the world around you, I will step forward here and list just a few preconceptions that keep me from realizing my connections with others, animate and inanimate, mortal or immortal at times:
Do not participate in gatherings of fellow human beings, as the people all engage in "groupthink" rather than think for themselves.
If I sing, everyone will start leering at me when they see that I cannot carry a tune (Actually, this may be really true!).
My search for truth is more profound than yours.
It’s just an animal; it can’t really think, can it?
That person muttering on the street is probably crazy.
I'm turning to gold, turning to gold; I don't know about you!
Do not show love; someone may laugh or worse show indifference.
Participants in that sweat lodge left that evening with various images or ideas about truth through the eyes of a Native American shaman. From talking with them, I knew that some had received visions while others heard voices that provided some direction as they left to proceed on their own paths. Others experienced healing or peace. Each of us left the sacred ground with a different experience.
I experienced neither visions nor voices nor very much peace; only legs cramping from sitting too long and heat so fierce that I had longed for the coolness of a sauna. With good fortune though, I took away a word of power, mitakuye oyasin, which I have never forgotten, and which reminds me from time to time that I am not alone in this world; I am connected with everyone and everything. My participation in this universe we call home illumines this whole shining web in which we all live and have our being.
If I take the time to speak, think and act with a sense of my interconnectedness (as the Lakota concept implies), I can only feel compassion toward all creatures as they are indeed part of my self. If I am indifferent to you, I am indifferent to myself; If I care for you, I am offering love to myself as well.
Editor's Note: "Grandfather" Wallace Black Elk continues to offer sweat lodges and workshops. Together with Black Elk, Dr. William Lyon wrote Black Elk: The Sacred Ways of a Lakota. Dr. Lyon is also the author of Encyclopedia of Native American Healing and and other works about Native American cultures.
Published Suite101 - October 2, 2001
. . .only connect. . . ~ DH Lawrence, Over the Rainbow
There is a wonderful word which I learned several years ago when I participated in a sweat lodge offered by Wallace Black Elk, a teacher, healer, and shaman of the Lakota Sioux tradition and Dr. William Lyon, an anthropologist formerly of Southern Oregon University. That word,mitakuye oyasin, seemed to penetrate so deeply into my consciousness that even now I continue to marvel at its depth and relevance to my life and spiritual path.
That summer evening as we sat stuffed into a large teepee-shaped lodge, our bodies issuing buckets of sweat as "warriors" brought in one fiery, red stone after another, "Grandfather" Black Elk (spiritual descendant of the original Oglala Sioux holy man, Black Elk) referred to an honoring of all our relationships in our personal world. He asked each of us to consider mitakuye oyasin, a word from the Lakota language that literally means all my relations.
As steam splattered from water poured over the stones and the sacred pipe was passed around, Black Elk explained that the Lakota saw the universe as a living, breathing, entity in which we are all connected, not only flesh and blood creatures, but mountains and trees, oceans and rivers; all the inanimate world also. He even referred to the heated boulders as the "Stone People." The Lakota word to express this interrelated web of life in which we all exist and have our being is mitakuye oyasin.
This powerful word for which there is no equivalent in English, is a recognition of the unity innate in the universe. Even more, it is a salutation, a prayer for all creation to commune in the harmony and balance that bridge the diversity of our lives.
I have come to understand that this Lakota word is a sort of touchstone for my feelings about myself and my relationships with the other beings in my life (human or otherwise). A touchstone was originally a black stone (somewhat like flint) used to test the purity of gold and silver by the streak left on the stone when scratched by the metal. Thus, it has come to mean by connotation a standard by which other things are measured.
Whenever mitakyasi comes to mind, I know that I am receiving a signal from my higher consciousness that I need to consider my relationships not only with friends, relatives and coworkers but also how I am feeling about the world outside my personal realm. As a person with a long history of exhibiting a tendency to cut myself off from people and live as a loner, I find that I must look more deeply at "all my relations."
When I test my soul's streak against the touchstone of mitakyasi, I see neither gold nor silver. I see a myriad of gossamer strands shining where each person that I have known has touched my life, and also where I have touched them. I see that I am part of a greater whole, and that I cannot ignore my relationships with beings outside my small consciousness.
When I forget this truth of our "ecology of being," I sometimes fall into the psychological trap, of "exclusivity." Perhaps it is due to the "loner" mentality, but I sometimes think that "exclusivity" may be the only true "disease" of the soul. Now please understand that I am not referring here to individuality, but rather to "exclusivity" in the sense of the verb "to exclude." To be excluded is to be isolated such that one cannot participate.
Exclusivity becomes a disease when a person believes that her/his truth or beliefs are truer than another's. The condition (rather like the sin of pride) occurs, for example, when I think that God favors me rather than my neighbor for the righteous life that I have led.
While I am sure you have your own list of ways in which you separate yourself from others and the world around you, I will step forward here and list just a few preconceptions that keep me from realizing my connections with others, animate and inanimate, mortal or immortal at times:
Do not participate in gatherings of fellow human beings, as the people all engage in "groupthink" rather than think for themselves.
If I sing, everyone will start leering at me when they see that I cannot carry a tune (Actually, this may be really true!).
My search for truth is more profound than yours.
It’s just an animal; it can’t really think, can it?
That person muttering on the street is probably crazy.
I'm turning to gold, turning to gold; I don't know about you!
Do not show love; someone may laugh or worse show indifference.
Participants in that sweat lodge left that evening with various images or ideas about truth through the eyes of a Native American shaman. From talking with them, I knew that some had received visions while others heard voices that provided some direction as they left to proceed on their own paths. Others experienced healing or peace. Each of us left the sacred ground with a different experience.
I experienced neither visions nor voices nor very much peace; only legs cramping from sitting too long and heat so fierce that I had longed for the coolness of a sauna. With good fortune though, I took away a word of power, mitakuye oyasin, which I have never forgotten, and which reminds me from time to time that I am not alone in this world; I am connected with everyone and everything. My participation in this universe we call home illumines this whole shining web in which we all live and have our being.
If I take the time to speak, think and act with a sense of my interconnectedness (as the Lakota concept implies), I can only feel compassion toward all creatures as they are indeed part of my self. If I am indifferent to you, I am indifferent to myself; If I care for you, I am offering love to myself as well.
Editor's Note: "Grandfather" Wallace Black Elk continues to offer sweat lodges and workshops. Together with Black Elk, Dr. William Lyon wrote Black Elk: The Sacred Ways of a Lakota. Dr. Lyon is also the author of Encyclopedia of Native American Healing and and other works about Native American cultures.
Let It Be War!
By Thomas James Martin
Published Democratic Underground
The shock therapy of decisive war will elevate the stock market by a couple-thousand points. We will know that our businesses will stay open, that our families will be safe, and that our future will be unlimited.
--Larry Kudlow, National Review, June 26, 2002
I remember my mother telling me when I was an idealistic teenager about a person who she called an "ignorant old man," who she heard say in public prior to WWII, "If it means higher prices for corn, then let it be war!"
I could not help but think of those callous words when I ran across the esteemed Mr. Kudlow's words, which I cited in the epigram to this essay. Now Mr. Kudlow by no stretch of the imagination could you be considered "ignorant" like the poorly educated farmer my mother mentioned so many years ago
Mr. Kudlow is CEO of Kudlow & Co. and Economics Editor of the National Review, a respected (by Republicans anyway) conservative periodical. I took a couple of economics courses in college, and I know that the subject is quite difficult even if it still retains (somewhat erroneously) Thomas Carlyle's nineteenth century moniker, the "dismal science."
Thus, Mr. Kudlow, you are no lightweight—at least with respect to financial theory and market savvy, and since you are a CEO of a your own corporation, you must also be well versed in management, and human relations. (I may have that last bit about the human relations wrong, since in today's corporate world, the winners are the sharks that excel at corporate infighting.)
Aw shucks, Larry (May I call you, Larry), I am only a sometime journalist and writer, but I can't help but wonder what all those soldiers may think about your statement. Having served one hitch in the U.S. Army, I might have felt pretty good about keeping the "families safe," and maybe even have agreed with some of that keeping the businesses open since that implies keeping the breadwinners working to support their families.
However, I do know what I would have felt about elevating the "stock market a couple of thousand points," and it probably would have involved procreation with your self in a darkened room.
Now, I know gambling—excuse me—investing in--the market is supposedly not the same as "making book" on sports action or the "ponies," as there is research done by a whole lot of smart people—probably like yourself--who attempt to time the market and pick the securities that are on the way up or down (since knowledgeable investors make money either way). Then again, maybe my naiveté exceeds that of a little old lady buying Enron stock with the last of her nest egg from a trusted broker at Merrill Lynch.
Hey, Larry, you know; it just dawned on me--in spite of my persistent 3rd grade view of American history and society. People at your socio-economic level with your inside knowledge of markets, access to the corporate "old boy" network and good friends over at the SEC most likely only bet on sure things—like the fact that wars drive up the stock market. After all, it took the entire mobilization of the country during WWII—not to mention a few tens of million of deaths--to end finally the Great Depression. Hey, Larry, I guess I just made your case, didn't I?
Still, Larry, dying for one's country, making the ultimate sacrifice for the survival of our people and our democratic republic is one thing. I could probably have even died peacefully while serving my country knowing that my parents were living well and my children, eating hamburgers and fries under the flawed economic system that some now worship as free-market capitalism.
However, I don't think that I would have been exactly thrilled to die for the greed of you and your cronies, no matter how much it is couched in your quasi-patriotic language expressing "that our businesses will stay open, that our families will be safe, and that our future will be unlimited."
You go on to say in the same paragraph, "The world will be righted in this life-and-death struggle to preserve our values and our civilization." Since when did the upward mobility of Dow Jones have anything to do with preserving anything of our values and civilization other than the most crass—much less the gallantry of our young men, Larry?
All too often the deaths of a brave soldiers merely to preserve entrenched political and business interests smacks of the "rich man's war and the poor man's fight." I cannot help but think of World War I British poet Wilfred Owens' lament:
The old lie:
Dulce et decorum for patria mori.
Those Latin words translate to "Sweet and glorious it is to die for one's country." Those words are not always a lie used by elites to rally the population around the flag; occasionally those deaths may be necessary for the greater good.
Nevertheless, Larry, it is not sweet and glorious to die for greed and crony capitalism. Besides, I wouldn't want to shock my sweet, 80-year old mother with the truth of your well-wrought words about truth, money and the "American Way." After all, she still, in all innocence, thinks that only a low-class, semi-literate old dirt farmer would wish for the deaths of young men and women just to drive up the price of corn.
Certainly, she would never in her wildest dreams believe that a man as well-educated, well-connected, and literate enough to write for a prestigious national magazine would want to unleash the dogs of war just to chase a few bears on Wall Street.
This site was last updated 07/12/10
Copyright 2002-10, Thomas James Martin, all rights reserved.
Published Democratic Underground
The shock therapy of decisive war will elevate the stock market by a couple-thousand points. We will know that our businesses will stay open, that our families will be safe, and that our future will be unlimited.
--Larry Kudlow, National Review, June 26, 2002
I remember my mother telling me when I was an idealistic teenager about a person who she called an "ignorant old man," who she heard say in public prior to WWII, "If it means higher prices for corn, then let it be war!"
I could not help but think of those callous words when I ran across the esteemed Mr. Kudlow's words, which I cited in the epigram to this essay. Now Mr. Kudlow by no stretch of the imagination could you be considered "ignorant" like the poorly educated farmer my mother mentioned so many years ago
Mr. Kudlow is CEO of Kudlow & Co. and Economics Editor of the National Review, a respected (by Republicans anyway) conservative periodical. I took a couple of economics courses in college, and I know that the subject is quite difficult even if it still retains (somewhat erroneously) Thomas Carlyle's nineteenth century moniker, the "dismal science."
Thus, Mr. Kudlow, you are no lightweight—at least with respect to financial theory and market savvy, and since you are a CEO of a your own corporation, you must also be well versed in management, and human relations. (I may have that last bit about the human relations wrong, since in today's corporate world, the winners are the sharks that excel at corporate infighting.)
Aw shucks, Larry (May I call you, Larry), I am only a sometime journalist and writer, but I can't help but wonder what all those soldiers may think about your statement. Having served one hitch in the U.S. Army, I might have felt pretty good about keeping the "families safe," and maybe even have agreed with some of that keeping the businesses open since that implies keeping the breadwinners working to support their families.
However, I do know what I would have felt about elevating the "stock market a couple of thousand points," and it probably would have involved procreation with your self in a darkened room.
Now, I know gambling—excuse me—investing in--the market is supposedly not the same as "making book" on sports action or the "ponies," as there is research done by a whole lot of smart people—probably like yourself--who attempt to time the market and pick the securities that are on the way up or down (since knowledgeable investors make money either way). Then again, maybe my naiveté exceeds that of a little old lady buying Enron stock with the last of her nest egg from a trusted broker at Merrill Lynch.
Hey, Larry, you know; it just dawned on me--in spite of my persistent 3rd grade view of American history and society. People at your socio-economic level with your inside knowledge of markets, access to the corporate "old boy" network and good friends over at the SEC most likely only bet on sure things—like the fact that wars drive up the stock market. After all, it took the entire mobilization of the country during WWII—not to mention a few tens of million of deaths--to end finally the Great Depression. Hey, Larry, I guess I just made your case, didn't I?
Still, Larry, dying for one's country, making the ultimate sacrifice for the survival of our people and our democratic republic is one thing. I could probably have even died peacefully while serving my country knowing that my parents were living well and my children, eating hamburgers and fries under the flawed economic system that some now worship as free-market capitalism.
However, I don't think that I would have been exactly thrilled to die for the greed of you and your cronies, no matter how much it is couched in your quasi-patriotic language expressing "that our businesses will stay open, that our families will be safe, and that our future will be unlimited."
You go on to say in the same paragraph, "The world will be righted in this life-and-death struggle to preserve our values and our civilization." Since when did the upward mobility of Dow Jones have anything to do with preserving anything of our values and civilization other than the most crass—much less the gallantry of our young men, Larry?
All too often the deaths of a brave soldiers merely to preserve entrenched political and business interests smacks of the "rich man's war and the poor man's fight." I cannot help but think of World War I British poet Wilfred Owens' lament:
The old lie:
Dulce et decorum for patria mori.
Those Latin words translate to "Sweet and glorious it is to die for one's country." Those words are not always a lie used by elites to rally the population around the flag; occasionally those deaths may be necessary for the greater good.
Nevertheless, Larry, it is not sweet and glorious to die for greed and crony capitalism. Besides, I wouldn't want to shock my sweet, 80-year old mother with the truth of your well-wrought words about truth, money and the "American Way." After all, she still, in all innocence, thinks that only a low-class, semi-literate old dirt farmer would wish for the deaths of young men and women just to drive up the price of corn.
Certainly, she would never in her wildest dreams believe that a man as well-educated, well-connected, and literate enough to write for a prestigious national magazine would want to unleash the dogs of war just to chase a few bears on Wall Street.
This site was last updated 07/12/10
Copyright 2002-10, Thomas James Martin, all rights reserved.
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