Philosophy of Sleep

from Caretakers of Wonder, by Cooper Edens
via phantasmaphile

Falling asleep at night can mean approaching the strangeness of pensée de la nuit, so says Hélène De Leersnyder. What a great opportunity each night to practice serenity, and accept our solitude with creativity and gentleness.

"If tomorrow morning the sky falls... have clouds for breakfast.
If night falls... use stars for streetlights.
If the moon gets stuck in a tree... cover the hole in the sky with a strawberry.
If you have butterflies in your stomach... ask them into your heart.
If your heart catches in your throat... ask a bird how she sings.
If the birds forget their songs... listen to a pebble instead.
If you lose a memory... embroider a new one to take its place.
If you lose the key... throw away the house.
If the clock stops... use your own hands to tell time.
If the light goes out... wear it around your neck and go dancing.
If the bus doesn't come... catch a fast cloud.
If it's the last dance... dance backwards.
If you find your socks don't match.... stand in a flowerbed.
If your shoes don't fit... give them to the fish in the pond.
If your horse needs shoes... let him use his wings.
If the sun never shines again... hold fireflies in your hands to keep warm.
If you're afraid of the dark... remember the night rainbow.
If there is no happy ending... make one out of cookie dough."
    —From If You're Afraid of the Dark, Remember the Night Rainbow, by Cooper Edens

Admiring: French Chef

Laura Calder
(picture from Chez LaFleur in Manhattan)

In case my last post sounded a little too Calvinist, let's get to know another hero of mine, Laura Calder. She is known for her cooking show French Food at Home, where she teaches viewers about the joys of eating good food.

What makes me admire her is her wild career arc: linguistics, public relations, cooking... And her rather interdisciplinary explanation of food:

"I'm interested in stories, what food does for you, it’s almost a language in its own right."
   —Laura Calder, interview for York University

"I really love studying languages even just to keep my brain going, but I think it’s an obsession with my mouth, I love everything that goes in and I love what comes out and I love listening to different ways people speak. I love poetry, I love literature, I love accents, but writing was my first love and I wanted to write about food."
   —Laura Calder, interview in FrenchRevolution

Also, I love her playful, relaxed approach to food. She has her opinions on how to serve water (see French Taste), but she also knows that very few people want to master a cuisine to be able make a good chocolate mousse.

So, cook a good, happy, lovely meal and enjoy it, if you feel like it.

New Year's Resolution, Part 2: Don't Seek Happiness

Summer volume of the Breviary of Renaud/Marguerite de Bar, Metz ca. 1302-1305.
Verdun, Bibliothèque municipale, ms. 107, fol. 105r
via medieval

I'm not saying we should not enjoy and value happiness. But I find the hype of constant happiness exhausting. Perhaps I should distinguish between bubbly, consumptive happiness between deep and abiding peace, or even joy. The former can't seem to survive in the face of reality, while the latter is more stable. 

I remember reading Aquinas's Summa Theologica in college, and our professor telling us that Aquinas believed that God's plan for humans was happiness. I still like that idea, but the key is understanding what Aquinas meant by happiness, and taking from it what you will. I think it's so easy to fall into a search for enjoyment (which of course has its place) in our current times, rather to search for something greater:

"Man’s ultimate happiness consists in the contemplation of truth, for this operation is specific to man and is shared with no other animals. Also it is not directed to any other end since the contemplation of truth is sought for its own sake. In addition, in this operation man is united to higher beings (substances) since this is the only human operation that is carried out both by God and by the separate substances (angels)."

    —Summa Contra Gentiles, book 3, chapter 37

If you're not a fan of this version of psychology, you might take a look at Slavoj Zizek's critique of the superego's mandate of enjoyment. 

New Year's Resolution: Fail with Joy

Illustration from Uncle Lubin, by W. H. Robinson

For other over-stressed Western achievers, allow me to recommend a new way of being successful: don't seek success. Seek adventure.

There are people who talk about narrative psychology and how people choose to reflect on universal life experiences, such as failure. One such person is Carol Dweck, who made an appearance on To the Best of Our Knowledge. In her book, Mindset: The New Psychology of Success, Dweck argues that it's our response to failure that makes a difference. Children who see their failure as an opportunity for growth are more successful and take more risks than those who see their failure as a measure of their innate abilities.

So, friends, let's seek adventure. Perhaps it will lead to failure, but won't that be better than staying home?

Merry Christmas

The Nativity, by Sarah Stone
via Strawberige

Happy Alchemical-Child Day. If you happen to catch a glimpse of the precious creative force within, I hope you will care for it like a mother, glory in it like the angels, and honor it like the humblest of kings.

Samsara

Samsara wheel

Friends, I've been crying a lot over the news. The killing of twenty children is too much to bear, and the suffering of the killer is tragic as well. 

I know our civilization can be better than this, that we can give love and help to those who need it, that we can keep weapons out of the hands of the unwise. But I also know that no matter what we do, there will always be suffering. I have no uplifting message today; just the dull truth that there is so much joy and so much pain in this world.

May all beings be at peace.

Calcinatio, Part II

The Fire, by Ricardo Cavolo
via Society 6

It seems my life is organizing itself by elemental themes these days. No sooner do I write a post on a ritual involving fire than my favorite astrologer, Rob Brezsny, posts a beautiful horoscope on the same subject. I'm keeping the Libra-specific post to myself, although you can find it or a different horoscope here. In the meantime, here's some fire-themed wisdom for you:

"Try this meditation: Imagine that you are the wood and the fire that consumes the wood.

First, focus your awareness on the part of you that is the wood. You may tremble or gasp, feeling the jolt of your solidity disintegrating, your form changing. As you shift your attention to the part of you that is the fire, you may exult in the wild joy of power and liberation.

It may be tempting to favor the fire over the wood, to love the burning more than the being burned. But if you'd like to understand pronoia in its fullness, you've got to appreciate them equally. Can you imagine yourself being the fire and wood simultaneously? Is it possible for you to experience the deep pleasure of their collaboration?"

    —excerpt from PRONOIA Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You with Blessings, by Rob Brezsny

Return to Center

Arrows, by Finch and Canary

Life has a way of pulling you away from your center in a hundred different directions at once. My favorite way to return to center is to follow a simple pattern: In. Out. Gratitude. 

1. Sleep. Return to center by letting your body and mind do it naturally, without all of your efforting. In. Move into your breath and the heaviness of your body to help you fall asleep. Out. Move out naturally as you give up control and fall asleep. Gratitude. Wake up grateful!
2. Move. It happened that I took Neesha's "Finding the Hub: Centering Mind, Body, and Heart" class on yogatoday recently. Just what I needed. The key to the class:  In. Move into the core of your body.  (My favorite example: draw your arm bones in before raising them above your head.) Out. Open from the heart to the periphery of your body.  Gratitude.  Be grateful and joyful that you can share in the practice.
3. Meditate. Try this bell meditation, which is available via the On Being website. The principles should sound familiar by now:  In. Move in by focusing on the sound of the bell.  Out.  Move out by letting your mind open and welcome everything.  Gratitude.  End with gratitude and extend this joy and peace to all beings.

May you all feel the peace and joy that comes with feeling centered!

Bob Ross: His Grooviness

I'm always the last to hear about new memes, but nevertheless I want to share this lovely video by John D. Boswell of Symphony of Science, which I found on Drawn. I have a special soft spot for Bob Ross, particularly for his way of waving good-bye as though he was sending out the good vibes. 

For more background on this piece, visit the Washington Post's article here.

Coming Full Circle

Ten Cavaliers Forming a Circle, Stefano della Vella

Today, this blog turns one year old! Check out the post where it all started.

Personal Myth: Humans

Humans, by me

Humans, by me

Here is my next chapter in my personal myth project, which explores what it means to be human in this world. For me, what's interesting about being a humans is how language, laughter, and story can be used to   mediate the natural cycles of life and death. Given that I love learning foreign languages, I really feel that language is an integral part of the human experience. Maybe it's because I feel that words fail me too often, and that stories uplift me, but my own experience of the world is closely related to the human faculty for language and for nonlanguage too.

Happy May Day!

May Queen, by Ronnie Creswell

May the season be filled with abundant blessings and joy!

Postmodern Hymn: Morning Has Broken

Foxglove, by Beatrix Potter
via Shelley Bean, via Victoria Albert Museum

Here's another hymn that isn't entirely new (see my post on Brother Sun Sister Moon for another example). Cat Stevens brings a earnest, hippie feeling to this classic hymn, and the tone seemed just right for these spring days we've been having. I walk outside and see bursts of new color each day—what a miracle this world is!

The Gods Speak of God

by Stephen Mackey

I'd been thinking about God and I'd been thinking about poetry, and then this poem appeared:

It doesn't interest me if there is one God 

or many gods. 

I want to know if you belong 

or feel abandoned. 

If you know despair or can see it in others. 

I want to know if you are prepared to live in the world 

with its harsh need 

to change you. If you can look back 

with firm eyes 

saying this is where I stand. I want to know 

if you know 

how to melt into that fierce heat of living 

falling toward 

the center of your longing. I want to know 

if you are willing 

to live, day by day, with the consequence of love 

and the bitter 

unwanted passion of your sure defeat. 

I have heard, in that fierce embrace, even 

the gods speak of God. 

    —"Self Portrait," by David Whyte  

(I've posted a bit on David Whyte before, when I talked about Irene Belknap's art, so I guess I'm a fan, although every time I encounter his work I think it's the first time I've discovered him. What a wonderful feeling, to keep discovering someone I like.)

When I was thinking about God, I was wondering if I could verbalize what I believed to anyone, and if that someone could accept what I said without needing to hear her own view reflected back to her. So this poem affirms something that I feel deeply, that the question of God isn't as important as all that gets tied up with God, and that God is a word that means something more than God. Thank goodness for poets and poetry; I always feel so relieved to find someone who can artfully say what I feel.

Dance Till You Feel Better

I remember watching this clip from So Think You Can Dance years ago, and I still think it's one of the best moments from the show. When I watch Will Wingfield dance this solo, I feel like I'm listening to a gospel choir. His dancing has a beautiful synchronicity between between the music and the lyrics, and it really does make me want to get up and dance.

Lent and the Conditions for Happiness

by Jose Manuel Ferrater
via Sebastian

We're now in the second week of Lent, for those who are counting. Growing up, I learned that Lent was a time for sacrificing something (usually, something that gave me pleasure, like chocolate) and that somehow my abstaining from a bit of food was like Jesus's temptation in the wilderness.

But since the onset of adulthood, I've found this practice of fasting to be unhelpfully negative. Wouldn't it be better to commit to a positive practice, like an increased regimen of prayer and meditation?

Enter in my latest thoughts on Thich Nhat Hanh and conditions for happiness. Over and over again, he stresses the joy that can be found in the breath, and in simply noticing all that is well with your body. His view is a rather dramatic opposition to figures such as Augustine, who are so sure that the body is the way of sin.

So this Lent, I'm practicing the joy of the body, not in some hedonistic, let's get drunk and have orgies kind of way, but in the simple way of noticing my breath and noticing my body and taking pleasure in that. Will you join me? I think it might prepare us for a fantastic rebirth on Easter.

Dancing Storm Spirit

Floating Corset, by Frances Pellegrini
via Biddington's

"Praised be this wild, good, free spirit of the storm, which dances upon swamps and afflictions, as upon meadows! . . . Lift up your hearts, you good dancers, high! Higher! And do not forget the goodness of laughter! This crown of laughter, this rose garland crown: to you my brothers do I throw this crown! Laughing have I consecrated; you higher men, learn, I pray you - to laugh!" 

  —Friederich Nietzsche in Thus Spake Zarathustra, "The Higher Man," #20 

This quotation is partially the inspiration for "the Dancing Alchemist," both the name and the focus of the blog. There's something almost Taoist about the storm spirit's affirmation of all conditions, and there's something magically alchemical about laughter being able to transform the one who laughs, through affirmation, to embrace all circumstances. Isn't that part of the Great Work, to take joy in life as it is given?

King of Hearts

Scene from The King of Hearts
via Bitchin' Flicks

The King of Hearts, the cult-classic anti-war film, offers an excellent commentary of the insanity of violence and modern society. In case you haven't seen it, it is about an ornithologist (Alan Bates) who is sent to save a French town from being destroyed by a bomb. The setting is World War II, but it has a classic late 60s feel.

Besides making an anti-war statement, it also offers a beautiful parable about the struggle that each of us faces with death and love. 

via Nader Library

The King of Hearts manages to dismantle the bomb, which is hidden in the great clock tower of the church, and thus acknowledges the suffering that can be caused by time. Shortly after comes his great scene of enlightenment: he takes of his clothes and stands at the gate of the insane asylum. 

Artful Folding

by Akira Yoshizawa
via Origami Maniacs

"I also want to make in origami the joy of living. In Buddhism we call it 'throwing your body to the ground to thank God.' It might be a little hard to understand, but that's the feeling I've been searching for and trying to put into origami my whole life."

    —Akira Yoshizawa, in Origami: From Anglefish to Zen

Akira Yoshizawa is famous for revolutionizing the art of origami. He invented the wet-folding technique and created the diagram system that is used today for origami directions. What I really love about him is his almost mystical concern for the living world—the story goes that he would create animals not with a goal of simply mimicking their outward appearance, but with an understanding of how the animals developed out of single-cell beginnings. 

"There are two ways to the style of Zen living. One is to know the space around you, to know the world, and accept it. We all inhale the same air, for one thing, so we share nature with one another. The other way is to know yourself, your feelings, and what's inside you. . . . If you know yourself and at the same time love nature and the people around you, the two ways of Zen will be united."

    —Akira Yoshizawa, in Origami: From Anglefish to Zen

Postmodern Hymn: Bottom of a River

Adam Arcuragi would like to share the gospel of death with us. Shall we listen?

I heard about Adam Arcuragi through a fantastic article on Sightings, where M. Cooper Harris describes the genre of Death Gospel and discusses the various artists who could be included in such a label:

"Death Gospel offers an interesting rejoinder to a culture that denies death and decay, insisting instead that particular individualities require a universal point of convergence; it addresses a generation of young adults (and their elders) who, despite their spirituality and electronic connections, feel alienated from their traditions (religious or otherwise), from their humanity, and from one another."

"Death Gospel offers no assurances. What it holds out for is the possibility that people may, together, be transformed in their attitudes toward living, may love and be loved, and thereby recognize in these fleeting moments of community a measure of authentic existence regardless of what lies beyond knowing."

Yes. Amen. I think I'll be learning the whole Death Gospel hymnal.