I can’t handle slow music these days. Not even slower Radiohead. I can’t look at maps of my country. And here I’m thinking of the Northmost. I have photos on my fridge of my mom and I. Not from these days–I’m two or three. They make me smile but tear me up inside. As a teenage version I read that memories grow stronger the older you get. Memories do more–they march beside you, talking to themselves. They whistle sad tunes and spit at you. They reach their jangly hands into storybooks and songs, and most especially into photos, even when the photos have been torn apart. Even when the insides have been torn out of cassette tapes and come undone in the midwestern wind. Memories use these as twisted tightropes and, laughing, they point at you and taunt and call you the nicknames you hated most. Then, laughing, they might hold you for awhile and beg forgiveness for their ways and mostly for their awful power.
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image by toy-camera at deviantART.
Badlands by Bruce Springsteen always makes me think of the Badlands back home. I’m back riding horses and watching for rattlesnakes as the rain moves in. My father finds one and crushes it with a stick. My father becomes a god to me then because he’s killed the snake that haunts my dreams. The way he talks of the kill, he’s a hero, a cowboy god. I watch for arrowheads, something to make me a warrior, too. There’s a smell of grass so dry it warns of fire that could start spontaneously. This is cowboy country, and it’s light years away from where I am now. It’s magical land, but you don’t think about that when you’re on the saddle. It’s only magical in its distance, with a song that plays on random. I was planning an average evening on an average day, waiting for the rain. Instead I get Badlands at 6pm.
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image by chamois-shimi at deviantART.
There are prophets who educate the world on its evils
then go home and spread plagues and misery from their own beds.
There are men who scream peace from the rooftops
then return only to beat their children or sling words as harsh as fists.
There are kings who cry on camera over injustices done to them
then slink away to warm castles far from the people’s cries.
There are prophets who are prophets only because they fashion themselves this way.
They should know…
…you are no prophet if you can’t see the most simple truth
that the smallest action is also the greatest.
Every small seed planted will be seen again.
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image by gromyko at deviantART.
My students have grown old.
They have cars now
their first eye wrinkles
and they’ve mastered that look
of boredom and anger
at having to work hard
for what they don’t want.
Their parents
on the other side of the world
tell them to be grateful
and they’ve mastered the scowl
of wanting to give a shit
but not.
I remember them
a room of class clowns
telling me I had a “man brain”
in a “very woman body.”
They gave me a foreign name
while I learned to mouth hello
rolling their words over my tongue
like a toddler learning to speak.
***
image by gEistiO at deviantART.
As of October 12, 2009, these are my top favourite albums, in alphabetical order (because it’s far too difficult to try ordering them any other way!). On Twitter every Monday is “Music Monday.” Happy Music Monday. Celebrate with song!!!
A Tribe Called Quest – The Low End Theory
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Animal Collective – Merriweather Post Pavilion
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Arcade Fire – Funeral
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Architecture in Helsinki – Fingers Crossed (recently their music has gotten too garish for me)
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Beirut – The Flying Club Cup
Beirut – Gulag Orkestar
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Björk – Homogenic
Björk – Post
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Bob Dylan – Blood on the Tracks
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Bon Iver – For Emma, Forever Ago
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Broken Social Scene – You Forgot it in People
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Clap Your Hands Say Yeah – Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
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Fever Ray – Fever Ray
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Fiona Apple – Tidal
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Gorillaz – Demon Days
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Iron and Wine – In the Reins
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K’naan – The Dusty Foot Philosopher
K’naan – Troubadour
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The Knife – Deep Cuts
The Knife – Silent Shout
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M.I.A. – Arular
M.I.A. – Kala
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Massive Attack – Collected
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Mazzy Star – She Hangs Brightly
Mazzy Star – So Tonight That I Might See
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Michael Jackson – Bad
Michael Jackson – Off the Wall
Michael Jackson – Thriller
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The National – Boxer
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Nick Drake – Five Leaves Left
Nick Drake – Pink Moon
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Palov and Mishkin – Think Twice
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Peter, Bjorn and John – Writer’s Block
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Portishead – Third
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Radiohead – The Bends
Radiohead – In Rainbows
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Rainbow Arabia – Kabukimono
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Röyksopp – Junior
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Sarah McLachlan – Fumbling Towards Ecstasy
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Talib Kweli – Eardrum
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Tori Amos – Boys for Pele
Tori Amos – From the Choirgirl Hotel
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TV on the Radio – Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes
I love when I’m so immersed in thought that I’ll sit still on a chair, upright, for an hour or so with my eyes glazed over. Might appear comatose, but in reality — anything but.
I love when the advice from a friend hits your ears and you realize you’ve been waiting for those exact words, but you were unaware of waiting.
I love when gestation takes a decided turn towards fruition. I don’t remember when the idea started. I can’t place it, but it’s been awhile, just growing. To give voice to it is grand. To give shape to it will be regal.
***
image by AnimAlu at deviantART.
Knowing that one does not know is knowing at its best. -from the *Dao de Jing*
Some say knowledge is everything, knowledge is power, the pursuit of knowledge above all else. But I say knowledge is really only part of the picture. Because no matter what you know, Life comes in and dive bombs your little towers, your ivory thrones, your mighty protectorates of the mind. Life throws all the books off the shelf and burns your house down.
Knowledge will only get you so far, and not always in the best direction. When knowledge is institutionalized it is pure poison, and there are institutions everywhere, even as systems of belief. Even outside religion there are new forms of ritual to keep us distracted these days. Buy this book. Do this yoga. Wine & dine your chakras because someone who has money says so. Watch these videos for only a few dollars a week, and you will be enlightened, you will have the Truth, and the Wisdom, and the KNOWLEDGE. But really?
No. Way. That’s not it. If you have to look outside yourself for moving into the beyond, it’s not it. There’s not many more ways to explain it. It is what it is, and what is is inside you. The way-making is already there, and there are no instructions. Knowledge is friggin’ hilarious, if you look at it tongue-in-cheek. Learn, but don’t take it so seriously. Don’t look to knowledge to take you closer to something that can never be grasped anyway. There’s too much knowledge, too many systems, and we’re choking out the creativity. Blast it up a bit! Hop down from the tree of knowledge and put on your jester cap from time to time. Trust your heart and your mind and don’t look to figures of authority. Of any kind.
[Added Later:] I’m not saying not to seek or not to go deeper. Become as much as you can become in this lifetime. But give yourself some credit. Stop looking for the next big thing, the next dogma, the next set of instructions. Go out there, meet people, dive.
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image by Wholovesduck at deviantART.
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