Thoughts of Interference

I saw Pan's Labyrinth yesterday and liked it a lot. I agree with Jim Emerson, who wrote in a review in the Chicago Sun Times that the movie is, "...a fairy tale of such potency and awesome beauty that it reconnects the adult imagination to the primal thrill and horror of the stories that held us spellbound as children." It really does bring back that anomalous space in childhood, where we exist on the fringes of reality and fantasy, a world full of magic, beauty and potent horror and taboo.

The film's grounding in postwar repression of Franco's Spain in the 1940's reminded me again how we make sense of life and death and all that happens in between, through myth, fairy tales, the entering of that space that has no basis in "reality". We long for life to have meaning.

When I was very young I had a recurring dream where I entered a maze. (I didn't know then that there was such a thing as a labyrinth, or that a maze and a labyrinth are very different.) The dream took place in the woods off a dirt road near our family cabin in the north country, where I was presented a skeleton key by a sly fox. The fox would allow me to attempt to escape from the maze, which was full of locked doors, and perhaps find my way home again, but with the knowledge that I would be relentlessly hunted during this trial by the fox himself. I felt panic, excitement, and the realization that I may "lose," but enchantment invaded the dream to such a degree that I was taken.

As a girl I also believed in fairies, and spent hours rowing the reedy banks of the northern lake observing their mysterious nest-like hiding places. The black and white of life, even in childhood, sometimes demands extreme imagination.

And now, as adults, by what myths do we live? How do we keep the mundane at bay? Do we pursue a soldier's death followed by a hero's ascent to heaven? How do we process a president who tells us to go out shopping and spend money when we face crisis and long for meaning? How can we react authentically when we live in a real maze of illusions, with manufactured wars, the vision of utopia, the juxtaposition of a childlike patriotism and belief in democracy with nightmare visions of Abu Graib?

Can we be redeemed through death? Will we sit at the right hand of our "father" at the end of our story? Will we be rewarded for all of our purchases? Is Paris Hilton the most googled celebrity? Can we muddy our new patent leather shoes while chasing meaning for a bleak existence? Shall we interfere with violence?

I hate school

Well, I finally got it. The flu that is. Some sort of plague is continually spreading like wildfire through the high school building where I work. Public school buildings are perfect for spreading sickness.

It's like "they" said, "Hmmm. Let's see. How can we spread infectious disease the fastest? I've got it! Let's put all young people in the country in huge energy-inefficient buildings without much ventilation! What else? Let's fill them with the fear of God about absences, like they won't graduate if they have too many, so they come to school even when they are really sick!"

So yesterday I crawled into bed at 4:30pm with a glass of wine (the perfect medicine for many, many ailments, I believe) and a bottle of NyQuil (also a near-perfect remedy, I have found, for many things for colds and flu). I drifted off to sleep watching episodes of The Office, which I had downloaded to my laptop, and awoke in the dark drooling on my pillow.

Lovely. Really. I would much rather be slightly sick here in my bed than there. What a hellish week this is, with finals on Thursday and Friday. Here "they" go again. Another brilliant plan. "Ok people. Focus. How can we ensure that our students are as miserable and stressed-out as possible? Hmmm... I know! I know! Let's have final exams count for 20% of their grade!"

I hate school.

The Stiff And Unbending Is The Disciple Of Death

Seventy-six

A man is born gentle and weak.
At his death he is hard and stiff.
Green plants are tender and filled with sap.
At their death they are withered and dry.

Therefore the stiff and unbending is the disciple of death.
The gentle and yielding is the disciple of life.

Thus an army without flexibility never wins a battle.
A tree that is unbending is easily broken.

The hard and strong will fall.
The soft and weak will overcome.

- Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu

Our president's continuing rigidity is pathetic if not psychopathological. His pseudo-macho attempts to act "strong" are like watching a troubled child on the playground. His administration's lies and deceit have rendered him mute. I can't listen to his voice. Unfortunately he is still The Decider, apparently, and even though the democrats have made some encouraging moves, the troop "surge", war with Iran, and who-knows-what with Syria are surely already set in motion.

A 56 year-old teacher at my school (Army Reserve) was just called up and leaves Monday. He says he knows a 58 year-old infantryman who is on the ground in Bagdad. A couple of my at-risk students have been sporting US Marine t-shirts, lately. They're trying like hell to graduate so they can join, be strong, belong.

Winter Slap, Red Skin

Freezing rain slaps the window and I dream of power lines weighed down above me. Eyes closed, I hear the redbud softly groan in the backyard and gently lie down. Seduction. Snow breaks like glass under red feet. Have you run barefoot in the snow? It doesn't hurt. Spots of blood dot the frigid landscape. Take off your clothes. Can you see? Once in the moonlight I watched a snaking power line crackle and spark on a wet deserted street. Ancient tree branches creaked and splintered clear pure ice. These days you stomp past the house with outstretched mittened hand, snapping icicles in loud torrential cascades.

"Fear is the Path to the Dark Side"

After spending approximately five hours last night watching Everest on the Discovery Channel, I awoke this morning with thoughts of the British climber David Sharp, who lay freezing to death as approximately forty hikers passed by him, ascending and descending. He now lies in the rock cave next to a dead Indian climber, a place which could represent the yin of the mountain, the shady place, the north slope of the hill, the death zone. But yin and yang exist together on the mountain, moving together, containing traces of the other, demanding balance, juggling life and death. You'll hear no judgement from me, no "they should have done more to save him". His was a good death.

Much more troublesome are the 3000 US military deaths in Iraq. Our leaders have fed us with fear and led us into dark places.

Moody and determined to find ways to bring my unruly thoughts into balance, this morning I googled the word "overthinker", and share here part of of a nice little post I found:

The shihans at the aikido summer camp last week emphasized the ultimately “soft” nature of budo. They don’t mean lazy-soft but agile-soft, water-soft, receptive-soft, light-hearted-soft, and of course compassionate-soft. And then they throw some guy twice their size and half their age across the room to demonstrate.

It’s one of ‘em paradox things, I reckon: the idea is to be stone or water as appropriate, but with training I think you wind up being both at the same time. Know the yang but live in the yin, I think the Taoist saying went.

And then there’s this spirit thing they spoke of. It’s one of those things I think I see and understand to some extent, but typically can’t reproduce, myself.

In my own training I’m experimenting more with that lately: soft and receptive, light-hearted. It’s maybe not always appropriate to turn training into play, but it seems to work well for me. If nothing else it’s a lot more fun. The overthinker’s curse attempts to strengthen itself with failure, and this strategy sort of un-defines failure. If it’s all play, it doesn’t matter whether something “works” or not. There is no success or failure, there is only relationship.

My desire for 2007 is to stop overthinking, thereby strengthening myself with failure. To live more in the process, unafraid of death and unafraid to live and love along the way. To find balance through a soft nature, not "lazy-soft but agile-soft, water-soft, receptive-soft, light-hearted soft, and of course, compassionate-soft." To find balance through play.