around here, we obey the law

Photo by Stu Leal

the law of observation

of course it doesn’t work correctly
when someone is watching

murphy’s law

the best laid plans of mice and men often go ugly
so we learn to laugh at our mistakes
and learn what we can from them

the law of innocence and experience

travelling from innocence to experience is a necessity of life
so we show love to others on this path
remembering how difficult it was for us

the law of love

any belief or thought system
that does not have love as its core belief
love for all persons
the intention not to harm others
and even the intention to love that which we don’t understand
is not a system that works long term

the law of fear

people may try to harm others while suspended by fear
although the threat of danger has passed, they cannot let it go
they are only trying to protect themselves
even if the fear has taken over
the person is still in there somewhere
great amounts of fear cannot be defeated with equal amounts of fear
only an equal amount of love will combat that fear
i don’t know if i have that much love
where can i find it?

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the artist and the capitalist

Off the top of my head, I can think of two kinds of artist. One is an artist, and the other is a capitalist. Both of these artists have their merits, but they are divided by perspective and worldview.

What differentiates the artist from the capitalist is that she draws inspiration and motivation from something I call “love” but that word has so many meanings, doesn’t it? I only register one. See below.

The capitalist, on the other hand, is primarily motivated by money or material goods, affluence, and privilege. One might even say that to the capitalist, these material gains ARE love.

As Thoth the Atlantean once wrote, nothing there is below thee but a different operation of the law. The law is love. We’ve known that for millennia. No matter how much money the artist has, abstract numbers and dollar signs float around in the ether devoid of meaning until they feed the hungry, develop a project, or are manifested in something real, which is a product of love. That is the only use for the acquisition of money.

The capitalist, on the other hand, finds the idea of love quite perplexing. What is love? How can I quantify it? How can I spend or trade it? Moreover, how can I own it? Money is much easier to handle. I can check my account and see how much of it I have. I can’t do that with love, can I?

So, the capitalist learns a trade, say, painting, guitar playing or singing. He studies the status quo and learns from it. He attempts to fashion a high-quality product for mass consumption. He checks his account and watches the numbers in his ledger get bigger. He becomes happy when he has been compensated well for his hard work.

The artist called capitalist has become unhappy in decades of late. People now get media for free. Many artists are distributing their music for free. No longer can the capitalist simply learn a trade, promote his excellence, and be compensated duly. Now he needs to learn about love, something that he has been putting off for entirely too long. He finds the idea of spontaneously playing a free show in the park with no planning repugnant. There are municipal bylaws! There is no profit to be made! Somebody needs to alert the vendors! Someone needs to promote the tour! NO! YOU CAN’T JUST DO THIS! IT IS TOO ERRATIC! I DON’T UNDERSTAND IT!

Painting ze yin und yangNO, he cries, I WILL NOT JUST HELP PEOPLE REALIZE THEIR DREAMS AND LET THEM HELP ME! I NEED TO KEEP TRACK! I NEED TO ACCOUNT FOR INFLATION, GET A PROMOTION, GET A RAISE, AND RETIRE IN TAHITI! ACCOUNTS AND BALANCES, PEOPLE! YOU CANNOT PAY THE BILLS WITH LOVE! YOU PEOPLE ARE GODDAMNED CRAZY!

Meanwhile, the artist does what she always has done. She walks the land, giving and receiving love. Oh, yes, and there were times when we were burned for it. And it could happen again. Nothing inspires more fear than the thought that what one has worked hard for could fall apart.

Siva-sakti, you told us this is what love really is… the acceptance that what we have worked so hard for could crumble at any moment. That is the truth of creation, destruction and rebirth. Please help us all to see this.

morning dates = awesome

Lace and I went out to see the falling cherry blossom petals this morning. ❤

Image

It all started because I woke up too early. I didn’t know what to do. I took my shower, did stretches, made my coffee, and sat in my clam shell sipping and looking out the window. Lace was there on the balcony. I looked at her wheel and the triangle of her frame and thought about reading for a bit. Then I thought, why not take Lace out around the lake?

When we started the sky turned my favorite shade of grey, dark and foreboding. Then lightning split the sky and from the rift successive blankets of hard-hitting rain baptized us. With the rain, the final cherry blossom petals departed from their homes and flew on twirling wisps of wind around us. The bite of cold is gone from the air, and the only sensation in my skin was the soak of raindrops.

Coming back against the wind, my mouth filled with droplets, water coming down harder than before. Every part of me was drenched. Lace’s brakes whined a little in the final stretch. Sorry, sweetie, we’ll be home soon.

Back at home, we dried off with a warm, fluffy towel and I sipped a bit more before going to work. Coming down from that has left me passive and ready to rest. But my day has just begun…

cultural confusion holiday love

I am the mad story-stealer! I was given this tale by a coworker who began taking English classes last year. Since then, she has really taken to the English language through much discipline and practice. I was quite amazed to hear her tell this story. I’ll admit to adding some details, but the story structure is completely hers, and she told it completely in English 🙂

Min-hu was a retailer of children’s books back then. He led a quiet, simple life. He loved having conversations about interesting things with the people who came into his shop. He spoke a little English, but not much.

Greta was a teacher of English from Germany who loved to learn languages and explore new cultures. She had spent her life traveling, a life which had brought her here to Min-hu’s bookstore in a quiet little South Korean town in Jeollabukdo.

Greta began to speak with Min-hu this fateful day, partly in Korean and partly in English. Min-hu was happy to speak to this warm, kind foreigner who had a great love for her new home of Korea and children’s books. She was teaching kindergarten in those days and had come to select the right picture book for her students.

She spoke with the gentleman behind the counter. A conversation began to emerge about the season, the cold and snow, and how in Germany it is a custom to invite friends to one’s house to warm up with a hot beverage. Greta told Min-hu that she would love it if he came over to her home, as a friend, and enjoy some tea and snacks. Min-hu was delighted to accept the invitation from the stranger. He looked forward to having some practice speaking English and possibly making a new friend.

Greta went home and prepared the ingredients for tea and snacks. She wondered what Min-hu would think of the Christmas decorations she had put all around her apartment. At the agreed-upon time of 7:30 pm, Min-hu rang Greta’s doorbell. When Greta opened the door, Min-hu was overwhelmed by what he experienced.

In the air, he could smell baking ingredients like cinnamon, clove, and vanilla. The entire apartment was lit in rich amber light, and beautified with red, gold and green decorations. Awestruck, he slowly entered the apartment where there was a small tree on a table wrapped in lights in front of small fragrant pine cones sitting around to decorate the space. On each surface, a red votive sat and burned away. In bowls, there were piles of mandarin oranges, nuts and soft sweet bread. Candies sat in smaller bowls with mint candy sticks, and three large red socks adorned the window. There were lights around the windows, each with a distinct colour: one red, one green and one blue.

Greta served tea. The amazed bookseller wasn’t really sure what to say. This woman he had just met had gone to so much trouble for this evening. She loves me, he thought.

After the pleasant conversation and tea with snacks, Min-hu went home, unable to think properly. Here, this beautiful stranger had worked so hard to tell him she was interested in having a relationship with him, but he didn’t say anything in response. What she must be feeling now– hurt, rejected, unappealing– why, that would be terrible. He quite enjoyed her company, but he never expected foreign women to be so direct!

He had to show her somehow that he reciprocated her feelings. What does a man buy for a woman to show that he feels affection for her? He thought of it. Of course. Lingerie.

The next day he went and purchased some lingerie and wrapped it neatly in a package. He called Greta and told her he would love to meet again. She agreed. He went to her home the following Wednesday evening, and as before, it had been decorated and filled with sweets. He gave her the present and she thought to herself, “Oh, what a nicely wrapped present. He must celebrate Christmas the same way we do in the West.”

There was a little confusion on both sides. Min-hu hadn’t understood why Greta’s apartment looked, smelled and felt so warm and inviting. Greta didn’t think it strange to receive a present so close to the holiday. All this confusion would be unraveled with the pulling of the ribbon from the neatly wrapped, brightly coloured package. Once Greta opened the gift, she drank in the sight of the adult apparel. It was obvious how Min-hu felt, and she instantly realized how Min-hu must have been confused. “No matter,” she thought.

“I think you were confused, Min-hu. During the holiday time, it is common for Westerners to decorate their homes, bake, and put out goodies. But don’t be embarrassed. I want to teach you about another custom you might not know about. Do you see that little bundle of leaves above us?”

Greta pointed up to the beam above them where a little mistletoe was wrapped with yarn, hanging from a small nail. She explained the tradition, and then demonstrated it.

You know, Greta and Min-hu are married these days, and they still love to find out new things about each other’s culture, and other cultures around the world.