Dreaming is Believing

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I mentioned in a recent post that my internal clock had acquired a glitch. I am confident that it has nothing to do with the current coronavirus. I say that because first, we don’t really seem to have a clear notion of when and where the virus started and second, my clock has been wacky for at least months, if not longer.  And yes, wacky is an official diagnostic term, check your list of Social Security Disabilities - OK, maybe I saw it somewhere else.

Anyhow, the symptoms are these: the darkening of the sky is no indication that sweet sleep is tiptoeing over the doorstep.  This, rather, is the calling card of the “relentless wakefulness” phenomenon I mentioned in an earlier post.  I have a previously effective nighttime ritual. About a half hour prior to the moment of desired unconsciousness I do a Reike meditation - noise cancelling headphones, mellow music of some type. Thereafter I switch to calming natural sounds curtesy of the Naturespace app, and I fall asleep.  At least that is how it is supposed to work. Nowadays it is most often a prelude to a few hours of tossing and turning, interspersed with grabbing my iPad and retreating to the arcane twists and turns of my current mystery. Eventually my body gives up and somewhere around 3 or 4, I fall asleep. Those of you who have been following the Wall through any part of its two decade or so history know that posts from the tiny hours of the morning are no rarity.

The second wacky symptom is the one I referred to as “daylight’s somnolent assassin” in the futile hope that giving it a fancy name would blunt unconsciousness’s attack on my afternoons. It has yet to work - and, at 2:00 PM, I see it lurking a mere hour or so away. This symptom is characterized by much of my body mass becoming concentrated in my eyelids. "Close your eyes, you are getting sleepy, very, very, sleepy.” You know  what I mean. We have all had the experience, and in the workaday world we have found processes or products that allow us to carry on, or sneak a nap behind closed doors. Being mostly retired these days I find my couch or guest bed and check out for 90 minutes or so.

OK, here is the weird thing.  The “wake-sleep” part of my brain is so scrambled that I sometimes have a hard time distinguishing between waking-world and sleeping-world.  A very Carlos Castaneda, mystical, shamanesque space. No doubt I am obsessing over the whole issue. But I have, I think, come to a partial solution: I only dream when I am asleep. So when I find myself staring around, supine, - having just been deeply involved, usually as a younger version of myself, in intricate scenarios with either total strangers, or people who no longer inhabit my active reality, and who have just vanished - I soon realize, “Whoa, that was a weird dream!” I had been dreaming, hence, I had been asleep, and I am now awake. 

I am not really sure why I find being able to make that distinction comforting. But I do. 

Well, I can see by the clock at the top of the screen nudging up towards 3:00 pm, that it is getting close to time for me to check out of this world for awhile and see what is waiting for me on the other side of consciousness.  

Be safe. Practice social distancing. Wash your hands.  Remember, red and raw is the new beautiful.

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It Didn't Start Out This Way

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When I began this post several weeks ago none of us were wondering about how to avoid going stir crazy as we hunkered down trying to maintain “ social distance” as we tried to “ flatten the curve” of the spread of coronovirus-19. But now it seems a good way to make “hunker down time” a little more tolerable!  So here is how it went originally:

The Pen Must Pause for Poetry

Which is simply another rephrasing of the golden oldie “you’ve got to stop and smell the roses.” But just because we already know something, just because we already believe it, doesn’t mean we don’t need to dig a little deeper into the idea.  Creativity is like that.  We all know that creativity is a good thing. We look at the works of great artists, past and present, painters, dancers, musicians, writers, and are often simply stunned by the power of their creative vision. “Awesome, amazing, astonishing!” And other similar A words. “How do/did s/he/they do that?” “I wish I was that creative!”

Well, don’t be so quick to write yourself off. I’m not saying that we can all paint like Tintoretto, sculpt like Michaelanglo, rise on point like Pavlova, wail like Janis Joplin, or whip out a sonnet like the Bard. But what I am saying is that there is a precious spark of creativity that burns brightly within each of us, but one sure way to smother it is to compare our creative efforts to the luminaries like those I mentioned above.  There is a better, saner, healthier path to releasing and enjoying your own creativity. It should come as no surprise to you that I will assert that the path begins in Distilled Harmony.

The first two tenets of Distilled Harmony are Foster Harmony and Enable Beauty. And it is in those two tenets that we find the headwaters to the river of our own creativity. In this current exploration of the role of Distilled Harmony in creativity, I am going to shift our focus just a tad. Often when we consider Foster Harmony we think of an harmonic intention moving from within us outward toward others. We seek, in our behavior, to create a harmonious relationship with others - as advocated in most extant faiths and philosophies - the traditional golden rule, do unto others notion. But when we examine the relationship between Foster Harmony and creativity we need to explore internal intention. By that I mean testing the relationships between our beliefs and preferences and our artistic articulation or representation of those beliefs and preferences. That assertion may seem a little nebulous, and rightfully so, since I’m still working on it. The uncertainty comes in part from the fact that implicit in the notion of creativity is product. The meme “maker” is quite popular in my discipline (communication) these days. That is hardly surprising since the discipline comes to the attention of the general public almost entirely via media messages the construction of which, back in the 1800s when I was a student, was taught in “production” classes. A producer makes messages - hence anyone engaged in the creative production of a message is a “maker.” So if we are to understand and enhance our creativity, we need to understand what it is we wish to create. And here it is vital to note that, within the framework of Distilled Harmony, we would naturally seek to create “products” that draw upon a philosophical disposition inclined toward compassion and human kindness. 

That inclination toward compassion and human kindness necessarily follows us into our consideration of the second tenet Enable Beauty. Creativity within Distilled Harmony’s dual tenets of Foster Harmony and Enable Beauty by definition excludes any concern, other than disinterest, with the creation of products that reflect discord and/or meanness, cruelty, etc. No doubt that seems a tad arbitrary, but a cursory glance at the current mediascape sadly reveals that such discordant, abrasive messages run no risk of extinction. They will continue to thrive without our help.

So how do we enhance our “compassionately inclined creativity?”  In 1854, scientist Louis Pasteur said, “Chance favors only the prepared mind.”  What is true for science, is at least equally so for art. To give our creativity a chance to take compassionate shape we must prepare ourselves to nurture such creations. I suggest three creative spaces and/or habits that you can begin immediately. First, the one from which this post takes its title:

The Pen Must Pause for Poetry.

This notion grew out of an assignment I used to give when I taught photography. I would assign my students the “single snapshot” assignment. The assignment was simply to take a “good picture.” They had to stay within the classroom building and they could only snap the shutter once. Then we would reassemble and discuss why they took that particular photo, why they framed it the way they did etc. How the image made them feel, and what response they hoped the image would awaken in a viewer. “The Pen Must Pause“ idea is a verbal version of that exercise I do for myself.  Several times a day, I try to force myself to stop and write down a word or phrase that would enhance a poem. I know, I know, that is every bit as nebulous as a “good picture.” But it is also one of those “I know it when I see it things.” You are reading along, or listening to the lyric of a song and a word or phrase just hits you as beautiful or perfectly expressive. Those are the words I am trying to capture. Sure, I probably miss more than I catch, but I think just making the effort is worthwhile. My circadian rhythm has been turned upside down recently. The hours between midnight and 2:30 AM seem immune to sleep, while between 3 and 5 PM I have to fight for consciousness. I don’t know why, but I have thought about it and from those reflections captured these two phrases: “relentless wakefulness,” and “daylight’s somnolent assassin.” They have yet to claim a poem of their own, but they are ready to hop in should an appropriate ditty arise.

The Single Snapshot Exercise.

This is a personal version of the classroom exercise I mentioned earlier. I hesitate to even mention this exercise in this smartphone era, when we are inclined to take a picture of anything that remains still for even an instant. Then we try to figure out how we can capture our own face along with whatever it was that caught our eye. No doubt there is a macabre dark web site somewhere that collects “selfies” that resulted in something terrible happening to the photographer; “Oh, let me get a selfie with the cute grizzly bear!” Or “Let me capture a selfie with the Hogwarts train as it comes into the station!" or “Here by Niagara Falls.” You get the idea. I am NOT advocating that kind of photography. Rather I suggest trying to take a picture every day that is beautiful. It is probably best to try to avoid cute and sweet. Hopefully your life presents you with a lot of cute and sweet. In this exercise we are looking for beautiful. Remember the tenet is Enable Beauty - not enable cute, and certainly not enable myself. I worked on this exercise for several months, diligently printing out the photos, slipping them into plastic sleeves and saving them in a big three-ring binder. Now if I could only find the binder. I suppose this is a good time to point out that in both of these two exercises the process is more important than the product. It is the capture of the phrase, it is the taking of the picture that is shaping the prepared mind. It is the prepared mind that unleashes our creativity, and it is that unleashed creativity that, often unexpectedly, leaps out upon the page, the stage, the keyboard, wherever your muse calls home.

The Bibbity Boppity Boo Exercise

As we learned from Disney’s Cinderella - “Put them together and what have you got?  Bibbity,Boppity, Boo!” So you take one from column A - the words or phases you have captured, and one from column b, the snapshots, and put them together and see what you have got, bibbity, boppity, boo.  The creative intention is not to bind you to those somewhat arbitrary pairings. Rather it is to get you playing - and yes, that is the right word “playing” - with elements you have collected because they are beautiful, because they make you happy, make you smile.

Creativity is really all about freedom. Letting words and images, shapes and sounds, jumble up together. Sometimes it is just fine to let the jumble stay a jumble that just makes you smile. However, there are other times when those seeming random jumbles find a deeper and more consistent structure, a structure that your prepared mind gently and precisely pulls together into a truly beautiful construction that makes one inhale with that soft realization we so often encounter in the presence of beauty.

And moving through those three steps while staying indoors, maintaining social distance, and washing your hands after each step is how this initially unrelated Wall post can morph into a virus fighter! Stay well. Keep smiling, and wash your hands! Red and raw is the new beautiful!

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Acts of Loving Kindness

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It would be irresponsible for the Wall to ignore the COVID-19 crisis sweeping our world. So let me try to Wall it in. To manifest the primary tenet of Distilled Harmony - Foster Harmony - in a world in which all forms of human contact are frowned upon is, to say the least, tricky. What is more harmonic than a touch, a hug, a kiss? Probably nothing, but apparently we need to try to find some options.

When I think about the various ways in which one can foster Harmony, they all share one characteristic - they are all, in one way or another, acts of loving kindness. Whether we are seeking to create beauty in some artistic medium, clarifying a path to Harmony, or seeking to reduce discord, we are trying to express a love of all mankind and trying to behave in ways that manifest that love.

As we, as a global community, seek confront this bizarre event, it may be somewhat comforting to know that some simple acts of loving kindness are available to us all. First we need to lose the “me first” attitude that tends to permeate much of our competitive culture: We tend to feel that other people need to practice social distancing, other people need to adjust their use of paper products, other people need to stay home and deny themselves the regular company of friends and family. No, it cannot be just other folks, we too need reassess how we carry acts of loving kindness to those around us.

Through my daughter’s Facebook page, I have seen neat, joyful, compassionate activities being devised by and shared among the parents of young children. Also, there has been some excellent outreach in the academic community to keep courses moving along. Art galleries and museums are rushing “virtual rooms” online to bring digital versions of their collections to our various screens. These things that perhaps we should have done have finally come to life because we have to do them. If there is a silver lining to this nefarious covid-cloud, perhaps it is that we will discover and begin to utilize new positive ways of sharing our lives that reach beyond our neighborhoods, cities and states to a truly global village.

Still, there are at least a couple of areas where I remain confused. First, there seems to be some lack of clarity when it comes to family interactions. Some sources say it is good to maintain normal family interactions. But what does “normal family interaction” mean when the “normal family” means a dozen or so people across generations who live in four different houses with ages ranging from 91 to “one’s on the way”? How does “normal family interaction” mesh with social distancing? In this era of COVID-19, does loving kindness lean more toward the emotional comfort of the family, or toward the medical prescription of social distancing? Is a puzzlement! Hopefully ongoing research will guide us through these and other complex issues.

And speaking of complex issues, that older age group, of which I am one, presents it’s own issues. I mean, as cute as Daniel Tiger may be, he doesn’t lend much insight to issues of say, “Retirement in the age COVID-19” or “What sport will make my knees hurt the least?” or “Are there really no good new artists over 60?” Or “What novel do you remember from your own 20-something years that seems to have retained its legitimacy and impact and why?” (OK, I’m a college professor, I can’t help it!) Anyhow, I’m thinking that some digital face-to-face around senior friendly topics could spread a nice bit of loving kindness among the golden set. Perhaps I need to take my own advice here. Your suggestions are most welcome!

So, as we continue to figure out this new reality, we can probably make better decisions about life in general if we remember to foster harmony guided, in all our actions, by the common sense dictates of loving kindness.

Oh, and in closing, I should point out that I think a sense of humor is essential to staying focused on acts of loving kindness.  So - 

A guy walks into a bar.

Bartender: What will you have?

Guy: Gimme a Corona.

Bartender: You sure?

Guy: Positive.

Bartender: Sorry, we can’t serve your kind in here.

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And Since We Are Talking About Memory and Metaphor

Let us not forget about “losing your train of thought.” It seems to grow increasingly germane. I’ll be cruising along in my mind, cooking nicely, one thought leading to the next, occasional interesting leaps and cross overs. Then, wham, like a figure skater catching an edge, or Zion blowing out a sneaker, I jump the tracks - I mean completely. It’s not that I just lose track of what I was thinking about a few minutes ago over coffee up in the dining car, or who was ahead in Arlo’s card game with the old men in the club car, or what the Gambler was telling Kenny about holding or folding. No, nothing that simple - the whole freaking train is gone!  Empty rails behind me and leading forlornly ahead out to the horizon. 

If I stop cold and consciously think about nothing at all, I can sometimes catch a faint rumble vibrating up from the tracks. Maybe the shimmering of a phrase or the fragment of an idea. And if I’m really lucky I might glimpse a stray boxcar or a deserted caboose pulled off on the siding. But truth be told, that train is pretty much lost.

It is both frightening and frustrating. I mean it was my train. So, to guard against these disconcerting derailings, I have taken to carrying a spare brain with me. And by that I do not mean my “i”s - phone or pad - though both are usually close at hand. I mean a pocket-sized analog notebook with a pen clipped to it. Unlike its digital brethren, when I use these pages to scribble down notes regarding a few cars of a rumbling train of thought, the notebook brain neither corrects my punctuation nor suggests other tangentially related trains of thought that its algorithms indicate I might find equally intriguing! 

For example, last night, in a dream, I had written a couple of poems about chickens that my older brother - who fortunately remains quite alive in my dreams - found delightful. But when I tried to recite them for him, bam! Off the rails! Well, that might not be the best example. But you get the general idea. .  .  . So, damn .  .  . Where did I put my brain? Chickens, they were definitely about chickens, or maybe turkeys, Geese? Something with feathers. Or something we eat. Maybe beef?  Pizza? Where the heck is my freaking brain?