Find Yourself

My friend Kelly is amazing. She compiled some already-created images with some newly-created (or tweaked) ones and produced this:

Epic!

Science and Buddhism/Meditation

 I found this excerpt about an article dealing with the interactions of the right and left side of the brain on The Buddhist Blog:

Enlightenment has been described in many ways, but what is common to most descriptions of enlightenment is a change in the sense of ‘self,’ and a sensation of a release from suffering. An enlightened person is said to no longer identify with herself as the individual she once was. She is also said to no longer experience negative thoughts.

Our feeling part of our Self is located in the limbic system, in this case the amygdala. In most people, the left side feels pleasure or positive emotions, and the right side experiences negative emotions. In each case, the right (positive) and left (negative) components are synaptically ‘wired’ to each other. Thoughts and emotions are communicated back and forth between both sides of the the brain along the synapses. Now here is where meditation impacts these processes. Most meditative practices involve techniques to de-emphasize, defuse or reduce negative thoughts. Over the long term, what this means in the brain is that the transmission of electrical impulses into both the right side (negative) of both the amygdala and hippocampus is reduced. Fewer negative feelings and thoughts, less activity along those pathways.

Published studies support the idea that long term meditation works by ‘starving’ the brain of negative emotions and expectations. So meditation not only trains us not to respond as intensely and frequently to negative thoughts and emotions, it also causes an ‘atrophying’ of our brain’s ability to process those thoughts and emotions. But the caveat here, is that it takes a lot of consistent practice over the long term.

chasing beams of sunshine after the rain

I guess it's time for my yearly spring semester emotional break down. Maybe I haven't broken down like this in years past, but I remember how hard each spring semester is for me. This semester has been really difficult.

Breaking up with Chelsi, reordering my personal life, getting lonely and re-learning to appreciate solitude, trying to figure out my entire future by planning next school year, struggling in classes, struggling at work, fighting growing negative thoughts about my body and shape, living in a homophobic environment, wading through classes completely filled with assumptions and expectations that clash with my religious beliefs, quitting smoking, learning how humanity inflicts harsh cruelty on itself and others, hurting for those whose souls are ravished because they weren't born white, straight, male, upper class, able-bodied, whatever. There's more that makes me want to break down and cry (like I just finished doing). There's also a lot of beauty in the world. I just am having a hard time thinking of it right now.

Mad World by Alex Parks

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
And their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

I want some sunshine.

Chelsi and I broke up tonight. I don't feel the way I thought I would, and the release I felt when I first made the decision is absent. I don't really feel right now, except maybe a bit of negative energy. Maybe I just need sleep and serotonin.

I got a note from the deans tonight, explaining that I need to make another appointment with Linda B. Wondering what now? I talked to Dean M. Apparently they assumed I wasn't serious about quitting smoking and hadn't talked to Stan yet. Confused and slightly insulted (especially at the continued skepticism and slight sternness), I explained that I had had my first session last week and we're scheduled to meet every Thursday. I don't have to see LB now.

I'm tired. So tired. And empty. Done. Ready for change and sunshine. Where is the fucking sunshine? 

:-)

It's been a while since I've felt how I feel now.

While the last -who knows how long- hasn't found me as tense and agitated as I felt today, I still haven't felt this balanced since the beginning of school. I feel good. Completely at peace. I want to go more into depth, but don't really know what to say. What else needs to be said? Confusion has vanished, and my tension along with it. Although some days humanity's harsh inhumanity makes me cringe, there are nights like tonight that I cannot begin to describe people's capacity for warmth, comfort, understanding, empathy, love. People like Michael, Tiffany, Kaity, and Z.

Maybe that doesn't even make sense. I suppose it doesn't really need to. All that needs to make sense is my appreciation of this new-found peace.

(--<)

I've realized that by the end of the week, because that's what we've decided Friday to be, all I desire is company. Not just any company. Very specific company.

Silence.
My thoughts.
Words on a page, digital or paper.
Feelings of peace.
Feelings of space.
My record player, spinning away my stress.

I get claustrophobic. People talking to me. Touching me. Loud colors and laughter. I can't breath. The rest of the week is a dream, emotions running wild without my ability to reason or even recognize the beauty and absurdities of each day. Just the presence of another person, just a tad too often, and my head is full of cotton. Forget happy place, take me to the peace place.

I understand why Buddha was the awakened one. Each moment we are at different levels of wakefulness. For me, I require Fridays and the company of solace to wake from my week. Maybe I'll never fully awaken from life like Buddha, nor view it as it truly exists without it's dreamlike qualities muddling perception.

That's quite alright. Friday loveliness steeped with lychee black tea is good enough for me. For now.

Sometimes I wish had the courage, or perhaps just filthy soul, to lie. Especially if it fixed relationships with paint. Gorrilla glue is always so much more obvious, and you can see the cracks. You can't look away from the cracks. You fall between the cracks.

And the evening and the morning were the first day.

Yesterday I was pretty down, blue, whatever word fits best. It may have been left over emotional residue from the night before. It probably had a lot to do with my energy level. I drank coffee for the first time in a long while, thinking it would give me both a boost in terms of energy and happiness. It didn't. I sort of gave up hopes of not feeling utterly cheerless.

Before I went to bed, I decided to pull out a small book of Zen quotes. I wrote these on my mirrors:

"The blue mountain bordering the sea does not move, but the mind of the bird over the waves breaks free and follows the course of the river." -Master Daishi
I love the reminder that it's not physical location, surroundings or circumstances that matters or creates freedom--it's mindset.

"What was your face before the birth of your parents?" -Koan

Then I meditated. Sitting there in the darkness, a series of thoughts flashed through my mind as I watched. "Listen to the stories of the universe." I wrote that on my mirror too. I'm not very good at listening. I'm good at talking, but not skilled. I just tend to interrupt, speak out, respond to questions not directed at me, etc quite a bit. I don't mean to, or think about it, but it just seems to flow out of me (particularly when I have energy). I wonder at times how other people can stand me at all. My goal today is to create love and touch existence by listening to it. Whether its classmates, playful squirrels, friends, weather patterns--I just want to pay attention. Marvel. Appreciate. Understand, not speak. That doesn't mean I'm going to be mute all day, or even remember to pay attention. It just means today I'll be putting in extra effort.

By the end of meditation last night, and after a cup of soothing tea, I felt amazing. At peace. Happy. Content. Different. I woke this morning ready to listen.

Encouragment

"Encountering sufferings will definitely contribute to the elevation of your spiritual practice, provided you are able to transform calamity and misfortune into the path." H.H. The 14th Dalai Lama

Look within. Be still.
Free from fear and attachment,
Know the sweet joy of living in the way.
Dhammapada, Words of the Buddha

If you live the sacred and despise the ordinary, you are still bobbing in the ocean of delusion. Zen Master Lin-Chi


Anything that is created must sooner or later die. Enlightenment is permanent because we have not produced it; we have merely discovered it.
Chogyam Trungpa

"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part." St. Augustine

“You can shed tears that she is gone,
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her only that she is gone,
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what she'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.”
David Harkins

Okay, so maybe this would all be considered "emo" or whatever. Whatever. I just need to remind myself that it's okay if she doesn't come back next year. It's okay if I still care about her and let those feelings grow. I don't need to instantly recoil. Like I said in another post, I need to enjoy life instead of always think about longevity. I'll take things in stride. I will love, if it comes to it, without fear--because the ending never negates the validity and beauty of the experience.

She's not coming back next year. I don't know how to deal with this information. I guess tonight was the last straw (although we both understood, she was still unsettled by Union's misconceptions and stance I suppose). How did I let myself become this attached? I wish I hadn't quit smoking. She wishes Union was more gay friendly. I wish I was somewhere far away, where my throat didn't feel so sore--a giant pebble lodged without hint of relief. I don't want to fall for her anymore. I want my eyes to stop getting red, and I convince them that it's not yet time to crack, break and leak out salty twin streams.

"The only place you'll want to be..."

I joked with my friend Michael that I should write a book about how awesome I think he is. Then I realized I wasn't joking, and wanted to blog about it.

There's that oft-quoted saying by Aristotle that friendship is one soul dwelling in two bodies. I don't believe that. I believe friendship, like what I have with Michael, is two souls colliding and connecting in a sublime display of warm yet electric golden sunlight. Comfort and excitement.

"Run your fingers through my soul. For once, just once, feel exactly what I feel, believe what I believe, perceive as I perceive, look, experience, examine, and for once; just once, understand.” (author unknown)

Michael and I, we do run fingers through each others soul. It's not just once we are understood, nor does the experience become less amazing or surprising because of the frequency. It reminds me of multiple orgasms, actually--not that there's anything sexual between us.

I wonder what my life at Union would be like if I'd never met Michael. I don't think I'd be at the place I am now, which in turn would mean I wouldn't see or interact with the world in the same way. Usually I refrain from making any sort of definitive statement about how things would be if something were different, but I know that my quality of life (and I don't mean creature comforts) would have been drastically diminished.

I look at the spectacular ties I have with friends like Michael, ties that do not restrain nor suppress but lift and beckon; helping me walk more bravely toward sunrises I may have previously regarded with suspicion. I wonder how many more exquisite people, capable of touching cool fingers to my soul, are floating out in the world. Or across the classroom.

Tomorrow never looked so beautiful.

"Somethings gotta stop the flow"

I just saw a film. I want to insert an adjective like amazing, disturbing, heartwarming, dark, moving, or unpredictable. I don't know which one to choose, if any. I guess just Ink will do. I stumbled on it randomly, and almost didn't continue watching past a few minutes.

I decided to keep it playing after reading comments posted on Hulu's site like: "From watching the first fifteen minutes, I didn't think this movie was going anywhere. But thank goodness I didn't have anything else to do but watch the movie or else I would've missed a really great movie" and "it really took a while before the movie really picked up. This is one of those movies you'd really have to be patient with and stick with till you get it, otherwise, you'll miss how good it is in the end."

They were right. And I cried. Only two movies have ever made me cry (E.T. and The Secrets). I don't know if I want to watch it again any time soon. I just know I'm glad I watched it.

I can't articulate my thoughts right now.

It's 11:16. I just found out that Harla died earlier this afternoon. I don't know how to feel. And no one told me. I saw it on her son's facebook status. I knew she had two weeks to live--but it hasn't been two weeks yet. And the cancer hadn't seemed real. Harla hadn't felt real. She was my childhood secondmother. It's been a long time since my childhood. And now, now that I cannot say goodbye, it's all coming back. In her passing, she's re-entered my life.

She's my mom's best friend. My childhood best friend's mother. My cousin's best friend's mom. How do I say "I'm sorry for your loss" without sounding trite, without betraying my own tears? How do I express my own pain when it's all so distant? Years. Miles. Hugs. Truth.

My facebook status, left over from another day, is a quote from Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium.

"[We don't wait.] We Breathe. We Pulse. We Regenerate. Our hearts beat. Our minds create. Our souls ingest. Thirty-seven seconds, well used, is a lifetime."

I hope her last thirty-seven seconds felt like a lifetime. Why is it her lifetime has ended a rough decade after thirty-seven?

Why don't I ever say goodbye? Doris (another childhood second mother). Grandpa. I knew they had limited time. But I can't say goodbye. I can't aknowledge what's happening--until it's over. Until I am powerless. Yet I always wish we'd been given a warning with Estrella. Would I have found it in myself to do anything even if we'd been given the time and date of her accident?

Justin never got to see Harla before she died. Her oldest son. The one in jail for a crime he never committed.

I don't know what this means.

Do I cry for myself? For the family? For Harla? For my her best friend, my mom? Or for the thought that this could be not my childhood second mom, but my real mom? That one day it will?

I'm lost.

Chelsi is here. We're going to go watch The L Word. I'm going to get lost.

"I have learned kindess from the unkind"

I've learned that the truth spoken does not always mean honesty.

I've learned that the person said to be the most jealous can be the one with the most decency.

I've learned "we talked" does not always mean "communicate with words."

I've learned allowing myself to like someone when warning flags flare is still a bad idea.

I've learned bathroom stalls paint pictures like heartbruises.

I've learned it doesn't really matter.

Last night, I walked in on the girl I was seeing screwing around with someone else in the bathroom--after a week (and night) of convincing me she "likes me way more than her." Way to go miss "Oh yeah, I'm definitely a one-girl kind of girl." You should have been named Gabby Deveoux.

On a positive note, the person she was messing around with (who supposedly disliked me) came to talk to me, apologized, etc. Major (to use a sexist term for lack of a better one) balls. Have to say I respect her more than the girl I actually liked/trusted.

Now that it's morning and I've gotten sleep, I'm not distraught about it...well, as distraught anyway.

Paint me a picture with hollowed out bones
dripping with blue, mimicking tears left
untouched in my eyes.
Ask me what I love about you,
ask me.
I can hear only the silence
whispering like muffled kisses.
Zip.
I wonder why Silence has pants
and what she's doing with legs
twisted 'round yours
in a lonesome bathroom stall.
Lies can put on such a prettier smile,
too bad you broke the mirage in my eyes.
Too bad you left your lips in another girl's pocket.

fuck women.

Surprises

I met someone... AT UNION COLLEGE. Yeah, I didn't expect it either. We had briefly met the beginning of the year, but a mutual friend did us a huge favor and coordinated a re-introduction. I'm all giddy, because...well a) she's awesome and b) she goes to Union.

Enter, my hesitation (stage left).

Are we attracted to each other simply because of the setting (aka, nobody else at Union we could be interested in)? If we met randomly downtown, would we still be as interested? Even if we would not have naturally gravitated towards each other elsewhere, is that necessarily bad? Does this mean a potentially successful relationship is doomed?

I'm not sure, but I'm sure I'll figure it out eventually. I need stop over thinking this (and life in general) and just say que se ra, se ra--whatever will be, will be.

Despite my mild confusion and questions, I got sidetracked during Rhetoric class with thoughts of her.

Lips. Smile.
Flashes of identical white stones
polished to a sterling gleam
Do you clean them with purity
found in an open mind?
I never saw vices that looked
so much like virtues
as we sit on the box
our souls used to sleep in.
My fingers are pieces of tangled rope
drawing conclusions from the tilt
of your head.
What does it mean to be
the only apples on a tree?
The names and offenses screamed
by whispering leaves
leave bruises on our skin.
We find shelter in the unlikeliest of places
watching smoke drift like
possibilities through
our parted lips.

I was twenty (and I don't even know you)

Nineteen
by Tegan and Sara

I felt you in my legs
Before I even met you
And when I layed beside you
For the first time
I told you
I feel you in my heart,
And I don't even know you
Now we're saying
Bye, bye, bye
Now we're saying
Bye, bye, bye
I was nineteen
(call me)
I felt you in my life
Before I ever thought to
Felt the need to lay down
Beside you
And tell you I feel you in my heart,
And I don't even know you
And now we're saying
Bye, bye, bye
Now we're saying
Bye, bye, bye
I was nineteen
(call me)
I was nineteen
(call me)
Flew home,
Back to where we met
Stayed inside I was so upset
I cooked up a plan,
So good except
I was all alone
You were all I had
Love you
You were all mine
Love me
I was yours right
I was yours right
I was nineteen
(call me)
I was nineteen
(call me)

Decay

I wonder why I've been so focused on a humanitarian path. Humanity sucks. Why do I love humanity when the individuals in my life make me question global worth? Everyone disappoints, hurts, lies, drowns each other in apathy, etc. Maybe each person doesn't do it all the time, yet every second the world is filled with these actions and behaviors. And tonight, my small section of the world is certainly receiving its fair share.

If I was an alien peering into the lives of our so called "evolved/progressed" specie, I would laugh and cry at how pathetic we are.

What causes us to such lengths of patheticness? What causes people to change, or our perceptions of them, or worse--an awful combination of both?

Death dictates our lives. It's not always fear of our own lives being lost, but the death of things like relationships, memories, places, jobs, families, perceptions, and happiness alter our existances in the most profound and far reaching way.

And I can feel Death on my skin.
She is breathing rancid breath
down
down
penetrating every orifice
with her wretched poisen
spreading through my body
stop
stop
destroying everything beautiful
from the sparkling eyes
staring back at me
to the passion of the people
She eliminates the love
of nations
and replaces humanity's
nature with pure apathy
as shattered rose-colored glasses
line the streets and people begin
to recognize
ugly Death inside of eachother
I hide, but cannot hide the
from broken bits of
battered souls
left by friendships
She's torn apart
Perhaps the Dark Witch is
gone
gone
but I can still
feel Her on my skin

Rainy days often end so perfectly

I often forget why I don't like to trust people. Become attached. I fall in love (in the platonic sense) with people very easily, something I wish wasn't the case. I hurt inside right now, and don't know how to fix it.

I'm left to wonder if my insides are really so unpretty--like the men masquerading as lovers have taught me, along with strangers masquerading as family. Left to wonder if I am simply self-centered, in the negative sense.

I made a decision not to spend a year of my life serving as an Adventist missionary because I didn't think it would be best for me right now. It is self-centered, as in I made the decision with concern for my own life, but is it selfish?

I'd have felt like I was living a lie: on a mission for a god I don't believe (or disbelieve) in, stuck in a world where I cannot be silly hippy Hannah, back to the beginning of this year with its dark, stifling closet.

Maybe I wouldn't have realized how happy I can be if I hadn't found the CTT. So is it selfish to want to stay where I'm at, loved for who I am--being who I am?

Or should I sacrifice petty things like personal style and a group of accepting friends to venture into a year of service? Maybe I'd feel more strongly inclined to go if I felt my service was actually impacting peoples' lives--peace crops work, americorp, volunteering at the local fucking shelter. Stacking books and pretending to be on fire for god doesn't seem like it would help many people. If it's not helping others or me--which I think is the first step to helping others--then how is it selfish not to go? I don't fucking understand.

Any decision someone makes is geared around what they think will bring them happiness. Law school, salad instead of soup, delayed gratification and being responsible, Union over SWAU, focusing on family or work, sleeping in or waking up early.

I want to help people, yes. I want to help because I can see, hear, touch, feel their suffering and the pain rides my spine and ingrains images into my brain. I want it to stop for them, because I can empathize. Because I can empathize, it hurts me. So really, I want to help humanity, Mother Earth, and animals for selfish reasons--if that's how you look at it.

I think everyone is driven by their own desires (helping others could be dumbed down to finding happiness in happiness and well-being of others).

Or is it just me that is driven by so-called "self-centered" desires? And is focusing on what's best for you always selfish?

I'm trying to work this out with words on an electronic page, but it's not helping. I'm just getting mad, which is the feeling that springs up when I'm hurt. I'd rather feel the facade of anger than the pain it conceals.

I shouldn't be hurt, though, from someone's honest opinion. I should be grateful--see it as constructive criticism? But I can't. Especially when I don't understand the problem they point out.

Is it that I'm too afraid to admit my "brother" (who I hardly know) and my ex were right? That I'm a selfish person that treats people like dirt (brother part) and doesn't care about anybody else?

But...if that were true, then why would I even consider this nonprofit PR career path I'm going after? Why would I show up every week to Amnesty, become involved in the Peace and Social Justice Club, donate and over-tip with money I shouldn't spend, recycle, buy clothing that helps children... Or am I just trying to find excuses to convince myself that I'm not selfish?

I don't even know. I don't understand.

All I know right is that I'm fucking hurting, fucking tired, and fucking confused.

Maybe the morning will bring clarity, or at least some cheerful blue skies.