NIETZSCHE THE SUPER-TWEETER

Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900), if he were alive today, would be the ultimate tweeter. Tweets, text based posts of up to 140 characters, would be the perfect vehicle for the philosopher, whose book, The Gay Science, is filled with short, snappy, witty, biting, elegantly written observations. Some selections follow.

189 The Thinker - He is a thinker; that means he knows how to make things simpler than they are.

207 The Envious - He is envious, let us hope he will not have children, for he would envy them because he cannot be a child anymore.

232 Dreams - Either we have no dreams or our dreams are interesting. We should learn to arrange our waking life the same way: nothing or interesting.

240 At the Sea - I would not build a house for myself, and I count it part of my good fortune that I do not own a house. But if I had to, then I should build it as some of the Romans did--right into the sea. I should not mind sharing a few secrets with this beautiful monster.

241 Work and Artist - This artist is ambitious, nothing more. Ultimately, his work is a magnifying glass that he offers everybody who looks this way.

247 Habit - Every habit lends our hand more wit but makes our wit less handy.

248 Books - What good is a book that does not even carry us beyond all books?

268 What makes one heroic? Going out to meet at the same time one's highest suffering and one's highest hope.

274 What do you consider most humane? To spare someone shame.

275 What is the seal of liberation? No longer being ashamed in front of oneself.

WHO IS MY READER?

If I write for readers, I must give some thought to who they are. Do I have an ideal reader? Readers come in all types. Do I write for family? Do I write for friends? Do I write for strangers? Family, friends, and strangers--that's potentially a lot of different sorts of people.

Let's focus a little. Readers would probably belong a certain social class, because generally you have to be rich enough to have access to a computer, with excess time on your hands (If you're Canadian, you probably owe $1.45 on every $1.00 of disposable income--stats from a CCPA article.). Probably a certain educational level (incredibly the UNICEF says one out of five adults are illiterate, two thirds of them women). Probably speakers of English, the de facto global language, whether we like it or not (Mark Kingwell says that language determines, in a larger part than we would care to accept, what we can think and the ideas we can have) . Probably a certain generational category--probably not my grandmother's generation.

Now, the real tricky delicate part: what about structure/level of consciousness? Probably the rational to pluralistic structure--orange to green levels of consciousness--our N. American culture's centre of gravity (from various developmental studies, see integralinstitute.org). But perhaps readers could be coming from a mythical or magical level (which is just fine and appropriate), especially when it comes to faith and religion.

If I write about religion (it was just Easter Sunday), how then do I approach it? Matters of faith, big picture questions, questions of ultimate purpose, God, Allah, Jehovah, Brahman, Great Spirit, and so on. Sprituality and religion are difficult to write about, because various levels are open to hearing different things! If I write about Jesus, do I talk about the magical Jesus (beloved of pre-conventional or egocentric stages), or mythic Jesus (of absolutic conventional religion), the mental-rational or historical Jesus (of Vatican II or Jesus Seminar), or perhaps some kind of post-rational Jesus (described by Ken Wilber, in Integral Spirituality)?

I BLOG THEREFORE I AM

Why write? Why blog?

My Grade 10 English teacher encouraged us to keep a journal as a tool for increasing self awareness. "Journal to clarify your thinking. After you've completed journal entries, you have a mirror you can hold up to yourself." I had a crush on that teacher, which probably explains why I still remember those words.

Some twenty odd years later, having kept an irregular journal, I read a passage in Mark Kingwell's book Opening Gambits that recalled my teacher's words:

I know students are lying or confused when they say, as they so often do: I know what I think, I just can't express it. But I say to them: no. Until you can express it, you haven't really had the idea. You may have had an inkling, or an intimation, or a glimmer, or a sense of possibility; but not a thought. To really have an idea, you must give it expression in language, whether you write it down or not; and only by writing it down will you know the precise contours of the idea, as opposed to its vague outline. As Wittgenstein put it in the Tractatus Logico Philosophicus: " Everything that can be thought at all can be thought clearly. Everything that can be put into words can be put clearly."

After I read that, I resolved to write when I got home. But not in my journal--in the blog instead. Yes I could write in the journal, and I still do (the real private stuff). However, the blog dangles another carrot: potential readers. Because there could be readers, I force myself to think clearer, up the ante, clean up my act, organize better the old canoodle, craft better. And didn't Alberto Manguel write something about readers being the ones who bring a book to life in the creative act of reading? It makes the solitary act of writing somehow communal, because I'm already thinking of the reader. So, it's more...fun!

Therefore: I blog to clarify my thoughts and have more fun because of you my reader, who through the act of reading, has resurrected this blog, if just for this moment.

Thank you.

The Laboratory

DO IT!
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Ask a question using 4 words or less, but not more.

breathe in

breathe out

breathe in

breathe out

breathe in

breathe out

breathe in

breathe out

breathe in

breathe out

breathe in

breathe out

breathe in

breathe out

breathe in

breathe out

breathe in

breathe out

breathe in

breathe out

breathe in

breathe out

breathe in

breathe out

Go back to the Question,

Or

Turn the Page.

(By Amy E. Cohen and Francisco Varela, 1995)

Taken from the Video: "Monte Grande", about the life of Francisco Varela

DVD 501 MON

The Terrifying and the Sublime--Life as an Orchestral Percussionist

Saturday night. Carmina Burana. Jack Singer.

I review my set up: snare drum, triangle, suspended cymbal, glockenspiel, tam tam, mallets. All is well. I smile at one of the pianists. I take a few deep breaths. I say my process cues: "Energy. Connect. Go for it." The conductor begins the piece; the timpanist and pianists unleash the electrifying opening. Breath is normal. My tam tam notes are fine.

Pick up the snare drum sticks. CRAP: already the fight or flight response kicks in. My heart rate increases, trembling increases. I get through the snare drum movement. Sub optimal performance--my first entrance dragged. I pick up the triangle. I'm still trembling. There's a ball of fire in my chest. I try to calm down. "Calm down!" I'm screaming at myself. I picture sandy beaches. My trembling relaxes a little. "Calm down." I command, more calmly. I get through the triangle movement.

Glockenspiel. Hands still trembling. I try to breathe deeply and relax. I get through it. Slightly better.

I sit. My hands are still trembling. My mind is racing. Despair hovers. "This is not fun. What's happened to me in the last month? Two orchestra shows with the shakes. They weren't good performances. Will I be hired again? Maybe I should've gotten those beta-blocker drugs for today. Can I even get through this show? Something's broken inside."

But I just got through those movements of Carmina. More sandy beaches. Waves. The Cayman Islands. "I can do it," I say to myself. I try the litany: "I've prepared, I've practiced, I've done this a thousand times before, I can do this."

I smile at one of the pianists, try to connect to his energy and sense of fun and play. Hands trembling less. More snare drum movements. Despite the jittery start I'm actually calm now. Confidence starts to build.

And somehow, fighting through the terror and despair, I finally find the zone. The elusive zone. I've been there before. Is it the "optimal performance" state people talk about? Perhaps. I'm calm. I'm confident. I look forward to playing the next notes. I can feel a certain energy, as if I'm part of a river. Everything is clear around me. I hear and see and connect. I go for it. I'm excited. There is no fear. My muscles execute and cooperate. Endorphins releasing? Feels so good. So good to perform in this space. I used to play "here" all the time.

The rest of the piece goes extremely well. Carmina Burana ends. The audience gives us a standing ovation. I'm elated. I couldn't believe I got through the terror. Did more. I found the elusive zone. The previous concert I couldn't release the fear.

A choir director congratulates me on my triangle and glock playing.

The terrifying and the sublime.

If only I could experience just the sublime. But then, maybe the terrifying intensifies the sublime?

Is Being Happy Vulgar?

Orhan Pamuk, Turkish writer, Nobel Prize winner, wrote in his collection of essays, "Other Colors", that people capable of happiness are either stupid or evil. My heart skipped a beat when I read that. But he follows with a lighter thought: that, perhaps being happy is not vulgar, that it actually "takes brains".

I began to wonder how many of my friends and acquaintances are happy. And what does that mean, to be happy? Is it just being cheerful? Or is there another layer, something more like joy perhaps? And how do we find that? Most people I know seem to lead lives that settle around a certain emotional centre of gravity. There are some who seem to be struggling with a terrible anger. Others flattened by depression. Some seem emotionally disconnected (I believe most of us probably have disowned shadow aspects). Some seem actually joyous. Happy. The whole gamut.

How do we develop our emotional set point, our emotional centre of gravity? Is it partly in the genes? Somehow connected to the collective genetic pool? In terms of the physicality of their face, why is it that some people can smile :) more easily, while others can frown :( and lower the corners of their mouths more easily? So perhaps partly biology, chemicals, and hormones. And perhaps it is partly environmental factors: emotional zones at work, play, or home; the techno-economic base we live in. Perhaps it is partly personal choices, and brains, and thinking. Good heavens, thinking! And maybe--not thinking! What about various spiritual practices? Or is there something else too? So then, all of it?

Now the big question: can we shift that emotional set point? Is it possible? How?

Complex. Complicated. So many factors to consider.

I believe it is possible--in my case it took probably at least five years of conscious effort, with lots of setbacks. It takes work and hope, and like Orhan, I believe it takes brains.

At least.