the stories

behind

the reasons we hide

the tales of our “downfalls”

the times that we cried

the endless pursuit of

ephemeral bliss

that thing we all grope for

that thing we all miss

some surely find it

someone still sees

the secret of love

god built in the trees

some people come here

to set us on fire

they love and they help us

attain our desire

reminding us

that finding us

is only the start

and showing us

that knowing us

comes from the heart

Hmm. I guess that’s it. Hopefully more regularly posted stuff to come!

I have been spending quite a bit time knitting (and failing at knitting), playing the Viola, and writing, not to mention thinking, dancing, singing, meeting new and incredible people, and saving the world by holding the door for oner person at a time.  Aside from this, I have little to report.  I’m going to show you the comic and wish you a lovely day!

Chapter 3:

Trunkenkuss is a German name.  A fake German name.  Alex Trunkenkuss, as he preferrs to be called, has not heard his real name uttered since before he ever knew Dr. Margana had been watching him.

Alex started walking towards his shadow and continued on that path for three hours; the sun had reached its peak and then some.  Eventually an old green Honda Civic zoomed past from behind, screeched to a halt, and traced a crooked path back to where he stood.  From roughly the middle of the road, a woman hollered out the open passenger side window.

“You look lost, honey.  You don’t belong out in this sun!”

Alex tried his best to respond politely, “I’m kinda a long way from home.  Are you offering me a ride or what?”

The driver responded as she felt appropriate to the Trunkenkuss attitude, opened the door, and started driving as soon as the passenger seat was occupied.  Examining his new ride, Alex noted first the Christian music playing just loud enough to hear the lyrics.  Your sins are gone without a trace.  There’s nothing left now, there’s only grace. Alex laughed audibly; his driver made no sign of hearing.  The next noteable thing to notice about the car was that the back seats had been removed, their space being occupied by a hodge podge of unkempt newspapers, fliers, and books.

Wondering where on earth he was, Alex reached into his pocket for a cigarette.  He exhaled the first drag and said, “You don’t mind if I smoke.” It was almost a question.  The driver swallowed, looked at the rosary hanging from her rear-view window, and smiled.  “Where the fuck are we, anyway?”  Alex said as he let smoke seep from his lips and nose.   “And what year is it?”

—-

Gah.  I need to get this chapter over with.  I will write more later– this car ride is aggrivating!  It’s based loosely on my hitchhiking experience, though I wasn’t an ass to the poor lady in the car.  I purposefully left money on the seat when I got out of the car.  I don’t think she’ll know that was my gift to her, but it was all I had.    Anyway.  More exciting stuff to come.  This chapter kinda sucked.

As always, critiques welcome!

I have fallen in love with a band called Birdlips.  I went and bought their album from iTunes just recently.  Un. Be. Leivable.

I arrived at Spaghettifest with my friend Laura not long after it started.  At first there was only 1 stage being used.  Perhaps 30 people stood awkwardly in front of Secret Ninja Death Squad as they did their Screamo/Hardcore thing.  I enjoyed it very much and met a new friend who is in love with Circle Takes the Square as much as I am — a rare find.

I was enjoying the beautiful people as a wandered around the HUGE Natural Chimneys camp-site.  After returning to our (JMU Earth Club’s) specific camp site, I played with a puppy, met some more beautiful people, collected fire wood (it was VERY wet this weekend, and I was sure it would also be fairly cold.  I was criticized, even by my friends, for trying to find wood in the rain, but thanked when night fell) ate some spilled salsa from the ground with a large group of people (Earth Club people are like me!  I don’t feel like such a freak any more!) despite the rocks and dirt and grass we also consumed.  Soon, I mosied my way over to the acoustic stage, which was now operating and making some lovely sounds.

Only a handful of people were sitting at the amphitheater for the Acoustic Stage.  I guess people felt awkward sitting so close to the performers., too, since nobody was in the first three rows.  When I first heard the sound of Birdlips, I walked to the front of the pack of people and sat myself down.  This guys voice, his guitar, his girlfriend’s harmony, her keyboard/tambourine addition….  Augh!  I have never been so captivated by music before.  Granted, I had never really attended any good live music, let alone been submerged in a huge live music festival.  Nonetheless, Birdlips are talented; this can’t be understated.

That I bought a T-Shirt should say enough about how much I liked ‘em.  I don’t buy things these days, usually.  (Except just recently a dress and a skirt that were both so amazingly perfect for me…)

ANYWAY.   Much later, after I had finished really listening to music, I was sitting, soaking in the rain, under a faulty rain tarp, sitting next to a young man who would later sexually harass me, talking to many beautiful people, rather enjoying my environment but for the cold and misery…….  When I look up and my friend is totally naked.  Hmmm, I thought.  She wasn’t naked when I last looked up.  How odd.

Then I look to my right — More nakedness.   Insane.  It is WAY too cold to remove my jacket, I thought, let alone get naked and go run in the rain.  “Aren’t you cold?”  I ask stupidly.  “Of Course!” A chorus of naked girls emerge from the dark and respond.  I notice that I’m just about the minority being of the clothed type.  I notice also that my friend is VERY close to removing her garments.  I feel that tingle in the back of my mind that reminds me to figure out what I REALLY want to do.

I am already completely wet and totally cold.  I envy the people before me for their comfort with their bodies and their acceptance of the occasion as a beautiful opportunity to cast off all their chains.  This particular weekend, Spaghettifest in its entirety, has been a huge lesson for me — helping me to accept the weirdo natural soul that I am.  I guess I wasn’t ready to cross the threshold that these people had.

I mention dying to the self in the title of this post because I realized that night that the only way for me to dance at a music festival in the rain and in the nude would be if I cold get closer to truly letting my true self break free from my mundane and physical self.  What I needed to do was break free of all social constructs that say running around naked in the rain is weird or wrong; what I needed to be was free.  As far as the physical restrictions go, I am sure I would have survived unscathed after running in the freezing cold rain.  I am sure I would have looked back at that moment with pride and joy.  I am sure if I could have let go of the concept of ideal happiness and enjoyed the perfect happiness in every moment, I would be writing about how I DID run naked, rather than wanted to.  I am learning more and more every day that it is necessary to die to your “self” and embrace your REAL self — the one that is intimately connected to and part of the living universe, the living God, the Tao, and Brahman.

So here I write, hoping I have learned that lesson more fully.  When my next chance to be free comes around, I hope and pray I have the strength to open the cage that has been unlocked from day 1, emerge from my bondage, and be.

So I’m writing this long after the events have actually occurred; I thought to do this at first to make sure I could contemplate the facts and relay them accurately with a clear head. Eventually, that train of thought lead to my ruin, and I have a great deal of distance between the events and the recording of them. Boo hoo. Here goes, anyway.

I have been thinking about this day — this day I made, since at least fifth grade. I wonder what it’s like to be blind. I think that would be a really interesting and different existence. The world must look so different when you don’t have eyes to see it!

There was never a right time to do it, I felt. I wanted to experience the world whilst being blind, not just laying around the house doing nothing because I’m unable to see. By the time I had spend two weeks at JMU, I knew my friends, my disposition, my emotional state, my frame of mind, etc., were right for this to happen.

“Guys, will you help me be blind for a day? Two Fridays from now I will be putting a blindfold on at Midnight and I’d really appreciate your help since I wont be taking it off for 24 hours.”

My friends lovingly obliged. I immediately leaned a lesson about *planning* (I’ve inserted those stars because I hope to make a post explaining this later…) and I knew from then on that I’d be learning quite a bit from this experiment.

I “chose” Saturday as my day so that I’d be able to take my time getting from place to place, potentially use the same guide to help me from place to place (and they wouldn’t have to leave me alone because they were going to class or something) and I’d potentially be able to spend the night with someone if I couldn’t get a walk back to my room. This eventually turned out to be useless, since I had times of being a lone, and I didn’t spend the night with anyone else. I guess it was nice to feel no pressure getting from place to place, though. Maybe my next experiment will happen on a weekday.

Gah! On to the day.

“Okay guys, I’ll see you in 24 hours.” I say this as I roll up the cow-pattern bandana and lay it over my eyes. The dorm room held 5 people, talking, laughing, enjoying the evening… Within the first five minutes I understand somewhat of what I will be facing for the next 24 hours. My friends Laura and Nick decide to join me in darkness for a while, so they place blindfolds on and we clumsily crawl around the room for a bit. The conversation focuses around the interesting experience of not knowing where anyone or anything is for just a bit.

I ask my friend Adella a question… No reply. She and the fourth friend, I find out later, had been out of the room for a number of minutes already. This suddenly made me feel very vulnerable. At first I was worried about the cluelessness with which I would be stuck for the next 23 hours and 50 some minutes, but that feeling quickly shifted to worry about how liked I was by the friends in the room.

Someone decides to go for a snack. I hear the sound of something crunchy and wonder what it could be. “Oooh! Let’s see if Billy can figure out what were eating!” Laura says in her usual manner of speaking. I agree; pretty sure I’m listening to the sound of a Goldfish (Baked and made with real cheese) being munched. When the baby carrot lands in my mouth, the texture is entirely unexpected. Again, my first instinct is to assume some trick has been played on me. These two incidents epitomize the way I this handicap made me feel all day.

I realize explaining in this detail would be entirely boring for both you and me, so I will go at break neck pace (compared to how the day progressed for me). Here are the more memorable and interesting things that happened from one midnight to the next.

For starters, the walk home was fairly enjoyable. I learned that a) my friend Lisbeth is not a great guide, especially when she can’t see due to the darkness of night. I fell down three sets steps whilst she said, “ummm look out, there are stairs happening soon.”

b) would have to be that eyes are usually necessary for walking in straight lines for me, since I could not do this on the walk home with Lisbeth.

All in all, though, thanks for the help, dear.

When I woke up, I managed to find my way to the shower with my shampoo and what not – I am proud of that. I took off the blindfold and kept my eyes closed whist I showered. I manage to get out of my building clean and incident free minus hitting a poor guy with my cane while he was using the urinal.

Outside was big and scary — I tried to walk with a cane against the curb until I reached my friends dorm. This seemed logical until I started hearing the 700 girls a couple dozen feet down the road — It was time for Fall Rush for the sororities. I sat down and tried to call Adella to come and get me. Instead, I called my friend Caleb twice. I shrug and wait for someone to pass by, ask her to help place a call, and then I tell Addie to come save me.

Brunch was as enjoyable and difficult as expected. We played a little game of Guess The Food, which I enjoyed except the cherry tomato, which I spit out.

After Brunch, it was time to go to town. I was the only one who knew how to get to the building at which the bus stopped, so finding the place was a lot of fun. The bus was empty and fun — someone apparently started pounding on the bus windows to harass their friend, who was driving the bus. This thoroughly scared me, Nick, Laura, and Allison — the only of our crew who had decided to go down town.

Once downtown, I bought some 1$ sandals, helped Allison pick out some sunglasses (based on how they felt on her face) and got yelled at by a horrible lady at Goodwill. You are apparently not allowed to sleep on the furniture in Goodwill – to do so will earn you a nasty scolding. This was the only time all day I wanted to remove my bandana. I NEEDED to get out of that store and away from that lady, but I had no clue where in the store I was or where my shoes even went. I toughed it out and sat uncomfortably until Laura came and found me. She walked me outside, where I sat for a bit listening to some lady talk her friend through some difficulties I didn’t need to hear about.

As it turns out, the bus had stopped running and we had to walk the mile back to campus. I held Allison’s arm and began to march. In order from good to bad, I preferred Allison, Nick, then Laura. Laura earned her place at the end after she let me walk directly into so many things.

Wow. I just realized how boring of a post this is. Trudge along, Billy. Trudge along.

Okay. So meals when you can’t see are really fun. I had people get my food for me and had to ask many times whether or not I had finished my food. I’m realizing now that this post is terrible so I’m finishing it up quickly.

In fact, this will be it. I learned a lot of lessons that I don’t really care to share with the entire world. Being blind is extremely humbling, confusing, exhausting, and causes many insecurities to surface. I would do it again, and very well may do so. Someday I will do it in conjunction with several other handicaps.

Time to close this post and cover it with better, more entertaining stuff. Thanks for the read!

Is it worse to have too much to do or too little to do? No, I suppose I am making distinctions there and that feels, for whatever reason, like the wrong path to follow. Bah. Wrong path. Another distinction. Why do I feel making no distinctions is better than making distinctions? Perhaps when I grasp this concept, I will be a Buddha. (Why would one want to be a Buddha in a distinctionless existence!?) Augh!

You see that? That is perhaps the exact reason I haven’t been updating Rumbelow in so darn long. I have been plagued by various terrrrrrible (and empty) things that have ruined my study, sleeping, eating, and living habits. One monster is the source of all this; life.  She is confusing, she is overwhelming, she is… gah.  She is life.

I have so, so, sooooo much to write, but I need to study study study, instead. I will leave one of the countless poems I have written up for you now, and tell you guys later about my day of blindness, my tattoo, my trip to an independent music festival (and therefore the discovery of countless amazing musicians), the various daily lessons I keep learning, as well as introduce some new quirks I have picked up in the past weeks.

As for now, I’ll leave the poem. Before that— little thing of the day that reminds me that life is good: I saw two turtles basking in the sun on a rock. =D

This poem is about the most beautiful leaf I have ever had the privilege of holding in my hand. Leaves are such good reminders of the ephemeral nature of this supposed existence.

A leaf

In dying she became her most true self

Her colors just bled out

Nothing left to hide, she shed

Every

Trace

Of doubt

“This is who I am!” She’d scream

“This is who I’ve been.

Now my veins have just stopped working

Resistance grows so thin.”

And even in her fragile state

Her spirit yearned to soar.

“Not with me here,” I’d reply

You don’t need me any more.

As autumn changes all your colors

I deny your failing health.

Yet you embrace the changing season

and embrace your perfect self.

More to come. Much, much more to be said.

P.S.  Happy Jewish New Year!

My spirit tells me that I’m supposed to do homework instead of wasting so much time online.  This will be a major challenge this semester.  <sigh>

Okay.  Well I have been using Stumble! to kill time since it gives me informative pages relative to my interests, spreading from pages about Shamanism, photography, artists, and nerd stuff.  I just stumbled across this comic and thought it was kinda funny.

Here you guys go.  Sinfest:

I guess not.  Today is the beginning of Ramadan for countless people around the world.  Today was the beginning of my time to start Ramadan as well.  I had been guided to participate in the festivities like any other participant, by not eating or drinking while the sun is up, or unwholesomely enjoying myself for the rest of the month.  As I began the festivities, i.e. skipping breakfast, I had already spent a while feeling that the entire practice doesn’t resonate with my spirit as much as I had hoped it would, or as much as it did a week ago.

What’s the deal, spirit?  Why is my intuition so shaky?  Why do I feel inspired for one thing, then drop it the second I start?  Am I that weak-hearted?   No.  I just spent a full day fasting and a good 22 hours saying virtually nothing.  I have strength and I know it’s there.  What’s the deal?

So I text my lovely friend Adella last night.  I need help understanding the way to make a religious sacrifice without doing so grudgingly.  When I participated in Lent, I always felt the reasons arbitrary, and the effect was that I became more resentful than humbled.  Adella and I met for lunch to discuss how to observe these things with the right frame of mind.

“It’s a change of heart, not something external.  You need to look at why you’re doing this and get your answer from yourself.  I’m sure you can do that…”  Thanks Adella, that was a nice compliment but I KNEW THAT ALREADY!  I just want you to make my opinion change for me so I don’t have to do all the work.

Then she said something that made me think.  “Look at it day by day,” she said.  “If you don’t want to do Ramadan one day, then don’t do it.  That will make the month seem less like a giant looming and make each day more manageable.”  Good point.  On top of that, I thought to myself, I wonder if I’ve been stretching myself too thin.  I have just finished a day of silence and fasting, I intend on doing that more often, and I will be spending a day completely blind very soon.  Is all this too much?  Am I extending beyond my means?

So I took a bite of an apple.  It was perhaps the best apple (well, the best red one… ) that I have ever eaten.  Thank you, universe, for providing such lovely apples today — or was it only tasty now that I appreciate food more due to all this darn fasting?

We went back to Adella’s room to hang out for a bit and I had a moment, so I consulted with my spirit and came to the realization that I was, in fact, guided to practice Ramadan specifically so that I would learn how necessary it is for me to be balanced at this point in my life.  Yes, I have some big work to do in this life, but no, I can’t just push the pedal to the metal or I’ll rip my engine out of the chassis!

I suppose my Ramadan obsession in conjunction with my 4 Apple 1 Orange lunch with Adella was designed to reinforce Lao Tzu’s idea that a good traveler makes no plans and is not intent on arriving.  I have been making far too many plans and looking forward to arriving at an unknown destination.  It’s time for me to sit back and let the Tao come and sweep me off my feet.  I vaguely remember receiving some guidance that balancing my activities and emotional self / not stretching myself too thin would be a major challenge for me at this stage of my life.  I guess it’s time to reflect on that.  I love how the universe put that lesson in my brain on the same day as the Club Fair happens on campus — when all the clubs show their appealing selves to me and try to get me to join!

Take care guys. 

A cliche koan is, “what is the sound of one hand clapping?” or “if a tree falls in the woods, does it make a sound?”

I was walking today and this thought came to me.  What is enlightenment?  Enlightenment is an itch on your foot that tickles to scratch.  This itch is also Tao, btw.

I don’t know if that’s really a koan, but it’s true, so I’m putting it up anyway.

The main reason I’m making this post is because I thought of another really cool band name.

I don’t know what genre this would be, but my band name could be, “Divinely Rational Fractal”     I have to go to class now, but I think I have a picture of some of those.  You nerds probably know what these are.

Anyway.  I’ll edit this with a picture after my class and my meeting!

Happy Ramadan everyone!

PS Here’s the best picture I have of some Divinely Rational Fractals.    If anyone wants to enhance this with some post processing, please be my guest and show me what you get!

Boat Trip

Why does she always hit me? She practically begs me to spend every waking minute with her, then she spends the vast majority of that time being angry with and abusive towards me. This was the last straw. The moment she pulled out the fists, I decided to stand up for myself. This time is the last time it will happen.

I thought this trip would be in the best interest for all of us. She wants to spend time with me; I want to make her happy. My family and I both want this trip to happen and I really thought it would be a good opportunity to get her to start actually liking and appreciating my family.

Worst. Idea. Ever.

I am now in god-knows-where, VA, moving west. Barefoot and dirty, I followed the sunset till she faded. Now I follow the moon. Why am I doing this? I’ve answered that question a million different ways in these past 3 hours. I’m walking away because I can’t make anyone happy back there; I’m useless. I’m walking to distract myself from the vicious and dangerous thoughts that plague me aboard my grandparent’s boat. I’m walking to ignore the problems to which I know all of the solutions. I’m walking away from my life, when part of me knows that all I need to do is walk out of hers.

The universe was kind enough to place some rope on the side of the road for me. How nice. This might come in handy if I need to pitch a tent or stow some food. I’ll keep this in case anything needs to be strung up, hung up, or hanged.

What was this fight about, anyway? God. I can’t even remember. It’s never anything substantial. I probably spent too much time talking to my dad and ignoring her. This whole trip has been one problem for her after another. My grumpy grandfather, debasing father, smelly dog, the cramped boat… I should have known that these ingredients, whether real or imagined, would be a deadly combination. It seems that by the time we had settled in at the marina and she was able to get out of the boat, the levee was already broken.

I know she had problems feeling liked and I really hate to blame the victim here, but the slapping and the punishments are not really winning her any points. She’s finally pushed me over the edge: I’m leaving everything, not looking back. She estranges me from my family and friends so much that vacations and get-togethers are entirely non-beneficial, forced, and phony, and then she goes and demolishes all reasons for me to stick with her. I thought I could stay with her until she was more independent, more self confident; a happier person. I thought the abuse was part of my trials in this cause. I thought it would be worth it.

No. She has been quite literally beating it into me that she doesn’t want me around. No wonder she is so alone. No wonder people made fun of her for her entire life. No wonder she has no one else but me… No wonder she is so fucking ridiculous at dealing with her problems. Shit. This is a loop that’s not going to end with more people doing the same things to her. This is where I am supposed to be the better person and do the right thing. This is where I choose to leave my life on hold. This is where I swallow my self respect and dignity for the good of someone who doesn’t give a damn about me. This is when I should start mentally preparing myself for the shame filled crawl-back-and-apologize bit.

This is when I turn around and hold my thumb up. This is just one of countless mistakes of its kind.