Lonesome Wolf in Austria
By Billy | April 14, 2011
In ten days I will have been in Austria for a month. I am officially a resident of Weitra Stadt, I have a bank account and real bank card, I have and am presently wearing authentic leather pants, and I can tell the shop keepers that I’m just looking, though it may take me a second try to get the word order correct. I have completely unpacked, I am one or two signatures away from having a visa, soon I shall buy the traditional shoes and a hat.
I feel quite at home here, though I am certain that feeling is unfounded in a number of places. For one thing major thing, I have made no friends. Well, my family here is great, don’t you doubt it, and there is always a constant trickle in and out of new and beautiful humans to this house — for a meal, for a beer, for some work, for a minute, for the weekend… Many of them I recognize and they recognize me. I have spoken, laughed, danced, sung, created, drunk, and played with many of these wonderful beings on numerous occasions. I can’t think of a better word but friend for some of them, but in my heart there is a difference between these people and what a friend is. I suppose Alex performs all the functions of a friend, mother, and employer for me. I catch myself looking to her when I don’t understand someone, or looking for her when I’m standing by myself and I want to break away from that. I want to learn to fly now, and not rely so much on the mama bird.
In previous years, a friend has been someone who accepts me no matter what. They have stood patient as a stone while I change my life around every other day, and they have tried their best to let my soul dangle where it will. At one time, I believed that the person who is best at being a friend is the person who doesn’t try to figure me out — or to “get me,” but to just be there with me or for me or in need of me. Now I don’t know what makes a good friend. I suppose I don’t have enough material to craft something out of.
In my efforts to not inhibit myself, I have been trying to cast aside hesitation and worry. Just a moment:
“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” Luke 12:25, Matthew 6:27
“If you have fear of some pain or suffering, you should examine whether there is anything you can do about it. If you can, there is no need to worry about it. If you cannot do anything, then there is also no need to worry. ” The (former?) Dalai Lama
“There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worry about things which are beyond the power of our will.” Epictetus (ancient Stoic philosopher)
Bah. OK.
So. I have been trying to cast aside worry which leads to self inhibition. There are too many people in the world — yes, even in a Stadt of only 3,000 einwohner, such as Weitra — to worry about what people think. If my hair or my pants or my accent or my barefootedness or my fondness of moss or my incessant picture snapping or my frequent napping or my taking things out of your garbage pile bother you, then just get out of my way. There are, as a matter of fact, plenty of people in the world who won’t be bothered by my thoughts, actions, or looks.
BUT. I really don’t think that my thoughts or my looks or my actions are inhibiting other people much, either. The fact of the matter is that I just haven’t met many people of either the friendly or the aloof flavours. I’ve met some great people at a bar that’s a bit far (to my bicycler conception of distance) from my house — at a place that Alex and I go every Friday evening. I like the people there, but I don’t know how much of a friendship I’m forming with the few people I talk to. The honest-to-God closest thing I have to my very own, authentic, friendship in Austria is a woman I’ve talked to twice at a bar.
So. What do I do with that? On the one hand, friendships wont just happen to me. I think I’m a decent enough fellow, and I might even consider myself friendly. Nonetheless, friends don’t just happen. You grow them. On the other hand, I am 10 days shy of a month living here and several months shy of comfort with the language or familiarity with the customs. (Tangent: I have already had one person slap me while I was wearing lederhosen) Needless to say, it is not yet time for me to have any gripes with not connecting with people, as I’ve only been here a little bitty bit.
Then it comes to this; in any case I need to be more patient, and not worry about it. Worrying about it won’t add a single friend, nor will it add an hour to my life, nor will it help me attain any sort of happiness. So, while I’m cultivating patience, what do I do? Well, for starters, I think I’m going to spend more time in the Stadtplatz. Weitra has a nice big central place with a few good sitting places so that you can find the sun at any time of a sunny day. It happens to be a snowy week, so I’ll bide my time, but in general, I think I’d like to take a book and a notebook out to the city square and read or draw or even nap. If nothing else, I will be able to learn some faces of the people of Weitra and maybe a person or two can learn to recognize me. I think you’re much more likely to have a conversation struck up with you if you’re recognizable in the world.
What else? Hm. Well I usually take my guitar just outside of hearing range from my house, but maybe I should like to take it all the way down to the park and intentionally practice for an hour or so. I don’t expect to make friends while I’m playing guitar, but I know at my University I met a lot of people who said, “ah! You’re the guy who plays the banjo on that hill.” or “I wanted to meet you because you do crazy things sometimes.” I usually wasn’t flattered by being known as the crazy things guy, but being seen facilitated forming friendships. And in any case, as Wayne Gretzkey put it, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. Staying inside and arguing with people about politics on Facebook is not exactly my idea of taking shots at making real life friends.
What else? Hm. I think I shall also look into opportunities to volunteer. Volunteering has never been a bleeding-heart-obligation for me. I think if you don’t want to be doing whatever volunteering you’re doing, you’re not really volunteering. I think volunteering should be fun. If it’s a chore, it’s not voluntary. A lot of people perform actions claiming it is for other people’s sake, but they’re just doing it to ease guilt, make themselves feel like a good person, or because they believe it’s their duty. You have no duty to anyone but yourself. However, you are bigger than just your body because you’re connected to and made of everyone around you, so in actuality serving your”self” is identical to serving “others” around you. That aside, volunteering is a fun way to make friends and lasting relationships, so I think I would like to find a way to plug myself in to Weitra by volunteering. Maybe I’ll also go round and ask people if they need some young back muscles to help pull up unwanted plants in their gardens. Maybe I’ll make a euro or two while doing it!
I’ve been considering getting a job in the early day time. Alex can keep me as busy as I’d like to be in die Firma, but with jobs I perform and especially the people I meet, I always feel like I’m Alex’s au-pair, not Billy Grasmeder. (The ‘problem’ is that I am both) I suppose a lot of this is stemming from being a younger brother and always living in the shadow of an older, successful, smart, and well behaved brother. Whatever the case, I want people to think of me as my own self, rather than an appendage of someone else. I don’t think working at a flower shop or something like that will offer me the empowered feeling of independence that I’m looking for, but it is a thought that surfaces for a moment and sinks away every so often.
Whaaat else? What did I do in Virginia to meet people? Music playing groups and open mic nights, university clubs, contra dancing, Our Community Place… Church! I haven’t been to that huge church for a service yet. I think I’ll go next time I’m home on Sunday. Maybe I can also find a yoga class, or join the Qigong class up the street, or find a meditation group, or even just join the gym a few blocks away. I don’t think I need to work out, and I’m actually a little opposed to using machines or weights to get in shape, but having a trainer or a fitness class would be easy ways to make friends. JMU had an endless list of classes you could take for free at the University Rec center, and so I made friends at the rock climbing wall, in the dance classes, in the kickboxing classes, and more. I know it’s a small town, but they have to have some activities. I’ll take what I can get — at least try it once.
When I blindly stepped into a small college of 3,000 people, even in a city of 200,000 I felt alone, secluded, misunderstood, and desperate. I’ve never spent so much time thinking of ways to escape the existence I’d chosen for myself as during my two years at MU. Furthermore, I chose to ignore that I, and nobody else, had chosen that situation for me.
This is no different, but I am different. I have chosen to live in a community of the same size and population as my first college, but with wildly different demographics. I feel like this is a chance to redeem myself from the “missteps” I’ve taken and learn to triumph over them. It’s time to learn to thrive with my choices, make my situation my own, and take the reins on my life.
Topics: This is my life, Uncategorized | Comments Off on Lonesome Wolf in Austria
Austria: Two Weeks and Then Some
By Billy | April 8, 2011
Topics: This is my life | 1 Comment »
Keep on Running
By Billy | April 1, 2011
Although I’ve only been here a week, I can’t help but find myself wondering, “is this where I belong? Will I stay here? What if I get a work visa and can stay indefinitely? Will I want that? Will I do it?”
I love Austria, but I have to keep in mind that it is all very new to me. Novelty creates certain chemicals in the human brain that make it think, “ahhhh yeaaah. That’s right.” My brain must be basting in feel-good chemicals right now, and it’s entirely possible that once the novelty wears off, I will tire of the weather, I will tire of the same old people, I will tire of the same old trees, the same old falling apart buildings, and the same old camp-fire smells in the Stadt. Will I feel the need to move on to a new novelty? Will I want to stay in Europe, but not in Austria, or stay in Austria but not Weitra?
On the one hand, my whims are entirely unpredictable. 4 months ago, I had no idea I’d be in Europe today, and just the same, I have no idea where I’ll be a year from today. On the other hand, it is completely my choice to let this experience steep properly or rot and fester. Time can brew a sweet Weitra-Brau Bier, or turn things into a cesspool. The only difference between sewage and compost is how you treat it. One will poison crops, the other will revitalize them better than any artificial fertilizer can. I have complete and total control over how I feel about this place. If I choose to like it because it’s novel, I believe I will focus on only the newness of my situation and after a year, maybe, I will be yearning for the USA. Another option, perhaps, is to choose to love Austria because it is my choice, and nobody else’s. If I focus on that, I think I’ll develop my thoughts around that sense of ownership and I will create a lasting sense of happiness. A controllable sense of placement, too. I think by cultivating that sense of purpose and direction, I will leave the most doors open.
If I love something because it was my choice, then I have every opportunity to move on to something else because it’s my choice, or to stay forever because it’s my choice. I am not held anywhere by anyone but myself. Master of my domain. Ribbono Shel Olam.
If you live reactively, you are a slave. Addicted to circumstance. And the worst part about that is that you will wait for your circumstance to improve before you stop that addiction. If I allow my Austrian experience to own me, I will probably move back to the States having been defeated. Be it 4 months, 4 seasons, 4 years, or 4 decades, I will have lost, or at least never actualized the experience that I rightly deserve (because I say I deserve it).
I am making it my goal here in Weitra to learn to be content. Perhaps there is a difference between happiness and contentedness. I do not set my goal to be happy here, but to be complete here. Learning to be content is a skill that can transcend cultures, times, places, and situations. If I trick myself into believing I am content because I am happy, I will trick myself into believing I am not content because I am unhappy. Na! If I think my degree of completion is dependent on my current happiness, I will feel incomplete no matter where I go, because nobody is happy all the time. Nobody. And no where, no thing, no person, no type of existence whatsoever will ever make you be happy.
I worry sometimes. Maybe I’m escaping from my life by coming to Austria. America-me can go on hold for a year or longer and I don’t need to worry about him for a while. The problem with trying to escape from something is that you’re usually running from the wrong thing. “My problems” in America don’t exist without me, so they’re not real things. The thing that makes them problems is me. Thus, I am making my own problems, and if I don’t change things, the same old problems, or new incarnations of the same old problems, will find their way to me. Running away from a problem doesn’t fix things, because the only problem is you — specifically the you who is running away.
SO. Here I sit between an ancient church and an ancient castle, and here I sit between a lovely paradox. I must choose to allow myself to be content. I must choose to relinquish ‘power’ and to acknowledge that I can’t control every circumstance. Trying to control circumstances is trying to create happiness, confusing that happiness with completion and contentedness. I have complete control, but only over my own universe. I have absolute power, but only the power to choose.
So. In the midst of this paradox; that ultimate power is the choice to be receptive. I will choose to be content here in Weitra. Because if I don’t, I will be putting off the only important thing I can do. I can put this off forever — maybe til I die. And what then? If I spend my life looking forward to the next “good” thing, I’ll probably carry that nasty habit over to my dead self, pretending theres even some semblance of consciousness or sentience after this life. Things aren’t good or bad, in any type of existence. They just ‘is’ and ‘be.’ The choice for goodness depends on me.
So. Now I’ve got to stop thinking about it and start trying it. Realizing you have everything you’ll ever want and ever need, realizing that you are as complete as you ever can be right here, right now, is not a thing you do over night. You have to spend forever constantly realizing you’re already home.
Topics: Philosophy | Comments Off on Keep on Running
First Week in Austria
By Billy | March 30, 2011
So. Has the Austrian Apple lost its schein? No. Not hardly.
What did I do today? Well I woke up at 7 AM, probably a few minutes after most of my loved ones at home went to sleep for the night. I have been waking up every day minutes before my alarm. I have this system: I wake up before the alarm, turn the alarm off, lay in bed mostly asleep for half an hour, lay in bed mostly awake for fifteen minutes, and then I quickly get out of bed at 7:45 every day. It’s great.
By this time, my family here has gotten up, eaten their breakfast, and gone on to start their days. That’s fine with me since I’m used to solitary meals, which I’d indulge in consistently at school. Bread and butter for breakfast? Sure! I’ve never considered that a breakfast, but it seems to suffice just fine when I’m either not in the mood for, or in wont of cereal or oat meal.
Breakfast done, I write an e-mail or two to some friends, start an argument or two on Facebook, resist getting sucked back into USA politics, and look up the name of the cute little flowers I see popping up all over Weitra. (Still no luck)
What now? Well, I suppose I’ll hop on my Peugeut (which I guess I should specify is a bicycle — very similar to my French bike back home — since there’s lots of Peugeut cars here. Who knew?) and get lost looking for my host-mom’s factory. Alex’s factory is something I don’t quite understand. Is everything made in the factory for her to sell? Is any of it? I would be as surprised if all or none of the stuff made at this factory went somehow to her business. Nevertheless, part of this “factory,” seems to be dedicated to Walter Schnabl’s artistic purposes. This guy is awesome. Someone described him as a possible forerunner in the artistic world, and I don’t know much about art or anything, but I know what strikes me. Walter’s art is breathtaking, bewhildering, and engaging. I couldn’t stop looking at it, and smiling, or even giggling while looking at it. I don’t think the impact of “forerunner in the field,” is exaggurated by the translation to English from German, nor do I think it is terribly pretentious to allude to Walter this way. I only experienced three of Walter’s current works-in-progress in a brief time, and only one of them was nearly recognizable, nowhere near what he describes as the final layout in an exhibit, and it was still utterly remarkable.
Today from 9-something to 12something? I became a guilder, an artist, and a heiß-kakao enjoyer, all at the same time. Guilding is remarkable. Something that is guilded is not made of gold, but has the appearance of being so. Think of Tutankhamun’s sarcophagus (or do an image-search online for it). Think that baby’s made of gold or covered in it? It is guided — just an unbelievably thin layer of gold placed on top of some other surface. That’s guilding. Walter says his method of guilding is not much different from the way the ancient Egyptians did it. What it involves is taking a super-thin sheet of gold, about the size of a post-it-note, and lay it down on top of whatever surface you want to guild. Walter was using resin so when we laid down the sheet, it stuck right there. Then you push it down gently with what looked like a little horse-hair blush application brush, and move on to the next square. OK. How thin was this golden sheet? Well, no matter how much I got on me, from static cling or something, I could ball it up between my fingers and it would eventually disappear! That’s how small it was. I literally spent some time whilst guilding contemplating the number of atoms thick the sheets of gold were. (…OK, I just looked it up. 300 atoms thick. THREE HUNDRED FREAKING ATOMS THICK.)
Whoa. If I had known that while I was guilding, I would have needed to sit down.
OK.
So, guilding is an interesting art. It also makes for beautiful things, and can be very meditative. The end result can not be rightly captured in picture, but here is what one of Walter’s guilded shields looks like on his website:
:D
Click on that and get a good close up. It is actually flat and still, but it appears to be fluid, moving, and constantly moving. My first thought was to call it a magic eye trick. Ah! Pictures don’t do it justice!
OK.
So afterwards, Alex and I went shopping (I bought Kimchi fixin’s! Aren’t you glad I’m making Kimchi in Austria and not in your house?), pushed her Peugeut to the limits regarding how far it can go without petrol, and eventually got everyone home for lunch.
Then. We went back to the factory and got a crazy amount of firewood. We chucked it into the wine/wood storage cellar. Wow. Two sentences for all that? It took like 3 hours! Oh man, I’ve never stacked fire wood before, and I’ve never been in a truck filled with it before. I think saving firewood is probably one of the first endeavors humans started doing. It may also be a uniquely human thing to do? I don’t quite feel like checking up on that guess. In any case, I felt just like I had been participating in an age old tradition of saving up so we can survive a harsh winter like what you get in Northern Austria. It was fun to move my body so much and feel the vibrancy of the tree in my hands, although it was already rapidly fading, and will continue to do so over the next year. The kids were very helpful in this endeavor, and we made it a game to chuck blocks of wood into the cellar through a window at street level. Maybe my next post will be picture based and elucidate the situation a bit. We finished the wood chucking at about 8 oclock, so it was pretty much time for a bier, some food, and to relax. The bier (beer) we drink here is brewed oh, 50 feet from the house. It’s rather tasty, too. Every kitchen I’ve been in in Austria has had a bottle opener permanently affixed to the counter.
Hum. Well, there’s a lot of words. Today at the dinner table I learned that the rest of the world (well, at least as far as this part of Austria is concerned) think George W. was as dumb as people in the USA think. That’s about as deep as I’m willing to get into politics for now.
Mmmm. Mmm. OK. Well. That’s all for now!
(Also! Here’s Walter’s website! http://www.walterschnabl.com/)
Topics: This is my life | Comments Off on First Week in Austria
Austria: Arriving and Starting to Settling In
By Billy | March 27, 2011
It’s taken me until the 3rd night here in Austria before I have done so much as even attempted to figure out how the converters work for me to plug in my laptop. Luckily, I don’t need to buy any new cables, even for appliances with 3 prongs, while the European plugs only have two prongs.
(Pause for muffin break. Airplane food isn’t always great, but this muffin looks delicious)
…
(Resume because muffin isn’t good enough to take up all of my attention. Sorry Thich Nhat Hanh; I’m multitasking)
OK. Since there’s too many things going on in my head, let’s play a little game. Spiel ein Spiel, as they say here.
Things I can:
Ask for and understand directions to the baggage claim in a completely unintuitive Airport (Vienna/Wien).
Throw my curtains open in the morning, then open the windows and smell undeniably fresh air every single morning.
Spend more than an hour reading just the titles of the books in my room.
Look out of place in small-time Austria.
Use the definitively German and totally un-Austrian form of good-bye, Bis Später, with nearly everyone I see.
Nap. Anywhere. (except an airplane)
Play fuβball with the rest of the kids in the park that’s only a fuβball kick away from my house.
Things I cannot:
Believe that I am in Austria!
Stop gawking at how beautiful (and strange) everything is.
Count the number of candles or musical instruments my house.
Imagine a better host family. (The stuff is cool, but the family is even better!)
Watch The A-Team in German without dozing off.
Believe that I am in Austria!
Things I need to think about more:
Lesson plans. How can we make English more fun, and also more full-time. I haven’t thought about it at all yet — although we haven’t really gotten under way quite yet.
Being mind, body, and soul in Austria.
Things I need to think about less:
“I can’t wait to tell so-and-so about this.”
“I look so out of place here!”
“I have to do such-and-such. It’s just what you’re supposed to do!”
Things I am thankful for:
That my family here is real and not con-artists, that I am here and not among airplane wreckage just south of Iceland or something, that my life and bio-family have provided me with the right conditions to make this my reality.
I can’t say enough how much I already love my family here. Even when everyone’s mad at each other while playing at the park, and I can’t understand why, let alone attempt to mediate.
The smell of Weitra. Even the few sewage grates. On average for me, Weitra has smelled mostly like books, camping, and delicious foods.
My mom hooking me up with clothes. Tobias wore corduroys today, ma, but I was wearing my skinny jeans. We almost match.
The ancient tree in my back yard.
All the ancient trees in Weitra. There’s a church tower 10 meters from my window. Behind that church is a long walking path, overlooking a swiftly flowing river (with a dark patch of forest in between), and along that walking path are many old and knowledgeable trees, for example.
Not checking my phone every hour or so.
The way Hostmom Alex says, “ya, halooo,” when she answers the phone.
There’s no TV in my room, and the only TV I’ve seen in the house seems quite remote — you must be intentional to watch it.
Etc., (aka: everything?)
Things I am wanting of (wonting of?):
Encounters with people my age.
The last random things in my bags to unpack themselves. (also, the hangers that would have facilitated further unpacking)
Everyone back home to teleport here for a while.
Rose:
Family.
Bud:
Seeing spring spring from start to finish.
Thorn:
The huge Mega-Power Plant on the edge of Vienna. And the chopping up of trees in Weitra’s park to sell. Chopping up of wood EVERYWHERE.
Random sprout I don’t recognize (aka, I wonder how this will turn out):
What do I do until the kids get home at 2 PM? How will I spend that time?
For now, I think that’s enough. Ask me things and I’ll tell you what I can!
Liebe,
Billy
Topics: This is my life | Comments Off on Austria: Arriving and Starting to Settling In
Cardboard Wings
By Billy | March 21, 2011
Yesterday’s fallen rain for tomorrow’s rising steam
And I am sealed inside this vessel somewhere in between
Behind the hissing frigid air, behind the sheets of metal
My throat is caught on a cluster of knots and my heart has nowhere to settle
I stuff some things in bags in the blue morning light
All the rest in boxes I’d packed throughout the night
Down into the cellar where they’d surely gather dust
Shove them ‘neath the stairs all cobwebs and rust
My nostrils rolling mold, the fog is thick and cold
The wheels begin to turn though their gears are stiff and old
I’m in another purgatory, static blistering white
Some lady in a uniform is calling out my flight
Then the strangers kiss goodbye, their airport is a hive
Their tin voices buzzing on portable machines
My ears explode inside my head as the honey spills alive
Sweeping up the little ants, their boxes and their beans
Yesterday’s fallen rain for tomorrow’s rising steam
And I am sealed inside this vessel somewhere in between
Behind the hissing frigid air, behind the sheets of metal
My throat is caught on a cluster of knots and my heart has nowhere to settle
My memories and dreams meet somewhere in the now
But I’ve lost my place and I’m buried in these clouds
And I’ve lived my whole life in the boxes left behind
But they’d grown so suffocating, pinching at the binds
Had to cut them with a razor, and nearly broke the blade
Hungry ghosts just waiting to clip the wings I made
Looking out these weathered panes from 30,000 feet
I see my shadow sailing in a plane over the sea
Yesterday’s fallen rain for tomorrow’s rising steam
And I am sealed inside this vessel somewhere in between
Behind the hissing frigid air, behind the sheets of metal
My throat is caught on a cluster of knots and my heart has nowhere to settle
And when I stepped off of the tarmac, made my way to the baggage claim
I found it only fitting that the baggage never came
I guess I’m freer that way
You can write in your own price and buy the album here: http://birdlips.bandcamp.com/album/cardboard-wings
Topics: Uncategorized | Comments Off on Cardboard Wings
Lonely Haiku
By Billy | March 18, 2011
There is a difference
between being and feeling
alone and lonely.
Topics: Uncategorized | Comments Off on Lonely Haiku
What [the] Fish [do we] Know
By Billy | March 13, 2011
Zhuangzi and Huizi were strolling along the dam of the Hao River when Zhuangzi said, “See how the minnows come out and dart around where they please! That’s what fish really enjoy!”
Huizi said, “You’re not a fish — how do you know what fish enjoy?”
Zhuangzi said, “You’re not I, so how do you know I don’t know what fish enjoy?”
Huizi said, “I’m not you, so I certainly don’t know what you know. On the other hand, you’re certainly not a fish — so that still proves you don’t know what fish enjoy!”
Zhuangzi said, “Let’s go back to your original question, please. You asked me how I know what fish enjoy — so you already knew I knew it when you asked the question. I know it by standing here beside the Hao.”
(From The Zhuangzi: Section 17, Autumn Floods. Translated by Burton Watson)
—
The wit in this passage is three-fold.
Firstly, it is simple and sharp focused all on the punch line. I know what fish like, despite however much thinking and reasoning you can do, because I observe it. I don’t even really care if I’m right, because I am right as far as I care. It’s fish we’re talking about — knowing what makes them happy doesn’t really matter at all in the grand scheme of things. I’m not better or worse for believing one way or the other about their happiness. That seems to be a common Taoist slap-in-the-face/tip-over-your-tea-cup lesson.
For the second layer, we have to tease apart the story going backwards. Huizi fell into a linguistical trap when he asked, “how do you know…?” The question implies that Zhuangzi, definitely and factually does know. It’s a little campy, even, but is magnified by Zhuangzi’s next point.
The third piece is something Huizi was unaware of at the start of the dialog: he knew that Zhuangzi knew. In fact, he knew Zhuangzi knew about fish to the exact same extend that he, himself, knew about Zhuangzi’s knowledge. This is surprising because Huizi thought he knew the exact opposite about Zhuangzi; he thought he knew Zhuangzi didn’t know anything about fish happiness. Because Zhuangzi chose to know about what makes fish happy, Huizi made a leap and chose to know Zhuangzi’s inner workings.
This last piece is determined by Huizi’s interpretation of the discussion. Zhuangzi asks, “You’re not I, so how do you know I don’t know what fish enjoy?” and in doing so is admitting (by his own linguistics-based argument) that Huizi correctly asserts that Zhuangzi doesn’t know what fish enjoy. When Huizi asks, “how do you know…?,” and when Zhuangzi asks, “how do you know…?,” they are both asserting the other does, in fact, actually know. (Huizi asserts that Zhuangzi doesn’t know what fish enjoy, Zhuangzi asserts that Huizi knows that he [Zhuangzi] doesn’t know what fish enjoy)
The correctness of who-knows-what is not finished being determined yet!
Huizi yields to Zhuangzi after a few clever words are exchanged, and in doing so, Huizi no longer knows that Zhuangzi doesn’t know what fish enjoy. When Huizi stops believing that he ‘knows Zhuangzi doesn’t know what fish enjoy,’ he no longer knows Zhuangzi doesn’t know what fish enjoy. He’s allowed for Zhuangzi to know, and now there are no conflicting knowns, and Zhuangzi can contentedly and uninterruptedly enjoy the fish truly enjoying their time in the Hao.
Topics: Uncategorized | Comments Off on What [the] Fish [do we] Know
Cliffhanger
By Billy | March 12, 2011
Through no fault of his own, the man was hanging on the face of a very tall cliff by just a small root. His strength and will were beginning to fail, and who should walk past but Jesus of Nazereth.
Jesus looked down and took pity on the man. He bent down very deeply and offered to help the man.
“You must be willing to do exactly as I say,” explained the Savior, “or else I cannot help you. Can you do that?”
The man nodded frantically and exclaimed, “anything! Oh god, yes.”
Jesus replied, “Good. You’re going to need to let go of the root…”
But even as He was speaking, the man looked down to the sharp rocks below, then up again, then down. He looked at his hand and the tiny root trembling in it, then up at his Helper. He looked back down and begins to wimper as he shook his head, “no.”
Jesus sighed and asked, “how could I ever carry you away you if you never release your plight?” and stood up, seemingly taller than ever before, and at that began slowly to walk away, kicking stones over the edge with his head hung low.
—
OK, so I have no idea where that came from, and I’m 99.9% sure that it’s actually a story that involves Buddha or Lao-Tzu, but since I couldn’t find the original story, I have recreated it and now placed it into the Christian tradition. This story is about Shame sometimes, but it is also about [anything] some other things. I think it’s mostly about saying good-bye tonight.
Topics: Uncategorized | Comments Off on Cliffhanger
When I was a child
By Billy | March 11, 2011
When I was a child I thought like a child.
I reasoned and spoke as I’d be taught as a child.
I thought mountains were mountains
and trees were just trees.
I thought prayer was a thing that you did on your knees.
I thought faith was what it was when you heard then believed.
But worst of all, I caught the disease
of believing that God’s on a cloud you can’t see.
And thinking there’s limits between you and me.
But as I’ve grown wise, I’ve learned truths in degrees.
as I grew older I learned
that my questions had turned
into answers as surely as my heart still yearned.
As I grew older I realized there’s beauty and wonder
and truth in my questions being torn all asunder.
Because
When I was a child, I thought I knew stillness.
I thought prayer was a cure, and sin was an illness.
I thought justice was something you’d know when you’ve died
and that it’s payback for all of the tears that you’ve cried,
and that grace is dependent on how hard you’ve tried.
I thought in binaries constantly, and feared the divide.
I thought salvation was found at the end of the ride,
I thought peace was the time when the wars would subside.
When I was a child I had rocks for best friends.
I knew shields of seashells, and treetop dead ends.
When I was a child I knew dirt and rain,
I knew nothing of happiness;
nothing of pain.
When I was a child I was weightless
and free
I knew limits ignored
made my limits all flee.
When I was a child
I was mighty and strong
I believed in a difference between right and wrong.
When I was a child I knew strength in the trees.
And I felt no distinction between them and me.
Topics: Uncategorized | 1 Comment »
« Previous Entries Next Entries »