#This truly reminds me of white Buddhism

[mali-umkin]

*Screams in Celtic academia*

[teafiend]

Oh, this was an unexpectedly nostalgic - and fun - show. I did not expect to go in and get a refresher course in “Pop Buddhism for Idiots”, nor the campy and breezy story. Neither did I anticipate the hilarity of watching Won Mi Ho (aka Lee Da Hee) run around screaming as demons chased after her in all her perfectly made up and fashioned stunning self, not one hair out of place.

It was funny, “unserious” and wacky. Just the kind of show I needed after a few heartbreaking and sobering crime/law procedural dramas.

It was far from perfect and made me laugh even when not intended, but as long as it did, I could care less whether it was fully intentioned or not. Not being a major fan of CGI or long action scenes, the less said about those on my part, the better. Overall, however, I think those aspects are acceptable for a show of this caliber.

Oh, I certainly did not expect another hot priest. Though this one is a bit too young to drool over, he is nonetheless extremely good looking and cute.

Kim Nam Gil, well, what else is there to say. ❤️‍🔥

The world-building is a somewhat interesting mish-mash of Korean shamanism, Catholic aesthetics, and “pop Buddhism”. Relatively predictable story/plot, but still had spots of surprising twists (mostly with regards to the Baeks), and moments of poignancy which I deeply appreciated.

It has been quite a while since I watched any show with an explicit world-building based on “folk Buddhism”, and that has been one of the main nostalgic factor. As was the affecting visage of Won Mi Ho in that ethereal white dress. She truly looked like “a fairy who has descended onto earth” and reminded me a lot of Joey Wang in her heyday of the “A Chinese Ghost Story”. I did not know exactly how Van felt but I was bowled over.

I know of Lee Da Hee from “I Hear Your Voice”, and always have a soft spot for her after her memorable role in that favourite of favourites. She was extremely entertaining here, with fantastic performances in many spots. She has truly grown more luminous the last time I watched her onscreen.

I completely enjoyed Won Mi Ho as a character, and given my obsession with “The Guest” and Kang Gil Young, just could not help but compare the two - in terms of stylistic/aesthetics choices between the shows - but not in any negative way. As much as I have enjoyed the more realistic, raw and gritty stylistic choices in TG (for KGY), I found myself marveling over the near flawlessness of Won Mi Ho here.

It was so entertaining to gawk at her clothes, the cars, the perfectly made up face, stylised hair etc. Won Mi Ho was fabulous in her chaebol-heir glory. (And few could carry the fashion choices like Lee Da Hee did in the show. What a body and posture ⭐️😍🤩). Also amazing as the selfless Saviour! (One dressed to the nines in couture fashion and high heels, what’s not to love? ⭐️😍🤩)

And I like her character a lot too. Lovely, adorable and easy to love!

The “almost-romance” (though it was basically full-blown romance in my estimation) was also extremely nostalgic and wonderfully moving. I am a sucker for romances of the chaste and yearning type, and they delivered here. 🥹 Roughly knowing how the ending was from lurking on socmed, I was prepared for the ending and was not too disappointed. Still, my poor babies. 😭

A show not to be taken too seriously, nor to have too high expectations of, it was overall an entertaining ride, and truly, I could not ask for more. Love it!

*Recalling the scene during the final showdown between Van and Gungtan when they were having their final “talk”, of Van’s words (paraphrased), “The only way to escape the Law of Causality is to cease to exist” made me chuckle/laugh a few times after the fact. That is basically one of the major pillars of Buddhist teachings, and he announced it as if he discovered that principle. It might be weird, but I found that assertion out of Van’s mouth hilarious.

*Won Jeong’s retelling of the parable of Angulimala was a very nice touch in the show, because I have always found that story illuminating and bittersweet, and it was indeed an important story of redemption and atonement in Buddhist lore. “Good job, show/writers!”

Edited on Sept 23, 2023:

*Read a comment describing this show as a hot mess, and won’t say I disagree, but I have enjoyed the mess, so I suppose there’s that. Especially since it felt true to what is simply a ‘fun webtoon’. There is literally little emotional core or narrative gravity to this show (or much of the original webtoon, I am arrogantly assuming) except a mix-and-match of tropes/lores, which veered from attempting to be angsty/dark to the cheesy and campy. So, I can see where the mess is. That said, the narrative was consistent and coherent, and the performers made me laugh, so I will give it credit where it is due, little as it was.

[ofcloudsandstars]

omg another thing that has happened to me during this HOT MESS week:

So there is this guy at my work who we used to vibe so well all the time. We would talk for ages about energy and mysteries of the universe and some new age shit like he introduced me to Human Design and we would talk about how to use energy and such. He looks like an elf like he could be legolas. He has the long silvery blonde hair and like tattoos of markings on his arms and is gay and majestic looking. He would tell me about magic users and sorcerers from Lithuana (where he is from) and pagan traditions there. 

Anyway I see him after the lockdown back at work and he asks me how my time was and I was like it was good except for the first month when I got into that terrible fight with my roommate. But I told him that my friend who is a light worker stepped in to help bring healing energy and it changed her attitude 180 the next day like she apologized and everything.. And this guy was like: you are going to PAY for that! That is EVIL!! And I was like.. um wot do you mean?? I said she was a light worker like she gave us both healing energy to try and resolve it; and he was like: You do NOT change someone’s will that is EVIL! And I was like: it wasn’t will changing it was light magic. And he was like: You don’t get it, there is a way of things and you are messing with it!! You witches are gonna pay!!

So there I was, dumbstruck with my bowl of chili (it was staff food time), confused and was like, “I don’t.. understand??” Like I thought this guy was a Lithuanian magic user or witch of some kind. But apparently this was a whole new side revealed. He tried to talk to me about karma which is like a knee-jerk source of aggression cause I fucking hate how karma has been bastardized in western culture. Like I am no expert on hinduism but I took some classes on mysticism and zen buddhism which has some influences from hinduism and we read texts upon tombs of their philosophies and I did not read all that shit just for some white man to tell me that karma is some bastardized christian-influenced mysterious power of the universe to rectify right from wrong. Like I was first like: Mister... If karma truly exists please explain to me why Trump has not been struck by lightning yet? Or if you think ‘one day it will come’ when millions upon millions are dead and he shoots himself when he has no where to hide like hitler do you think that’s justice?? Like all of the innocent people that suffered and died in that time do you think Hitler’s end was brought about delayed as fuck by the universe? Cause sorry the world doesn’t work like that. For decades the earth has been polluted and ravaged and malicious people have roamed free without getting struck. Where is Europe’s karma after they destroyed and ravaged Africa? (And other parts of the world honestly not just Africa.) Also if you believe in this force of rectifying right from wrong then our actions to bring healing and light to quell a nearly violent situation in my house is justified cause honestly I was 👌🏽 this close to putting this bitch in a jar with a rotting egg and her coiled up shower drain hair. 

Karma actually is about how your choices influence your future (I think the word literally means ‘act’) and how you justify your current actions can create ripple effects to how your actions and the effects they bring will influence your future. (Examples: if you care about picking up litter in parks you could create a ripple effect where the animals there have less of a chance of getting sick by eating something synthetic or someone could notice and help you or return an act of kindness your way. Another example is if you decide to pocket something small in a store or at work. It may not be a big deal but you could justify that action in your mind and later in life try it again in another scenario and that can create a bad ripple effect if you get caught. It’s more logical than mystical). 

Anyway he was like: But how do you know your actions are ok?? And I was like: Sir, I have done both great and terrible things and NOTHING has happened to me as a result cause the universe has too many lives, timelines and planets to keep track of what is good and bad like that is all subjective. He was getting agitated but I was like: if you try it sometime you will see. He scoffed and reminded me that ‘us witches are gonna pay’ lmao. 

Anyway after that dramatic lunch period with coworkers concernedly looking on I text my witch friend who also used to work with the company and knows him (she moved to Italy cause of everything going on and she came with me to Summer Solstice at the beach) and I was like wtf is up with him?? And her being her Aries self went on a TIRADE like OMG HE NEEDS TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!! NO ONE ASKED HIM FOR HIS COLONIZING BORN AGAIN BELIEFS!! And I was like... wait.. What do you mean?? Born Again?? Turns out this guy was a BORN AGAIN CHRISTIAN THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME AOFHAEFNKjhokfJLAGWHNFOAW:NFWLKA LMAOOOOOOO She was like: how did you not notice?? He literally has two big black crosses tattooed on both forearms I was like: BITCH HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW? HE ALSO GOT SYMBOLS AND HE IS GAY!! Like he literally looked like a lord of the rings elf and has some mystical markings on his body and a BOYFRIEND y’all tellin me he’s a born again christian?! LMAO (apparently he used to criticize her on the desk since she wears pentagrams so she never liked him much.)

Anyway it’s wild.. this whole time.. we’ve been talking about energy and the universe but like.. from two very different perspectives.. But somehow just never went below the surface that we never figured out what each other was 😂😂😂 

Anyway Neptune RX revealing other’s inner faiths and ripping away illusions. Everytime I see this guy at work now it’s so awkward lmao. With his Legolas-lookin’ born again gay-ass. 

[chaoticlamphoagietaco]

2020?

Well what can I say, it seems like it’s ending with a bang, but there’s still two months left.

Biden is president, and trump has yet to retaliate, I wonder what that’s going to look like.

My boyfriend and I are having sexual issues, or rather I’m seeing issues in our sexual habits.

It feels one-sided, I please him (he cums), he pleases me and I don’t cum. It’s frustrating because I’ve seen him go on hikes, talk to people for hours, if you can be active in this way, why is it difficult to just suck my dick for like 30? I understand if you lock jaw, but over the course of our relationship, sex has been me being patient and him getting off. It’s hard to maintain sexual interest, and maybe that’s why my mind goes in these fantasies. I’m almost at the point where if we have anal, I know where gonna end up jerking off... maybe I’m asking for too much, or maybe I’m just tired of being patient.... I wanna see if he will be open to swinging, or wearing a long dildo for a couple of days to resolve the issue, but I’m not sure how he will respond, or when this conversation will happen. I’m hoping that Sunday will be the day but I’m not sure.

I miss my mother, I feel her trying to reach me but I struggle to connect to her spirit. There’s so much unsaid, that it’s hard to equate the relationship to only a spiritual level. I... don’t know what I would say. Am I angry for the suppression. Of my dance enthusiasm? Am I upset because I never told her I was gay? Am I upset because she’ll never see the fruition of my dreams?

Ri

Speakings of, I don’t know my dreams,p anymore.... or rather they feel like they are transforming. I wanted to be a research analyst after falling out of love with psychotherapy and sociology, but I realized what that actually meant. Research analyst is a broad term, that can encompass a business, health centers/organizations, government, and nonprofit. And essentially these are all the sectors you. And work for other than a school which I do not want to do. Through my conversation. With NASA I found more about becoming a data analyst, and while the salary was enticing I realized that was a computer science that didn’t incorporate sociology or psychology like I had hoped. When I stumbled upon market/marketing research analyst I was hooked. I knew that finance and accounting wasn’t my passion, but marketing itself wasn’t either. Marketing has been largely traditional, and digital marketing is basically a new field. I think this is why I made the decision to transfer my major so hastily, it encompasses everything I was searching for with program evaluation, I can conduct research based on consumer intelligence which incorporatess social psychology, and have the promising effects of impact. Or in other words, my research will be used and considered valuable to the company I’m working for or working with. In program evaluation, sociology and psychology, the effect that your research has is truly perceptional and has a large ambiguity around its impact. You can go 4-10 years without achieving a goal you intended, which is expected and encouraged in some situations. On top of all this, withi program Evaluation and psychology there’s an expectation around the support you give in the exchange. Not only am I conducting research for MBH, but we (the school) are helping the business attract African America. Participants to their establishment, which can be done in so many different ways, it would take. A considerable amount of money, resources, and process and attention needs to be there if you want to achieve an impact. How can this be achieved when the business in itself is not liable for its own pretentiousness? Or it’s own self-processing that I can’t change? Thankfully, with marketing I get the best of both worlds. I can incorporate my social psychology background, while also attending to my creative side in branding, and even furthermore conducting meaningful research that is almost guaranteed to have an impact (since if I don’t, I’m not doing my job well haha) and will be used as vital data for profitability will not only motivate me to take the job, my peers, and the business seriously, but will also compensate me tremendously well, I mean it’s very lie,oh that in 2-3 years time I could be making a 6 figure salary. With this in mind, I feel Clarity around my occupational pursuits, but as for my dreams... that’s another story...

My dance past is struggle to bring up, even typing....,

I was so close, yet everything was taking from me, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

With this, I keep falling in and out of love with dance, I watch a video and I feel inspired to dance again. I’m feeling more drawn to Alonzo Lines ballet, Nunes, and of course my all time favorite Batsheva. But watching hip hop videos make me cry, it reminds me of what I use to be, what I could have become, and how many friends I’ve lost along the way. Dance is brutual, forcing vulnerability and deep connection within a short period of time, I’m not sure how I to come back to it but I’m getting more inspired to. My roommate doesn’t make me feel comfortable eno to explore my creative side, but when me and bf live together, I hope I can feel more comfortable and start recording myself more often, the encouragement he brings is so ephemeral, I’m lucky to have him. But I know that at the least, if I came back to dance, I outdone be more interested in dance film, and being inside of that industry rather than concert dance, sinner the world is kind of moving into a digital world, definitely open to site specific work, given the right amount of viewers and support of course,

For my other dreams that are transforming, I know want to become marketing manager, and possibly a yoga teacher. I’ve gone back and forth with a yogic certificate, but I didn’t feel that I had enough practice, knowledge, or the right people to start with a subject like that. But fuck, I mean soooo many white people do it haha. I’m feeling more motivation for this certificate since I realized that I can make friends this way. I can find like minded people who practice, engage in processing, and are willing to go into platonic physical interactions, since I’m also realizing this is crucial for me in any platonic relationship. If this program started progressing, this could become a business that provides an income, I met awesome people, and I can a lot of ppl along the way. Downsides are of course if the business collapses, but I would gain knowledge in Hinduism which I’ve been wanting but unsure how to engage in.

What’s serendipitous though, is that the the timing of marketing could not be better, a program has a date right after my classes end, I can attend their classes, then continue my spring courses, and work a full time job and on my way to 6 figures. There’s so many resources and side that this transition feels right and meaningful, I’m feeling good about this change, I just hope I won’t want to change again 5 years from now.

Hinduism and Buddhism.... my practices and faith have been wavering, after Naropa, my experience with Buddhism is a bit tainted, maybe I need to go to retreat again and release any energy surrounding my mother, but other factors play a part. The prentiousness, the fake smiles, that school had a lot of problems, but none more so than racism pure and simple. This is why I love Virginia, racism over there is overt and blatant, I know who the racist is and I know where not to go. Here in boulder, everybody will smile at you, and you don’t know who is truly being racist, you have to really read behind the lines and analyze to understand the truth of what somebody is saying, I mean the school burned down on its own so I think my wishes are being granted... I don’t know where this leaves me with Buddhism, Charlotta was amazing, and I want to attend her classes, but something always holds me back and I don’t know what. In regards to Hinduism, my yoga sequence has pretty much been the only stabilizing thing in my life. Through all the obstacles and trauma, maintains these practices have really kept me balanced through whatever comes my way, although I have been slacking I some ways, I’ve also been progressing in chakras, balancing, and following a routine. Maybe in this way, Buddhism is something for me to contemplate, maybe Hinduism is what I want to talk about...there it is, Buddhism is my process and Hinduism is my faith. Shiva will always be my everything, in not sure why on that mountain, or even if I made a connection, but that trip to Japan truly changed me, and I want to follow a Shiva path that is right for me, I just wish I had someone to help guide me, but that might make things harder.

[nevertherose]

Speaking of religious commentary...

Having watched pretty much every reaction video I could find to DWIT, and having read many theories…I’ve noticed that nobody has really touched much on the whole “religious commentary” part of the episode. But the more I watch it, the more I start to feel it’s almost THE most important aspect of the whole dilemma.

The first time I watched, honestly, the notion of character Thomas as a “religious man” made me immediately uncomfortable. My own experience with religion has been a multi-decade roller coaster of spending high school as a gung-ho Christian, going to college, having a religious crisis, dabbling in everything from Wicca to Buddhism, and then marrying a guy who works in a church. My personal beliefs have settled into a comfortable agnosticism with a bit of practical witchcraft thrown in. It’s given me what I feel is a fair, impartial view of religion in general…but anytime someone starts referring to themselves as religious, or talking about God or their beliefs, my hackles immediately go up. Because I immediately get scared that their faith means they hold beliefs that are radically different from mine, beliefs that at best I no longer relate to, or at worst have actively rejected as harmful.

Hearing Logan (embodiment of Logic) say, “You’re a religious man, are you not?” was like having a wall thrown up between me and these characters that I’ve come to love, and I did not like it. But once I got past that knee-jerk reaction (it took a few viewings, I’ll admit), I was blown away by how much more SENSE Thomas’ never-ending string of dilemmas made. Two separate Creativities, Virgil’s fear, Patton’s strictness and him not knowing what repression is, the Duke (a stinky bratty trash gremlin with the humor of a twelve year old) being scary, Deceit…I feel like literally all of it can be explained by the simple phrase: “Thomas’ Catholic upbringing”. 

I wasn’t brought up Catholic, but I was raised nominally Christian, and in high school I was heavily involved in a church youth group. I’ve been to a number of retreats and helped run a few of them. My husband finished seminary after we got married, and I read some of his textbooks. So when Logan says “thought is a precursor to action”, I know PRECISELY what he means. And even though he went on to talk about how five of the seven deadly sins are committed in your head, from what I’ve seen of the reaction videos and whatnot, I don’t think he made that point clearly enough.

Thought, in traditional Christian doctrine, is not JUST a precursor to action…it is EQUAL to action, and in some cases, MORE IMPORTANT.

What you do is not nearly as important as what you think/believe, because everybody sins (therefore your actions cannot save you). You can be the kindest, most generous, most compassionate person in the world, but according to traditional Christianity, if you don’t believe in Jesus, you are still hell-bound. On the other hand, a murderer can go to heaven if they merely really and truly “repent” and believe the right things with all their heart.

In other words, you can be divinely condemned for the things you think, regardless of whether or not you ever do them or even want to do them. (Although there’s actually some debate in doctrine over the importance of action vs thought is when it comes to salvation, but that’s another can of theological worms).

Growing up, I was quite familiar with verses like this:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart”

It’s very easy to see how a person would come away from a verse like that believing that thinking about something is exactly the same in God’s eyes as doing the thing. It’s no wonder, then, that character Thomas was so upset over his intrusive thoughts, so determined not to even think about or discuss them, and so upset when he learned that nothing he did would make them go away. It means he’s a sinner, a liar, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Remus, in that context, is pretty flipping scary: if Thomas wasn’t already a bad person, Remus wouldn’t exist...right??

In character Thomas’ mind, admitting to a bad thought is morally the same as admitting to a bad deed. He accepts this premise unconsciously, even as he tries to explain to his sides (and himself) that he’s not thinking these things on purpose, that he doesn’t like the thoughts, that he doesn’t want to do any of it. His Morality desperately wants him to somehow not be guilty, and his Anxiety is convinced he’s already guilty anyway. (Deceit really did nail their roles in his courtroom scenario).

“I can’t condone any more of that kind of thinking,” Patton says, because for him, the only morally acceptable solution to icky thoughts is to not think them. Anything else requires acknowledging said thoughts, and at that point, it’s too late…you have condemned yourself as thoroughly as if you had acted on them. Those thoughts can’t be Thomas, because Thomas does not want to be a bad person. (Remember “I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you’re not”?). I think Patton’s whole “THAT’S what repression is??” realization in his episode is so important, because he’s finally able to put a name to what he does in his pursuit of Making Sure Thomas Is Good, and is forced to confront the reality that this thing he does is, in fact, BAD for Thomas.

“You thought those thoughts, Thomas,” Virgil says, and it lands like a guilty verdict from a jury because that’s exactly what it is. Virgil is terrified of Remus because his presence must mean there’s something wrong with Thomas, because bad thoughts = bad actions = bad person, and this isn’t something Virgil’s vigilance can shield him from.

I’ve noticed that Virgil has what I’d called two different “Anxiety Modes”: Virgil Acting As Anxiety, and Virgil Being Anxiety. Virgil Acting As Anxiety is pretty much all we saw before we learned his name, when Virgil was still a villain. It’s the snarky, edgy, occasionally outright insulting, “I’m cynical and sarcastic and I don’t care” attitude. It’s the one we see now in those almost affectionate bursts of “okay, guess I’m gonna have to kick in here”, “ugh, I can’t believe I’m the one corralling you guys” “I’m listeniiiiiing”, finger guns, etc. This is Virgil behaving how he believes Anxiety is supposed to function. He’s just doing his job.

(I actually think it was this mode that got Thomas and the others out of Anxiety’s room. Virgil knows how anxiety works and uses this knowledge to help Thomas).

Virgil Being Anxiety is very different. This is Virgil when he’s actually scared or anxious or freaked out because of something that’s happening with Thomas. I feel like this is true Anxiety; this is character Thomas’ anxiety when he allows it to “get to him”…when instead of being able to realize what’s happening and respond with, “Virgil, stop it”, he and Virgil get into a feedback loop of “oh shit oh shit oh shit…” until one of the others (usually Logan) can break them out. We saw this in Moving On, when Virgil was silently freaking out in Patton’s room and then the whole scenario with the phone call. That’s when the Tempest Tongue comes out involuntarily. I feel like this is when Virgil himself is faced with his own vulnerabilities (like when Roman gets real quiet and serious after reigning in his ego or creativity, or Logan having to acknowledge a point someone else made, or Patton in DWIT realizing that he’s being too strict). I also think Virgil really, really hates to be faced with his own shortcomings as Anxiety, because he is reminded that Thomas used to hate him and repress him for (perhaps) good reason.

When Virgil is Acting As Anxiety, he is in control, he can choose to work with Thomas and be a helpful rather than a harmful presence. I think the whole Accepting Anxiety arc was about Virgil choosing to harness this particular side of his role, and I think we saw the culmination of that in Embarrassing Phases. “I still have the ability to be harmful, but I have chosen not to be.”

What I believe we’re starting to see now is Virgil feeling open and trusted enough in the group to come to terms with the fact that sometimes he IS anxiety, that he is vulnerable as anxiety, and that sometimes he can hurt Thomas despite all his good intentions simply because of what he is.

(I also think that’s why the others are so very, very careful to not call Virgil paranoid. Almost any other insult, he could brush off as “yeah, whatever, my job and all”, but “paranoid” (and to a lesser extend “defeatist”) hits a little too close to his heart and they know it. Those are things he sometimes is and can’t help, can’t stop, can’t protect against.)

What Virgil needs to internalize is that ANY side, “light” or “dark”, has the ability to hurt character Thomas just by doing what comes naturally to them. That’s why I think it was so important for Virgil to witness Logan gently taking Patton down a peg. Patton is almost literally the embodiment of all that is good and innocent within Thomas…for Virgil to see that even Patton can inadvertently go too far…for  Logan, the arguably most trustworthy character, to point out, “You are wrong, and that’s okay, and WE CAN TALK ABOUT IT”…that’s was the push that made him tell Thomas he was a dark side.

Character Thomas, of course, has a long way to go in breaking free of his black and white thinking, and Virgil’s confession will probably play a huge role in that. But to a lesser extent, I think character Thomas (and all the Sides) have been on a journey in learning to stop blaming themselves for things that aren’t their fault. And I think that tendency stems directly from being brought up in a belief system that claims God will absolutely condemn you for things that aren’t your fault (original sin, being gay, thinking bad things, etc). I honestly don’t think that’s what Christianity means to do, but it IS a common side effect and it DOES fuck with your head. For your own peace of mind, you have to break through that kind of thinking.

Thomas has anxiety and that’s okay. Thomas is allowed to feel sad, and discouraged, and unmotivated at times, and that’s okay. Thomas sometimes thinks icky thoughts and that’s okay. Patton can’t always be happy and that’s okay. Roman gets insecure and that’s okay. Logan gets impatient with feelings related things and that’s okay. Virgil can’t always control his anxiety and that’s okay. Virgil used to be a dark side and that’s okay.

As Logan said, “Everything is okay”.

[rwt-mystic-corner]

~*Pagan Meme*~

Tagged (via proximity and desire to do it) by @stormwaterwitch​! And I tag: Anyone who sees this (as long as they’re okay with tags)!

Do you have a magical/Pagan name?

I do, but I prefer not to publicize it. The “RWT” in my url is the abbreviation, though!

How did you find Paganism?

It was less of a defined epiphany, and more of a gradual realization that led to a transition. I’ve always thought trees and wind and thunderstorms had “power”, and I always delighted in FEELING it!  But I didn’t appreciate that power reverently, in a dedicated worship fashion, until I was about 14, and started reading about Wicca. 

From the first book I picked up (”Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner” by Scott Cunningham), everything just felt right, and the exercises came naturally to me. I never understood why “pagan” was an insult, and I always secretly believed there was more than one God or force of nonphysical power in the universe, despite being raised Christian. I met with them, communed with them, prayed to them, asked them for guidance... All that book really gave me was a name, and the gateway to an identity I now proudly embrace. (And, well, more structure and definition for what I was feeling, and ways to more directly consult and praise them.)

How long have you been practicing?

Witchcraft: I learned that little “wishes” sent out to the world had an impact at a very young age. It was an intrinsic part of my worldview, even at age 8! So without knowing I was working magic, I’d been practicing it my entire life. Pagan-dedicated worship, though? 12 years. Same time for dedicated, focused actual witchcraft.

Are you out of the broom closet?

To most people, yes. I came out as pagan to some of my co-workers within like two months of knowing them. 8F (Though I don’t openly chat about actually practicing witchcraft unless I’m prompted, because I’m not a fan of attempted evangelism.)

Solitary or group practitioner?

Solitary, though I occasionally join forces with friends and spirits.

What is your path?

I call it eclectic paganism, wherein I’m definitely pagan, but I’ve gleaned elements of truth from Buddhism and Daoism as well. As for my path in witchcraft, I call it more of a “mystical” practice, because I’m all about understanding divine mysteries, harnessing forces in the universe, and introspection as a study of microcosm. “Witchcraft” generally indicates a lot more use of physical tools, words, and rituals than I’ve ever used. (At least, not since I was about 16.) 

D E I T Y

What’s your brand of deism?

Oh boy, this one’s fun. Technically speaking, I’m an agnostic theist. I believe there is definitely something out there, but I also believe it’s impossible for humans to understand and truly comprehend exactly what that divine power is. Hence, “agnostic” (”not knowing”) “theist” (believes in godlike power). The pantheon I’ve connected most to is the old Finnish crew.

Who is your patron God/ess?

Matrons Mielikki and, well, the second is a bit of a close-kept secret. ;}P (While she’s not nearly well enough known to be considered “pop culture”, she’s been a very powerful force in my life since inducting me as a follower.)

What Gods do you worship?

Regularly? None of them, oops;; But mostly the two aforementioned. I’ve also felt a connection to Hestia, , and a weird connection to the Egyptian pantheon that definitely was Not worshippy, probably mostly from a past life? (But I was so irreverent in that life, it would probably be an insult to worship them now, ehheh;;)

Do you fear darkly aspected Gods/Goddesses, or rather respect them?

They’re practically my guardian angels. (I’m a shadow witch; their domain is my source of power! My spirit guide is a creature of the darkness!) I deeply respect, and in moments revere them, though I don’t really worship any by name.

Do you worship the Christian God?

I didn’t even “get” him when I was taken to church every Sunday. Or when I spent a week at Missionettes camp. Or when I could feel every single other person in that big room being spiritually elevated, and it felt so positive, and yet, I couldn’t feel what they were connecting to. He has never made himself known to me, so I couldn’t if I tried.

Do you worship animals? Or plants?

I revere and respect their power, and I appreciate the messages they may carry from my matrons and local spirits. So in a sense, yes?

N A T U R E

Do you regularly commune with nature?

Not as often as I’d like to... but when I’m at work with the dogs outside, and the sky is clouded over with a strong, consistent breeze: I do reach out to the forest behind my workplace and gaze off into the sky.

Taken a camping trip just to talk to nature?

I wish! I’ve never really been alone on a camping trip. Someday I absolutely will, though~ (Even though the forest Mielikki connected to me is at a local metropark with no campgrounds, and no other forest has ever “opened its heart” to me that way... it’s still a powerful feeling.)

Describe the moment you felt closest to Mother Earth?

...It’s hard to pick just one, honestly. It must be moments in which I’ve talked to the trees, or sat in the river just to feel the ground beneath me, the water around me, to breathe and get lost in it until I became a part of it...

Do you have a familiar?

I might. I haven’t exactly been working with him lately, but my chinchilla Dusty came to me in a magical way. I dreamed about holding an off-white chinchilla with a singular spot. And then went into work the next day, and saw him there. A tiny white chinchilla, with one little gray spot, just like in my dream. I resisted, initially; I was still healing from the loss of my first chinchilla, and didn’t quite trust myself? But he stayed in that cage for awhile, maybe a month, and as I took care of them, he gradually started coming closer and closer, losing his nerves, growing braver, growing closer... and then grooming me! We bonded, but he would still avoid everyone else in the store. Then one day, as I was debating whether it would be the right time to take him home, I heard the lyrics played on the radio: “Dreams do come true, from out of the blue”. So I took it as a sign, and now? He’s so very highly attuned to my moods. He gets excited when I’m excited, even if I’m just sitting there smiling at my computer screen. He runs to hide when I’m feeling frightened. He sits at the cage door and watches me when I’m getting lost in contemplation, and he seems to “join me” in peaceful meditation, and will curl up and sleep. He followed me around my room when I was setting high-powered defensive wards around it in the apartment, and if I lowkey enchant his veggies, he’ll always go for the one I was holding first.

I haven’t figured out how to incorporate a chinchilla into meditations or spellwork yet... (buuut it’s hard to rework something you’re not really doing lately, yikes.)

Have you ever called upon the powers of an animal in ritual? Or a plant?

Plants, definitely-- just today, I stirred a little ginger into my soup (to help with my perpetual stomach trouble), and worked a little magic to pull out all its healing properties I could. During meditation, I often have animal guides coming to aid me, or direct me, or watch over me, or just stop by to see what I’m doing. And of course, there was my old familiar, a tangerine ring-neck dove named Fizzy, who used to sit with me in meditation, watch over me in rituals and lend his flight to my prayers and spells, and I used his feathers in travel and creativity spells. 

Do you hug trees?

Not traditionally. I do lean against them when communing, though.

Give them gifts?

Ooh, no, but that’s a good idea. (I have adopted other gifted plants that others didn’t want, though.)

What are your favorite plants to work with?

Ooh, that’s tricky! Peppermint, maybe? Meadowsweet and heal-all remind me of a very dear witchy friend. Sandalwood usually has great results for me, but incense tends to dilute them... Probably pine above all, actually! It’s special to Mielikki, it smells wonderful, the trees are resilient and never mind giving a few needles or boughs, and the softer, enduring energy blends really well with my gentle persevering nature.

What are your favorite trees to work with?

See above. c: Closely followed by willow and hawthorn.~

What is your favorite holiday?

Definitely Samhain/Halloween!

What is your least favorite holiday?

Beltane, Litha, and to a degree, Lammas. I can’t do the ~summer energy~ thing, it makes me feel like I’m burning up and overstimulated. Moonlight rituals aren’t as bad, but I still tend to pass out in the heat, so, you know... Very Hard to Get Witchy when you’re seeing spots and your head is swimming. (The energy overstimulation doesn’t hit me as hard as it used to, not on the front end, but I don’t have as much time to dedicate to meditation and cleansing anymore, so it builds up more quickly anyways.)

Have you ever held a ritual on a holiday?

Quite often! Well, assuming Esbats count. I used to do mini-rituals for every single Wiccan holiday that I wasn’t doing a full-blown prayer/meditation session for. But that only lasted a year or two, because the story behind them didn’t really connect with me anymore.

Ever taken a day off work to celebrate a Pagan holiday?

I did, one Samhain when I had requested off and my boss just forgot. I opened up about it, as long as he promised not to laugh, and told him it’s a spiritual day for me, and he gave me the day off. Nowadays I at least request Samhain off when I can afford to, but lately my finances don’t really allow me that luxury. lP

Do you celebrate Yule on the 21st rather than the 25th?

You know, sometimes it’s the 20th and sometimes it’s the 22nd, but yes~ Back when I was 16ish, I would wake up on the morning of the solstice and watch the sun rise, to feel out the new year and perform a ritual of “planting seeds” for the coming year... hmm. Considering all the big life goals I’ve been setting lately, maybe I should get back into that routine....

[benlaksana]

Hope and hopelessness

I grew up as a Catholic, went through the rituals of baptism and even catechism. Which up to this day I’m not entirely sure what that actually means. This just shows how much of a Catholic I am. To be honest I never really understood why I went through all that, but I guess peer pressure can often take you to places you never intended to go to. This remains true to this day, although to a lesser extent. I think.

Interestingly enough I consider my family as half-heartedly religious. By that I mean, the only person I considered religious in my family was my father. Sunday churches, prayers before dinner, my dad was central in reminding us to do these religious chores. Everyone else just went with the flow of the spiritual (and moral) ideals of the man of the house.   

Although I was never particularly religious, and have now perhaps shaken off whatever Catholic/Christian labels I have left in me (not that I had much to begin with that is), I did always know though based on this religious upbringing that I was a minority in Indonesia. The obligatory religious identity written on our national identity cards constantly reminded me of this. However, I didn’t at that time understand the implications of having such an identity even if it was purely administrative purposes.

However, to be honest, my experiences of growing up as a minority didn’t necessarily make me feel like a minority. Even if most of my schooling that I went through in Indonesia, which amounts to a hefty 11 years of my youth, were mostly in private Catholic schools, the schools and universities were open to non-Catholics. And so, I made friends, very good friends with non-Catholics, non-Christians, and of course with many Muslims. The predominant religion in Indonesia.

This was never an issue for me. As my own late grandfather from my mother’s side was a Muslim and a huge chunk of my family up until this day are Muslims. The majority-minority labels and the baggage that comes with it were not non-existent but just unimportant in my life. It was a bit foreign or even odd if someone were to bring it up trying to solidify a magical boundary between us and them. Religion was never a hindrance towards building family ties, friendship or even my own personal pursuit in finding love. I think I can honestly say that building relationships with people of differing religious backgrounds was just normal. Mundanely normal.

I had the naivety (and to be honest I think I still continue to do so) that the difference in personal religious beliefs could always be transcended by the realization of how as human beings we are fundamentally no different from each other. Physically, emotionally and first and foremost existentially. Everyone had blood coursing through their veins, feeding their minds and hearts that gives birth to emotions that we all can understand and relate to. And everyone has and will continue to ask, some through openly written pieces and public discourses, some secretly during their morning showers, of the meaning of life or how to have a meaningful life or variations of this question.

Basically, I just saw religious differences as inconsequential in building relationships, again be it romantic or platonic, as we all are tormented by the same wish to understand our existence, our individual importance in a vast sea of people.

This somewhat fatalist view of diversity is I guess the reason why I felt that I could connect, befriend, be respected, and be truly loved by all regardless of their religious beliefs. Which then made me feel part of something bigger than myself. I had a sense of belonging with the society, my Indonesian society. My approach to religious diversity was of course, I soon found out, not shared by all, not even many.

Fast forward this a few years later and it is overtly apparent that Indonesia is embroiled in sectarian tensions and conflicts and it turns out, to my dismay, has historically always been that way. Perhaps not as alarming as today but nonetheless it is nothing new.

In the past few years, I’ve witnessed how some of my personal relationships with friends, neighbours, family, have changed. Outlooks on life, social values and morals have been reshaped through a more conservative and many times segregated lens. Collective ideas or wishes of where Indonesia should be headed have become vastly different. A widening gap of the social imagination imagined by the divided imagined community.

I find it sad if not tragic that my own academic research only reaffirms this, and it seems that Rara’s research so far also confirms this.

Truthfully, at times like this, I feel disconnected, disenchanted, alienated & most definitely I feel powerless. I feel that my connection with this nation-state called Indonesia, that my citizenship, my legal, cultural, emotional connection with the land I was born in is useless and pointless.

And I write this in English, not in my so-called native tongue of Indonesian. With the reason being English is the language I grew up with (due to the privilege of having a highly-educated family). English has become my most fluent language, the one that I am most comfortable with, it is the language I think in. If I were to use Indonesian in speaking, my brain would take a few precious seconds translating it before sputtering it out. It has helped me though to listen more, deep listening, that it in itself is quite positive I reckon. Especially living in a society where people are wanting more to be heard. If I were to use Indonesian for writing, it is a tremendously taxing effort, thankfully for this I have Rara to help me edit many of my writings. And I truly understand that by using English as my main communicating language I am alienating myself even further.

I am a minority in many ways aside from my ‘legal religion’ or my ideas on life and society. 

I do though find the innocence of many Indonesians amusing if not briefly alluring when they talk how beautiful Indonesia’s natural scenery is, or how diversely unique Indonesia is, or how resource rich Indonesia is blessed with and most certainly how patriotic Indonesians are with their red and white flags. Often quite excessively. Sometimes even drawing from historical footage of our brave forefathers fighting against Dutch and Japanese colonialism to make their point. They all seem to be blissfully unaware of the deep-seated issues continuously dividing Indonesians. Issues of religious and social conservatism, ahistorical understandings and normalized injustices just to name a few, so deeply ingrained within the consciousness of many.

Some might say then that ignorance is bliss. But then I would think that we would then be unaware how often unseen structural forces governs our lives. We would live life, at many times in anger, sadness or even despair yet oblivious of its deep structural causes. Then if that is the case, does knowledge of which give us the impenetrable sight to see these determining hands of our lives, also provide us with the pleasure of knowing such a thing? Does knowing give us hope? Is hope essentially about not only knowing more of the conditions in which we live in but also by knowing these conditions we would then find some form of solution that gives us hope in return. 

I feel more of a minority today than when I was in high school or university which come to think of it was more than 10 years ago. To have gained the knowledge to see how remnants of colonialism, a gripping hold of state capitalism, seeping neoliberalism, persistent feudalism, ever-growing fundamentalism, consuming consumerism, and a dumbing education system have all been rolled into one. This knowledge is either damning or enlightening or a sad mixture of both, reflecting nothing more than the contradictory nature of the human being. It is not just the condition of which my society is in that I often weep for, but the lack of progress within these shameful areas that disheartens me. I do in many way feel hopeless.

I am sure Indonesia will become “makmur” or wealthy in the near future. Economists have prophesied this, partially thanks to our abundance in population and our unhinged consumeristic lifestyle. But the increase of wealth does not automatically translate into a more critical, inclusive, democratic citizen, which we desperately need in a precarious time such as now. We would need much more than wealth. Nor does Indonesia’s damning current education system provide such a thing. Those who only actively support such a system, in whatever they do, I only see them as accomplices in preserving the uncritical state of Indonesia’s citizens.

What I then struggle with now is the constant oscillation between hope and hopelessness, the comprehension and acceptance of my current reality and the possibility of some kind of better future. I am looking for a more consistent form of hope.

Come to think of it, it would be foolish for me to define the singular nature or source of hope. Hope I’ve come to realize, can be one, it can be many, it can move wildly from one to another. It can evolve from one to many, or be reduced from many to one. Hope is everything that gives value to one’s soul. 

I guess this is where my fusion of social sciences, which I understand is becoming more grounded in Marxist-Freirean views on critical citizenship, and engaged Buddhism kicks in. Where I’ve noticed over the years has become a constant endeavour to find consensus between the two (liberation theology of revolutionists from South America is a clear influence to this though). As what gives value to one’s life, to my life, is what I consider to be deeply personal, a deep insight into the self yet at the same time intertwined with being more empathetically responsive to my socio-political milieu.

However, while my interest and empathy towards society is one of the main driving force of my social activities, what gives me hope to act towards societal injustices resides within my personal relationships. Especially my relationship with Rara. This I’ve noticed can become an issue. I often would think what it would be like if she is no longer here with me? What would happen to me?

I am afraid to lose Rara, as my life clearly rotates around her presence. That is why I fear the inevitable. What do you do when you have the experiential knowledge that life will end? What do you do with this understanding? What do you do when you try to escape from this, and realize that you will only eventually return to this. That there is no escape, only temporary forgetfulness or deliberate denial. What if I were the one to pass away? What would happen to Rara?

Rara is perhaps not only my source of hope, but she is hope itself. It is what the anthropologist Michael D. Jackson, while studying the Kuranko tribe of Sierra Leone, calls on alternative names of hope. Rara is the alternative name of hope for me. She is what gives value and meaning in my life. Other issues, I can clearly attest to this, are secondary.

I do though realize I ask these questions because I am traumatized, greatly traumatized by my father’s quick and sudden death 5 years ago. And I’ve realized it has been that long and I have yet to move on from it. I guess I’ve come to accept that there is no magic cure for grief, no magic drug that can easily lift this burdensome pain away. You end up just living with it, carrying it everywhere, every time. During your highest and proudest moments in life, during the lowest, most depressing moments in life. Both of which amplifies grief. One through the desire to share your achievements with your loved one, whom you then realize is no longer here. The other is when you have nothing and wish your dad, who you realize is no longer here to come back for a brief moment and give you a pat in the back or a nice simple encouraging warm hug. And let us not also forget that we carry grief most often in the everyday mundanity of life. This is why grief is excruciatingly oppressive.

But until another excruciating day comes, I’ll be carrying this hope close with me wherever I go, and whatever I do. My work has to have value and meaning and for it to have value and meaning it has to come from a place of value and meaning. I remain hopeful of the world and of Indonesia and humanity in general because hope is the only thing that keeps us all from being pointless.

And watching the world pass by, at times with elongated sighs, I genuinely understand how easy it is to fall prey to the bottomless pit of futility.

Rereading what I just wrote, that probably didn’t make any sense, but hey at least I finally updated my blog after a year even if it was just unfinished thoughts.

[kiashaney]

Peru 2019

Latest Peru post! It’s been 2 weeks since I’ve posted about my South American journey/adventure. Where do I begin?! What an exciting and memorable experience it has been so far! So much has happened and I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting on my journey in Peru and my journey in the developing world overall AND trying to connect all the dots. Those who know and understand me best know that I am very much a macro-level, big picture and existential thinker and I really need to sit with and reflect on experiences to really make sense of them. So these are just some of my reflections and big takeaways as I seek to understand this leg of my journey and my experiences in the developing world overall AND how they fit into the larger picture of my life’s purpose and my mission.

I’ve always had a love for Latin American people, culture, and Spanish ever since I can remember. I was in the 8th grade in Springfield, MA when I first discovered the concept of “code switching.” I observed my Latino classmates effortlessly switching back and forth between English and Spanish (and combining the two to form Spanglish...lol) AND I thought to myself “I want to be able to do that! That’s so cool!!!” From that day to this one, it’s been a journey. A very interesting journey. A journey of language learning and cultural exchange. A journey that has allowed me to make friends with Latin Americans from many different countries. A journey that has allowed me to work for several Latino immigrant and refugee serving non-profit organizations and work alongside Latino professionals from many different countries throughout my career. A journey that has taken me to both Latin America and Africa. An eye-opening and transformative journey that has truly changed my perspective, expanded my worldview and helped to develop my Spanish speaking skills to an advanced level (and my Arabic speaking skills to a basic level). Praise be to Allah (God)!!! 🙌🏾🙏🏾❤️

Developing countries are beautiful on so many levels. However, I’m reflecting on the fact that I’m surrounded by so much majestic and spectacular beauty AND so much poverty and inequality at the same time. Whether it’s Peru, El Salvador, Mexico, Sudan, or Niger. All of the developing countries I have been blessed to travel to have this in common. AND despite the people being poor economically, they are so RICH in soooo many other ways. RICH in generosity, RICH in spirit, RICH in cultural pride, RICH in LOVE, RICH in potential, etc. This has been my experience and one of my main takeaways in every developing country I’ve been blessed to travel to. And I’m very grateful for these experiences that have informed my perspective and expanded my worldview in innumerable ways.

Water!!! 💧💦 Clean, hot water is such a precious commodity and a blessing! Citizens of the developed word truly take this for granted. I’m reflecting on my days of taking bucket baths in Sudan 🇸🇩 AND while this is not the case in Peru 🇵🇪, water that is clean and hot is still hard to come by. Whether I’m buying clean, bottled water to drink everyday or having to wait patiently for the water to warm up in my host family’s home AND then hopping in for a quick shower before it becomes freezing cold again—water is always on my mind. And I’m appreciating clean water and hot showers like never before.

I’m also reflecting on the fact that life in a developing country requires resourcefulness, patience, and savvy navigational skills that we often don’t have to utilize in the same way in the developed world. Whether learning to navigate the buses and “touk touks” in Sudan 🇸🇩 completely in Arabic OR learning to navigate the buses, taxis and “combis” in Peru 🇵🇪 completely in Spanish, I thank Allah (God) that I possess these skills now. AND I recognize that what used to take me 1-2 months or 1-2 weeks to figure out (in my younger years and early days of international travel), now only take me on average 1-2 days (with some variation, of course). AND in the larger context of developing country life, being quick on your feet, resourceful, and able to adapt and adjust quickly is an important skill set to possess. And it’s a transferable skill set that can be applied to many other areas of life.

Furthermore, I’ve been blessed to stay with a wonderful Peruvian host family (“una familia Peruana”) that is interested in other cultures, interested in people who are different from them AND committed to exposing their young daughters to the cultures of the world. This was demonstrated by the sounds of Nina Simone and Louis Armstrong playing in the background when I went to their vegetarian restaurant for the first time; the Indian statues and shrine in their living room representing perhaps a practice of Buddhism in a country that is mostly Roman Catholic; their enthusiasm as they told me all about their nine-year old daughter’s experiences in a bilingual school (where she is studying Spanish, English and French...so actually trilingual!); and their great interest in and curiosity for me as a Black-American Muslim woman raised in Islam. Thus, in addition to being very welcoming to me, they have demonstrated that they are open-minded people who, like me, value cultural exchange and seek to be citizens of the world.

My experiences here in Peru and around the world have taught me and continue to teach me the importance of community, language and culture AND strengthen my ability to be open to the cultures of others. These are the experiences that make up my larger journey, help me to explore the wider context, and encourage me to put things in a global perspective. And, of course, with the good comes the bad in life. So on this journey, there have also been many encounters with white privilege, white supremacy, poverty and inequality as I observe firsthand the unfair distribution of money, wealth, privilege, power and resources in the world that give new meaning to the definition of white privilege (i.e. “having greater access to power and resources than people of color [in the same situation] do”) AND I’ve also had many reminders that white supremacy and racism are alive and well in the world today. I thank Allah (God) for Black Consciousness and my ability to see, know, recognize and understand inequality and injustice when it rears its ugly head again and again.

Now on to HOOP, a wonderful and model NGO doing great work here in Arequipa, Peru to address inequality and poverty through education and social services!!! Last Saturday (07/06) was HOOP’s 7 year Anniversary and they celebrated with an AMAZING and MEMORABLE community and cultural celebration! HOOP gives HOPE to the community of Flora Tristan, an impoverished community located on the outskirts of Arequipa. And while Flora Tristan is economically impoverished and resource deprived in many ways, it is very RICH in soooo many other ways! RICH in spirit, RICH in culture and RICH in pride (just to name a few)! HOOP really is an amazing and wonderful community organization comprised of local community members, local and international volunteers and staff working to better the lives of children and families in Flora Tristan. And last Saturday, I had the pleasure of experiencing this amazing community in all its GLORY during HOOP’s 7 year Anniversary Celebration! Check out all the pictures and videos in this post! I tried to capture the most special and memorable moments as best I can! 😊❤️

I’ve had a lot of time to self-reflect, think, plan and work on self, while helping others (both in HOOP and in my virtual therapy practice, which is growing at a rapid rate and keeping me very busy here)! My private practice “Cultural and Linguistic Associates, LLC” has been birthed (soon to be renamed “Culturally Responsive Therapy Associates”) and I’m excited about what the future holds for me as a bilingual therapist serving multicultural populations! Praise be to Allah (God)! 👏🏾🙌🏾🙏🏾💪🏾✊🏾❤️

Finally, my mom arrives in less than a week and then we’re off to Machu Picchu (the famous Inca city in the mountains)! Very excited to share this journey/adventure with my mom and do something wonderful for her. She has always been and continues to be my biggest supporter!!! And I thank Allah (God) for her, my husband, and my family/friends.

Thank you all for your continued love and support! ❤️❤️❤️

[forsetti]

On Diversity: A Snapshot of My America

My main job is taking pictures of homes for real estate agents.  While most of the homes I photograph are in the upper-middle to high-end price range, I do take pictures in what can be described as blue-collar, working class areas.  One of my shoots yesterday was in one of these neighborhoods.  A neighborhood where the average home price is below the local median average.  A neighborhood where people take pride in their homes even when they don't always have the time or money to make them look as nicely as they want.  It was in just such a neighborhood that I was reminded not only what has always made America great but just how wrong and dangerous modern-day conservatives are to what really makes America great.

As I pulled up to the house, it looked like a thousand others in the area, a nicely landscaped Cape Cod with an American flag softly waving in the breeze from a pole in the front yard and a black Ford F-250 parked in the driveway.  I fully expected the owners to be the typical white, blue-collar working class people who heavily dominate this particular part of town.  When they opened the door, all I could think of was, “Never judge a book by its cover.”  Instead of the white, blue-collar worker I'd expected to see, I was kindly greeted by a Muslim woman in her early 40s wearing a hijab.   She introduced me to her equally kind husband and the two of them proceeded to be more friendly and helpful than any home sellers I've interacted with in months.  They offered me water.  They offered me coffee.  They offered me cake.  They moved with me from room-to-room making sure bedspreads were straight, pillows were fluffed, blinds were pulled, lights were on...  Usually, I cannot stand sellers even in the house when I take pictures, let alone bird dogging me.  If other sellers were as nice and helpful as this couple, I'd completely change this attitude.   While how they treated and helped me stood out, I still couldn't stop thinking about the contrast of the “book” and the “cover.”  While the outside of their home said, “All-American,” the artwork, paint colors, Qurans, and back addition with Arabic seating area of the the inside said, “All-Muslim.”  As I was going from room-to-room taking pictures, I kept thinking about the contrast of the home's external to internal characteristics.  I've shot many a home where the outside was very traditional but the inside was very contemporary.   The outside not jibing with the inside is nothing new.  However, this was very different.  This wasn't a contrast between architectural/design styles.  The more I thought about this particular contrast, the more I loved it.  I loved the blending of cultures because this is exactly what America is supposed to represent.  From China Town in San Francisco to the Polish part of Detroit to the Irish parts of Boston to the Mexican neighborhoods of Los Angeles, America stands for people coming from other lands, becoming part of the whole but still maintaining a love and appreciation of their heritage.  

If all I had experienced was the contrast of the exterior to the interior of the home, that would have been more than enough to reaffirm my faith in what America is supposed to represent.  What happened as I was taking the exterior shots took these feelings of diversity, what America really represents, and just how dangerous and evil the rightwing hate machine are to the entire system.

While I was outside taking pictures, the owners came out to make sure things were picked up.  While they were in the front of the house straitening out a couple of chairs on the front porch, a couple of their neighbors who were out in their yards doing work came over to chat.  By the time I worked my way around to the front of the house, standing on the front sidewalk were the Muslim owners, an African-American man in his early 30s, and an older white man in his late 60s having a conversation that ranged from landscaping to auto repair to kids/grandkids to restaurant suggestions.  If I described the scene and read you the text of the entire conversation with a Texas accent, it would read like a “King of The Hill” script.

What really struck me wasn't the nature of their conversation, it was very similar to ones I heard growing up in rural Idaho.  It was very similar to ones I've heard in the neighborhoods of Chicago.  It was very similar to conversations that take place every day across the country from Girdwood Alaska to Mobile Alabama.  In spite of the diversity of the participants-their ages, their religions, their cultures, their backgrounds..., they had fundamental experiences, wants, needs, desires... in common.  What struck me was this scene being played out in an average-sized town in the Rust Belt is the direct opposite of what the right-wing and white nationalist hate machines spew out non-stop every day.

The scene I witnessed is what America really is all about and what modern-day conservatives and their very overlapping Venn Diagram counterparts, white supremacists fear the most.  They fear this kind of neighborly camaraderie.  They fear that diversity really isn't a problem because they are beholden to their ignorant beliefs and hate that have been passed down to them by their ancestors and meticulously cultivated by fear mongers and grifters.  White flight didn't happen because minorities moving into predominately white areas caused problems.  White flight happened because whites were afraid of people that didn't look like them, didn't have familiar sounding names, had different points of view.  When white flight wasn't an option, whites hemmed minorities into very specific areas through redlining policies and practices.  

The racist and bigoted fears Donald Trump tapped into to win the election are based on lies about minorities and about the natural status of whites.  The scene I witnessed on the sidewalk of a quiet, little neighborhood was perfectly natural.  It was a scene that is played out across the country every day between neighbors.  When it played out between only whites the reason isn't because minorities don't know how or want to participate but because they haven't been welcomed to the neighborhood/town.  The wants, needs, fears, concerns... of people who have similar economic situations don't vary from one another very much.  This isn't a revelation.  Many studies have been done showing that people who live in multi-cultural, diverse areas are much more tolerant and have less racist/bigoted views than those who live in less diverse areas.  People exposed to other cultures and heritages are not as overly protective of their own. As much as I admire and appreciate people celebrating their heritage, it is something I've never personally experienced. I'm an Anglo-Saxon mutt.  My heritage is mostly English and Scottish and my ancestors came to America many, many generations ago.  I personally feel no love or bond with this heritage.  I feel closer to the culture and people of Japan from living there for two years than I do to my Western European roots.  This could be because I truly lived and experienced the one and not the other.  The Japanese culture is more ingrained into my psychological matrix than something I only have a distant genetic connection to.   Like all people and cultures, the Japanese have great traits and serious flaws. Because I'm a pragmatist at heart, the one trait they have that I admired the most is their ability, as a culture, to take an idea or behavior from another culture that is good, incorporate it into their own culture while not losing who they truly are.  I call this Ala Carte Culture.  You pick and choose what you like from other cultures, leave the bad aspects of these cultures behind, and absorb the good into your own culture in a way that doesn't diminish who you are.   A good example of this in Japan can be found in the saying, “In Japan, you are born a Shinto, married a Christian, and buried a Buddhist.”  When I first heard this saying, being a typical American, I couldn't wrap my brain around it.  Imagine someone in America telling you, “My kids will be born Jewish, married Lutheran, and buried Mormon.”  If someone told you this, you'd stare at them wondering what the hell they were talking about. In Japan, their phrase gets no such reaction from other Japanese.  It is accepted as being true.  “In Japan, you are born a Shinto, married a Christian, and buried a Buddhist,” bothered me for months until someone explained it to me. “Shintoism celebrates being born. Christianity celebrates getting married.  Buddhism celebrates death. The best celebrations and parties are what the Japanese adopted into their culture for each of these events.”   I love this idea. Why not take the best of other cultures and incorporate it into your own?  It's an idea that should fit perfectly with a country like America which was founded on cultural diversity.  If a homogeneous, often isolated country like Japan can do this, a country that is the “Great Melting Pot of The World” should not only be able to do this easily, it should be aggressively doing it.  Unfortunately, the open, diverse, all people are created equal society is the one resistant to learning from other cultures and the where the dominant group fears and demonizes those outside their group who want to honor, cherish, and incorporate the best parts of their own cultures.

This resistance and fear of other ideas and cultures are at the root of America's long, unjustifiable history of racism and bigotry.  “If it's white, it's right,” is the default mindset for white America. Who is allowed to be called “white” has been arbitrary throughout our history.  Jews were once not considered white.  Neither were Italians.  Neither were Germans.  Neither were the Irish.  Only once a group has been accepted as “white” are their cultural ideas and celebrations accepted.  White suburbia now doesn't give a second thought to their kids celebrating St. Patrick's Day at school but if the school decided to celebrate Kwanzaa with as much enthusiasm, they'd lose their damn minds. Irish-Americans love and honor their heritage to the same degree as Mexican-Americans, Muslim-Americans, African-Americans...  The main reason we, as a country, don't care about or think twice about Irish-Americans or other “white” nationalities celebrating their heritage is because they have been accepted into the “white club.”  Celebrating and honoring one's heritage isn't the problem for racists and bigots.  It's who gets to do it.

In the America that claims to be the “Great Melting Pot,” where for the first time in history a government was formed on the idea that all people are created equal, where diversity is supposed to be our greatest strength, the tableau I witnessed represented everything America can and should be.  It was also stark counter-evidence to one of the main claims of white nationalists and the right wing that multi-culturalism can't work because non-whites won't/can't assimilate.  There are many problems with this claim: 1-it presumes white culture is the dominant one that everyone must assimilate to; 2-the entire notion of “white culture” is riddled with problems; 3-the evidence in diverse areas completely contradicts it.

My America is what I witnessed the other day on a sidewalk in a Rust Belt city.  My America isn't afraid of others celebrating their heritage.  My America isn't white-centric.  My America is the real America and no one will ever convince me otherwise.   The youth of my America know and feel this better than my peers.  This gives me hope for my children.  If only my generation gives them the opportunity to live up to what it means to be a real American better than my generation.

[windmillboy]

Late Night Thoughts 25ish whatever

Been awhile since I articulated my thoughts and emotions for posterity.  At risk of some of my newer friends/followers that I know irl, I’m gonna post this anyway.  Honestly, since I’ve grown closer to my already dear friend Eli, I genuinely haven’t felt any sort of “depression” or “anxiety” as I would’ve so called it years ago.  There may have been one or two episodes of such things (mostly over girls but hey watcha gonna do), but in general so long as he and I can hangout (which probably won’t stop for many years considering we’ve known each other since 3rd grade and go to the same college) everything seems like it’ll be okay, like good news is always on the way.  I dare venture to say that I’ve fallen in love with life again, for real though, like I did many years ago before I was ever in a relationship that in hindsight was extraordinarily toxic for both of us.  Though it itself hasn’t weighed heavily on me I can’t say I ever felt happy about my place in life since before then and I have Eli and Julian to thank for always making me laugh and taking any serious situation and making me take it less seriously.  Since coming to university my life has changed considerably.  Just the merely living on my own has done me a world of good, just hope I can keep it up with how expensive college is.  Eli once told me about his relationship with his dad and how much he really loves his dad, he showed me pictures of them dressing up together for halloween and how he wants to have a son so he can become like his dad, so I think tonight I’ll talk about my dad.  My father and I have always been at  odds for as long as I can remember.  Since moving away he and I seem to have become closer though.  The car rides he and I take to and from University are honestly some of my best memories with my dad.  And since those rides, I remember the happy stuff more.  Before I moved, whenever I thought about my dad, I’d remember all the times he beat me for crying, the times he abused my mom, all the times he just put me down.  But now...now I remember all those games of dominos at midnight while my mom slept and lectured me about sleeping earlier or especially that one game in the rain (not lining them up and knocking them down that’s a very white thing I think, every ethnic person I know always thinks of the actual game that they are meant to be played but that’s a story for another day),  I remember when we went to my cousin’s wedding we shared the living room his too brothers who snored so loud that in the middle of the night he says “Tri, you awake? you want to move somewhere quieter?”,  I remember every single book you made me read and every single essay you made me write.  when my grandma died and we only had enough money to send him to vietnam for the funeral...it was my birthday, I had just turned 14 and in the dead of night he had to leave to catch the flight...I was the only one he woke up and told me to study well...that felt like a dream,  all those times we’d drink tea together late at night in the sun room over looking the lake, all the times he showed me a new origami creation and how to make it, how to reverse engineer my toys and fix them, how he taught me to cook (something I take great pride in and apparently he does too according to my mom), I remember one time I was home alone (about 8 or 9) cause my mom had to take my sisters to school and it was snowing really badly and I got so scared I called my dad and he said if mom wasn’t back by the end of the hour he’d come home and spend the day with me (something that I now wonder what that would’ve been like),  I remember when I was very small staying home with my mom seeing him off to work and one day he forgot his glasses and I ran after him waving them in the air but he thought I was just waving goodbye so he kept driving,  I remember when I was really young I was terrified of illness and I got pneumonia and I blamed myself for why didn’t go on vacation that year and started crying because I thought I was going to die and my dad was the one that comforted me, I remember building my first computer with him, how he showed me to use power tools and solder things and how to use a knife though my mom gave me my first knife, when my mom was paralyzed from the waist down he was the one that cared for her when all I did was go out with my girlfriend at the time, and he even showed me how to draw which is the basis of my whole career now.  Even though we still fight, I think I’m honestly ready to forgive my dad.  Not like in the Lucille Clifton poem, but actually truly deep down I forgive my dad.  That also reminds me how he’s the one to have introduced me and made me think critically about every fucking movie I watch for better or worse.  Also he taught me about classic shakespear literature.  And how he taught me the premises of philosophy and made sure I was exposed to both his religion (Buddhism) and my mom’s (catholic).  He taught me to always look to improving yourself, to always keep my mind sharp, and oddly he was never the one to criticize my piano playing unless I became so mad I slammed the keys.  I remember he never talked down to me like a child.  Yeah he demanded respect unfairly at times in my opinion, but at least up until recently he no longer says “you’ll understand when you’re older” and perhaps something I’ve been arrogant about, but his English is’t as good as I think it is sometimes, something that genuinely scares me that one day I might not be able to talk to him when he gets older.  Lately the only thing he and I seem to be able to talk about is technology, a passion both he and I share.  I remember telling him how to build a full analog radio and the smile on his face was something I can’t say I ever saw before.  This last trip he told me his entire adolescent life before the war and when he escaped the communist regime.  My father’s past is something so mysterious to me.  He told me how he low key stole computer parts from other villagers with his brothers, how they would all get punished by his dad, how he worked pumping gas, how he built his first computer, how when he was younger he loved roller coasters but because my mom hates roller coasters he stopped going to amusement parks, how they give him a rush of life, but now that rush of life comes from other places like first having kids, how getting married changed his life completely, how he gave up smoking for my mom.  They say no matter what you become your father and in many ways I can already see it in me, but I no longer look at it like a curse, but a blessing.  At my uncles wedding my dad couldn’t attend because he’s always working out of state to support our family.  I’ve grow to really respect that now.  The pastor that adopted my parents here in america hadn’t seen my parents in more than 20 years that day, and they didn’t even get to see my dad.  That was also the first time they ever met me and my siblings.  I was only 14 at the time and was extraordinarily tired, but I remember the pastor took my mom aside, hugged her and said “[dad] did a fine job of raising those kids”.  At the time I laughed at that cause of how much pain I was in over this and that...but now, I think I turned out pretty okay, and my dad...he’s a good man at heart, it’s just how different it is here compared to Vietnam that he’s used to, something that I can’t even begin to imagine.  Now I know that he’s just worried about me.  Certainly there are things I’m still upset about, but I’ve grown much more understanding of his place in life as well as mine.  Couple days ago I called home and he was the only one awake to pick up, it was a quick check in but it felt good...All through out my life there have been many reoccurring nightmares but the one that has had the most presence through each stage in my life has been one that my dad died.  I’d always just fall to my knees crying in those dreams.  I would always just pound the ground and scream “why did you leave me”.  I remember the first time he had to leave to work out of state so my sister could go to college...at that point I was very angry with my relationship with my dad...but that night I cried, and that morning at went to my mom before my sisters woke up and just bawled my eyes out, I told her that I should be angry and that I am angry at him but I just couldn’t bare seeing him leave.  I remember I snuck out to the back of my house when he left just so I would be the last one to see him leave...it was a golden sunny day.  I didn’t cry when my sister left for college, I didn’t cry when I left for college, but that first night without my dad despite all the awful things just made me scared.  What if such and such was my last words to him?  Even now whenever he drops me off at my dorm I get scarred that maybe this is the last time I’d see him.  He never liked my driving especially since my accident.  But even still he always offers me the keys when it’s time to go back to school.  This one time I was getting sleepy and asked if I could pullover for him to take the wheel and he said it was fine for him to drive...I don’t know but that day when he drove me and just passed out...I felt like a baby again...my earliest memory is when I was in diapers and he came to pick me up from day care and I was always so happy cause he was always the first dad to pick up their kid...that day in the car when he took the wheel...I felt...safe, like a child being held by his father...

[lamoille-house]

Summer activities in Phuket

Located in the Southeast Asian region, Thailand is famous for its all year round tropical season and natural scenery. One city that comes to mind is Phuket. Phuket is a world famous holiday destination for those who like to relax and rewind during a holiday while having some adventures and explore a new place. Whether you are travelling with friends, family or kids, Phuket is suitable for all ages. As summer is around the corner, why not consider a holiday at Phuket. Here I have come up with a list of things you can do during summer in Phuket.

Beaches

I mean this is a no brainer, Phuket is famous for its beaches! So yes! Always spend time on the beach. There are so many beaches in Phuket to explore, it’s worth going to a couple, trust me.

Kata Noi Beach

Kata Noi Beach is one of the most famous beaches in Phuket. It’s truly like a paradise with its fine white sand. The scenery is amazing, when you arrive at Kata Noi Beach, you are greeted with the bluest ocean you’ve ever seen. Only a few minutes to walk from Kata Beach, Kata Noi Beach is nature’s hidden gem. As it’s relatively more remote than other beaches in Phuket, Kata Noi Beach is never crowded, making it the perfect place to relax. The beach is very clean, making it ideal for snorkelling and say hi to all the underwater animals. There are a few foot massage stalls on Kata Noi Beach, if your feet are sore after all kinds of activities, make sure to have a short massage and forget the worries.

Pa Tong Beach, Phuket 

If you are looking for a vibrant beach with different activities to do, then definitely head to Pa Tong Beach. Pa Tong beach is located on a resort island, there are a lot of hip bars and restaurants along the coast. The nightlife at PaTong Island is also amazing! Definitely check them out during the night. I mean partying by the beach, having the sea breeze blow on your face while dancing the night away and sipping cocktails, nothing gets better than that! During the day, there are a lot of things you can do. Apart from tanning, eating and having a drink, you can play all sorts of water sports. Pa Tong Beach also has the famous fine white sand and blue water. It’s both relaxing and exciting.

The Phuket Big Buddha

Buddhism is an important religion in Thailand. Whatever city you travel to in Thailand, you can see different Buddhist statues, but the Phuket Big Buddha is like no other. The entire Buddha is pearly white, during the day when the sun hits the Buddha its white jade exterior gets even shinier. It’s truly a goddess scene. This 45 meters high and 25 meters wide statue is the third tallest and biggest Buddha in Thailand. Apart from its dreamy exterior, the Phuket Big Buddha features a mix of Thai and Chinese architectural designs. You can see a peak of the Big Buddha everywhere in Southern Phuket. And likewise, located at Nakkerd Hills, you can enjoy a panoramic view of Southern Phuket. A friendly reminder for you, a modest dress code is required when visiting the Big Buddha, make sure your knees and shoulders are not showing and avoid wearing flip flops. Entry is free. And the Big Buddha is open to the public from 6am to 7pm, so plan your trip and outfits ahead of time.

Wat Chalong

Speaking of the importance of Buddhism in Thailand, Wat Chalong is definitely one not to miss. Built in 1837, Wat Chalong is one of the most important temples in Phuket. Not only is it the most respected Buddhist temple in Phuket, it is also the biggest and most visited. The temple’s walls and ceilings are all painted with the Buddha’s important stages in life. The temple has three floors, housing a lot of rare gold Buddhist statues. Many locals come to Wat Chalong temple to pay respect to monks in the temple. Two of the most important ones are Luang Pho Chaem and Luang Pho Chuang, they led the citizens to fight against the Chinese rebellion in 1876. They also used herb medicine to heal the injured. The Wat Chalong temple is a very revered place; so a modest dress code is required, make sure your knees and shoulders are covered. Like any other Buddhist temples in Thailand, you are required to take off your shoes when entering the temple. The temple is open from 7am to 5pm, if you want to avoid the crowd, be sure to get there early.

Karon View Point

The nice sunny weather means a day spent outdoors. It doesn’t need to be hard-core sports. Simply a small hike up a mountain will do. Karon View Point is located at the Kho Sam Haad, which means ‘The Hill of the Three Beaches’. At Karon View Point, you can enjoy a 360 view of South Phuket and the famous three beaches – Kata Noi Beach, Kata Beach and Karon Beach. When you reach Karon View Point, there’s a pavilion for you to sit down, have some snacks and water, enjoy the scenery and take some awesome pictures. As mentioned early, you can see all three beaches from the Karon View Point, and of course the water is extremely blue. It’s like the sky and the ocean are connected together.

Phuket Town Night Market

End your day by spending it in the busy and vibrant Phuket Town Night Market. Phuket Town Night Market is also known as the Weekend Night Market and the Naaka Market. I mean only a famous market can have that many names! This enormous night market is always crowded. There you can find all sorts of fun things, making it the perfect place to get something unique for yourself as well as your loved ones back home. There are also a lot of amazing street food stalls in the market, so don’t worry about dinner. Just head to Phuket Town Night Market and try all those delicious local street foods.

I’m sure by now you are captivated by the beauty of Phuket. Fly with Cathay Pacific now and check on flight ticket booking to Phuket!

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[nightrainlily]

DAY SEVEN: ART IN CROISSANTS, PERFUME, AND SCULPTURE

we’re old pros now. we woke up early and caught the train at three bridges to Victoria, then beelined to the Victoria tube line, took that to Green Park, then took the Piccadilly line to Leicester Square, then walked to Covent Garden. if you can keep up with all that, you’re a local.

we stopped for breakfast and finally coffee. we haven’t had coffee since we left Sweden, and we became really caffeine dependent on the dark, smooth Swedish blends during our stay there. going cold turkey was hard, and Joelle and I were feeling it. we each got our favorite drink (a latte for Jo, a cappuccino for my mother, and an americano for me), and were absolutely overjoyed when they arrived at the table. I had strong crema. I knew it was going to be a good day.

my breakfast was also delicious (I’m going to talk about food a whole lot in this post, so if that’s not your thing, you might want to skip to day eight). I had a broiled grapefruit and granola, which may sound simple but really was just so very satisfying. side note: some people say that almond milk tastes like dirty water and that it’s terrible, but honestly I could drink it by the gallon. it’s so creamy! and smooth! and delicious! Joelle had coconut yogurt with pistachios (we all agreed pistachios are a seriously underrated yogurt topping) and this croissant that I could actually hear flake when she bit it. Joelle loves croissants—she gets excited thinking about how good the croissants are going to be in France—and my mother and I are encouraging her to start a croissant blog, the content of which will be ratings of croissants by flake, butter content, taste, cost, pull value, size, golden brownness, etc. she tells me this one was an eight out of ten; too much pull and too little flake, but the coloring was a perfect buttery bronze. once our caffeine kicked in, we were in high, high spirits. way up there.

the three of us are fond of quieter, cleaner spaces, like Kensington and Covent Garden. we walked through tea shops, parfumeries, and chocolatiers. the rows of stalls of the jubilee market stand on the outskirts of the square, where artisans and merchants sell their wares. I bought a tiny stamp of an “a” in the art deco style to use on my letter seals. oh, the things I do for my pen pals.

back to the topic of perfume: the word itself is derived from latin which translates to “through smoke.” Romans, Persians, and Arabs each developed their own versions of the latin original. what we call perfume in the states is actually a range of products which include eau de cologne (seven percent concentration), eau de toilette (ten percent concentration), eau de parfum (fifteen to twenty percent concentration), and actual perfume (forty percent concentration). I gravitate towards clean but also spicy scents; the one I’m wearing the most right now is coipaba balsam, palo santo, and cyprus. I found three blends today that I liked: a bergamot, oudwood, and birchwood one; a bergamot, agar wood, and geranium one; and a lemon, camellia leaves, and iris one. I only recently started to appreciate perfume and the niceness of a scent. I’m a musician, so when I think about art, I most often think of sound, but of course visual art is the most prominent form, and performance as well. only recently have I realized that the sense of smell can also factor into artistic expression as well; in the same way that a chef crafts a sensory experience, someone who crafts smells is also an artist.

after we felt we’d fully explored the Covent Garden area, we walked to the British Museum. we sort of came around the side, and then suddenly it was looming over us, stretching on for city blocks. its architectural influences include the greek revival style, which manifests in huge portico with forty four columns overlooking the street. the entrance opens onto the great court, a circular space in the center of the museum that is five stories high, centered around the reading room. the light filtering in from the cloudy sky today gave the marble room a gray cast, which seemed to me perfect museum-viewing weather.

some of the British Museum’s most renowned pieces are from ancient Greece, which include The Thinker and remains of the Parthenon. the only other public viewing opportunity for the Parthenon is in Greece, where the rest of the pieces still remain. the figures especially are exquisite—the folds of dresses fluttering in the wind, the detail of facial hair, the realness of human anatomy and movement. the ability to turn stone into figures that feel truly alive is something to witness and appreciate, if you ever get the chance.

the other section where we spent the most time was the Asian exhibit. our highlights from those rooms were the Chinese pottery, incredibly well preserved and incredibly detailed, pieces from South Asia centered around Hinduism and Buddhism, and the life-size model of a Korean scholar’s home. whereas the Greek rooms were mostly white marble, the Asian art was vibrant in both design and coloration. I saw the sculpture of the god Shiva, dancing in a ring of flame which conveys the Hindu belief that time is cyclical. some postage stamps in the modern section of the room show Kazi Nazrul islam, a Indian poet during the Indian revolution. the special room of jade sculptures had pieces ranging in size and delicacy, but all were beautiful and reminded me of the small gifts my grandfather used to bring home from Korea.

I didn’t even talk about the Rosetta Stone, but you get the gist of that. it was amazing. I felt like I was in the presence of a god.

I keep a list of professions I would pursue if I could live infinitely and money were no object. it includes: florist, music producer, magazine editor, professor, and now, museum curator. I love organization and the process of finding beautiful or interesting things. my blog, I suppose, is a form of curation, and my playlists definitely scratch that itch as well. to become an expert on something, to know more about it than almost anyone in the world, is a gift which gives you the power to enrich peoples’ lives. in his book The Tipping Point Malcolm Gladwell discusses three types of people: connectors, mavens, and salesmen. I would like to think I’m a maven, because I so enjoy learning about things and then disseminating that information to specific outlets that will most appreciate it. I think I get it from my mom, who reads the newspaper and clips articles for the people she loves. I take that concept to the next level. and being a museum curator would be the next next level.

although we didn’t get through every room, or even every floor, of exhibits, the museum was set to close and we were dead on our feet. we set off towards a row of restaurants, and as I looked around on the map, I saw a By Chloe. I’ve wanted to eat at a By Chloe for literally years, but the locations in L.A. and New York never quite made it into the family vacation itinerary. by the time we got there we were so hungry we could hardly stand, but just seeing the menu rejuvenated me. a lot of people ask me if being vegan is hard because I miss certain foods, but restaurants like By Chloe really fill the gap. I ordered a spicy Thai salad (on brand much?) and a side of mac and cheese, because I feel like if you’re a vegan offered mac and cheese and you don’t take the opportunity to at least try it, you’re probably doing it wrong. my mother got the same salad as me and a cauliflower soup, and Joelle got a taco salad (also on brand. another side note: Joelle’s list of her favorite foods does not include any Mexican dishes, but she’s ordered it consistently when we’re out and says that’s what she’s missed most since leaving home. this girl loves her Mex). and we got sweet potato and regular fries. with beet ketchup. and chipotle aioli. basically, we were feasting and I was in heaven. I’m always grateful when my friends and family compromise and eat at vegan restaurants, so thanks for fulfilling my dreams, guys!

then we stopped for gelato, and although I didn’t get any I’m going to talk about it anyway because it looked really good: my mother got coffee and dark chocolate, and Joelle got cheesecake and dark chocolate (another one of Joelle’s favorite, most beloved foods: cheesecake). there are gelato shops, and good gelato too, on every corner in this city. we love that.

and although we were in an unfamiliar area, we walked a block or two and found an underground station, read the map, and took it home. the London underground is by far the easiest public transportation system I’ve ever used, and I so appreciate the frequent stops, clean trains, logical signage, and ease of access to other lines. we’ve been able to get around entirely on our own, without any major mishaps. like we haven’t even gotten lost once. I count that as a victory.

today was rich. I think I speak for all of us when I say we’re feeling full-up of art, culture, and good food.

signing off,

amaya

1. Dedicated to the One I Love - The Mamas and the Papas

2. But Not for Me - Chet Baker

3. Something Soon - Car Seat Headrest

[karpedayam]

July 9: Day 49

Today was the most incredible day. It didn’t start so incredible as I slept through Dr. Rehka’s phone-calls telling me that we were leaving for Sargur early, but the medical students slept in too LOL. We got on the road around 9 which was good. The drive was so beautiful, I’m excited to be in a more rural place with fresh air and less noise. I was also feeling so excited and in disbelief that I’m lucky enough to have an opportunity to shadow Ayurvedic doctors. I still remember when Aunt Mary gave me the book about Ayurveda when I was like 12 years old, and now here I am almost 10 years later getting to fulfill this passion of mine it’s so humbling. I thought a lot today about the people who’ve supported me over the years, and my incredible professors at Mount Allison who have done the absolute most to help. I’m truly blessed. I have so much love for the Religious Studies department and everything this degree and my professors have given me. I’ve talked about coming to India and doing this kind of thing forever and I just can’t believe it’s really happening.

Anyway, we got to Sargur to our hostel and luckily my friend Laura from Iowa requested that I room with her and Kuann (they’re best friends with Anger so this works PERFECTLY). After resting and unpacking, Kuann and I went to lunch and then I met with Dr. Monhar who’s in charge of us and our academics to talk about what I wanted to do. I’ll mostly be shadowing Dr. Abhingya, an Ayurvedic doctor in patient consultations, procedures, and talking with her about specific questions and learning about the theory and history of Ayurveda. Dr. Monahar said I could also observe in the OB/GYN ward and maybe even some live births which would be AMAZING.

I met with Dr. Abhignya in the afternoon and we ended up having several hours of conversation; it was incredible. She asked me what I knew about Ayurveda and how I got interested in it, and then we talked about its history. Apparently Buddhism has a really violent history and tried to wipe out the traditional Vedic knowledge through burning libraries and things like that. Knowledge was stolen to China/Tibet which is why they’re so similar to Ayurveda (I’ve written about this in classes before but this violence was never emphasized. The narrative is very much “this knowledge traveled along the Silk Road” and I can’t believe I never questioned the passivity of that statement. It’s interesting because this same kind of non-violent narrative is what we see in museums/textbooks about colonial Canada when we know in reality it certainly wasn’t non-violent i.e. at the Museum of History in Ottawa there was this narrative of “Indigenous peoples faced issues such as smallpox” and it’s like ... yeah because it was intentionally and violently done to wipe them out!).

ANYWAY, I’ve read some scholarly debates about Ayurveda’s Vedic origins. Some scholars say it didn’t necessarily exist in Vedic times as we know it today: that reaching for roots in the Vedas (i.e. in the Rig Veda and Atharva Veda) isn’t necessarily accurate nor does it mean that Ayurveda as a practice is that old. Some scholars then claim that it was finessed much later as “Ayurveda” but claimed Vedic origins to validate itself and thus these were later Brahmanical additions. I think the latter is partially true but it goes a bit deeper in light of what Dr. Abhignya told me. If the tradition was being threatened people would necessarily try to preserve it through writing etc. This got us on the topic of different knowledge systems. We know lots of traditional indigenous cultures were oral-based, so why would you write something down if it’s not being threatened? Why would you try to categorize the practice Ayurveda if it’s just part of the natural harmonious way of life you live? So perhaps it was finessed and categorized as “Ayurveda” at the time when it was threatened by Buddhists etc. but that doesn’t necessarily mean it wasn’t Ayurveda before that, it was just different priorities in different knowledge systems. It would make sense that the tradition became more distinct and efforts would be made to connect it to its Vedic history if the tradition was being threatened in order to safeguard, validate, and preserve it. But just because these Vedic ties might be later additions doesn’t mean they’re false, it could just mean that in a non-threatened knowledge system validating the tradition might not have been a priority. Textual authority is always so necessary to validate things in our dominant knowledge system and it clashes so much with Indigenous knowledge systems.

This also relates to research Dr. Abhignya has been doing in tribal communities nearby at Kenchanahalli (the place with the Ayurvedic garden - they’ve been holding alcohol-abstinence camps for tribal members). They have implemented an integrated approach to healing alcohol addiction through Ayurvedic and allopathic therapies but she’s been frustrated as it’s hard to accurately represent the work being done through statistics. Statistics are about generalizations and they are part of the scientific Western knowledge system and therefore they won’t accurately represent a knowledge system which is founded on treating people as individuals and not making generalizations. The whole point of Ayurveda is that it doesn’t fit within this knowledge system. This reminded me a lot of efforts in Canada in Indigenous communities reviving spirituality and traditional medical practices to address these issues, so we talked about that for awhile. She was very interested in this and she really wants our experience this week to be about knowledge sharing which I think is really cool. She’s interested about not only Indigenous history and practices in Canada, but also about how the West perceives Ayurveda so I think it’ll be a really interesting week learning from each other. I also told her about the Ayurvedic cookbook I made for my Hinduism course this spring and she was really excited about it! She said it might be useful to her and her patients to provide more food suggestions.

Anyway, I went back to my room and Kuann, Laura and I had some interesting conversations as usual. We did this exercise where in a minute you complete the sentence “I am ___” with as many descriptors as you can think about yourself. It was an exercise that has shown the impact of identity in that most of the time, white/heterosexual/cisgender etc. people don’t write those labels, but if you’re from a community that has been disenfranchised/oppressed, you’re more likely to write those descriptors as your race/ethnicity/sexuality etc. has been called into question and made political more often. I thought this was really interesting. It has a lot to do with identity as well because this applies if you come from a distinct place, for example I put “Cape Bretoner” because that is a very distinct identity. Shavano also joined us so that was nice, we all talked for a long time about political stuff. Shavano and Kuann are from the Bahamas, Laura’s parents are Mexican immigrants, and my dad is an immigrant so it’s cool to be able to talk about this kind of stuff together since we all have such unique backgrounds.  

Really enjoying the food here, it’s more simple than in Mysore but really tasty.

[bad-charma-blog]

Day #3 - The Oracle

Background: In the tradition of the oracle, the oracle’s consciousness leaves his body in a deep meditative state. The gods/spirit then enter his body and tell the people of the future. While in the trance, the oracle has extraordinary physical abilities - he whips his neck while wearing a great, heavy hat - one that would normally break his neck. After the trance, the oracle has no recollection of the event; additionally, his body is completely worn. 

We woke up at 5:15AM and headed up to the city to see the oracle. The oracle we went to see was the Dalai Lama’s oracle - therefore many hundreds, if not thousands, of people are eager to see him. When we arrived, we sat next to the stage in a great temple. Every surface was covered in color and design. All of the monks gathered around as the oracle went to sit in his seat. The monks dressed the oracle in an unbelievably large and ornate coat - along with a hat. The dressing process took several minutes. Like a theatrical production, as the monks and oracle began to move on the stage, the viewers fell silent and the collective energy spiked. 

Loud horns and wind instruments were blown. The monks rhythmically murmured in prayer together. Next to me, several older women were fervently praying. One spun a wheel, closed her eyes, and cried. Another older woman next to me, initially joyful and sociable, now vigorously swayed back and forth. She firmly pressed her heavily creased hands together in a prayer position. She would pause sporadically to look at me and to hit my leg. I wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell me. Contrastingly, on my other side, a nun casually filmed the experience on her iPhone. I was struck by the two unexpected and distinct experiences of the women.

As the monks stood in a semi-circle in front of me, many of the women and children pushed through the monks’ legs and grabbed at their robes to get a better view. Some of the monks sympathetically took a step back; others shot disapproving looks down. After a long, long series of sounds, chants, and incense - the oracle’s eyes began to flicker. He profusely sweat and the monks’ wiped the drops from his face. Suddenly his eyes shot open and his tongue curled and flexed in his mouth. With sword and bow in hand, he began a traditional dance. I grew fearful as this seemingly consumed being wielded a sword in this a densely populated setting.

After the dance, the oracle planted himself back on the throne and began to ramble off words. The monks gathered round to write down what he was saying. As he spoke, his head swayed and twitched; his eyes widened and shut. He appeared completely possessed. 

The people began to form a long line to be blessed by him. People in the line were aggressive - we had to keep moving in order to keep our position. It was worse than many music festival crowds. Outside the door, the monks strained to use their bodies to hold the great crowd back. I was wholly grateful for this unique experience, but I did feel uncomfortable taking the opportunity away from people who live by the word of the oracle. I walked forward, as instructed, but did so with an undertone of guilt. Once I got to the stage, I presented the oracle with a white scarf and he poured a pile of red grain into my hand. As soon as I had reached him, I was swiftly swept off of the stage. We were supposed to eat a grain or two, but seeing all of the hands that they had touched - I passed. I did keep the grain though - apparently they provide good luck and protection. 

When I spoke with the monks about the oracle afterwards, I found that many of them did not wholly believe in the tradition. Apparently, the tradition of the oracle existed in the lands and was adopted by Buddhism. Many monks take it with a grain (of salt). Notably the monk, Sandup, said that in his small village there was an oracle, but he never went and he didn’t entirely trust in the oracle’s abilities. Sandup said that he only found the oracle helpful in finding roaming yaks. As Sandup described the various tests to prove an oracle, he revealed that it was difficult to know if the oracle was telling the truth. Sandup described a test in which an oracle must select black stones from white stones in a glass of milk without looking, but he also said that it was easy to cheat. In his village, the local oracle was caught cheating on one of the tests on camera. Instead of “biting” an item out of a person, she placed the item in her mouth beforehand. Sandup laughed heartily at his own story, finding the circumstance very funny. The monks, Sandup included, all have very warm, full laughs and they laugh often.  

I continued to discuss this event for a long time, both with monks and students. I found the experience to be both jarring and intriguing. The religious fervor, both of the monks and the people around me, was astounding; their entire physical beings and energies were invested in this occurence. I had never experienced anything like it. The people around me had an extraordinary ability to truly feel religion — something very alien to me. The event reminded me of an anthropological documentary I had watched on Southern Pentecostals. The Pentecostals would seize and shriek as they sensed spiritual power through snakes.

In breaking down the experience, I believe that the oracle really does believe that he is possessed by spirits. I believe that he can enter a trance (a lesser version of “hypnosis”) in which he feels possessed and cannot recall his experience. I believe that the focus of his mind and his mental abilities allow him to experience this state. I also believe that his upbringing conditioned him to believe that this was possible. The customs of the society created this phenomenon. In terms of his physical abilities, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were similar to that of an adrenaline rush - like when a mother lifts a car to save her child. Overall, the experience revealed the tangible reality of religion - the individual’s experience to truly live a life both dictated and steeped in spirituality. I can’t relate nor even remotely identify with that mentality.

[ginger633-blog]

The Word With So Many Meanings

Cool. Such a simple word could mean so many different things. When I think of cool, I think of cool people, cool emoji with glasses, and cool weather. I asked my roommate what she thought when she heard the word cool. Her response was, “Umm… probably cool music like vibing and grooving music such as Childish Gambino.” The fact that neither of us could come up with a good definition for cool is a testament to how versatile this word is. Cool can mean so many different things to everyone. I just want a straight definition. I want the world to be black and white and everything to make sense. But cool is not black and white. Cool is all about perspective and how people view it.

For Cool Rules, “Cool is a permanent state of private rebellion.” This is an interesting way to look at cool. Cool is always going to be around. For people in the 90s cool was Levi jeans and smoking cigarettes. Now, you are cool if you juul and go to all the parties, even though you are being basic like Chad the frat boy. Cool Rules says that, “each succeeding generation feels that ‘real’ Cool is something pure and existential known only to them.” This makes me wonder what cool will be when I have children. Cool is ever changing for each person. For me, cool is being able to work at the athletic department. In contrast, cool for my roommate is music from the 80s and being able to play her guitar. Cool to my mom was the show Happy Days where Fonzie would ride around on his motorcycle with his leather jacket. That is just how the word is. It means something different to each person. However, cool is also rebellion. Rebelling against authority has always been a trend. In order to be cool, you have to show that you are willing to go the extra mile and rebel. I guess to be rebellious can mean a lot of things. For example, at my catholic high school, many students wore gay pride pins to show support and unity after a religion teacher said being gay was a sin. This simple act of rebellion proved to make a cool impact on the school. Many others tried to follow them in order to be “cool”. Being cool in this instance was being able to stand up for what you believe in. I think that is pretty cool. If you are able to stand up for your beliefs and not care about the consequences, that is cool.

The Aesthetic of of the Cool believes that, “Cool, composed, collected, unruffled, nonchalant, imperturbable, detached [are] adjectives [which] apply to persons to indicate calmness, especially in times of stress.” This means you can face your fears and excitement with a poker face. Cool people have that balance in all aspects of their lives which is very hard to get. Currently I would not be considered cool because I am scrambling to get all my work done after being busy with work, school, sorority and trying to manage some kind of social life. Senses are also a big thing for cool people. In Onitsha Igbo culture, senior women could help heal someone who has become fiery due to a mistake they made and “restore their coolness”. Coolness can transferred to others in order to achieve serenity. This reminds me of Buddhism where people meditate to have serenity and achieve peace. All of this goes back to Nietzsche’s ideals of piece of mind by following religion. Even in these cultures, religion was a central part of their belief in coolness. Religion is usually at the center of many people’s lives. It reminds me of the crisis that was talked about in class and how the crisis revolves around God and whether He’s dead or not. In this case, though, the crisis is whether you are cool enough to achieve the ultimate peace. Coolness and peace are inextricably linked. Cool people are always peaceful and want others to achieve this peace. In order to achieve the peace, one must hold their tongue in an argument, remain calm in times of excitement and fear, and they must have stability in their lives. Honestly, I do not know of anyone who could follow this ideal of cool. Just being able to successful in one of these things is a challenge in itself. Having to hold your tongue while someone is saying something you disagree with is a very difficult thing to do especially when you are stubborn like me. Whenever I think I am right, I will make it known no matter what even if I am wrong. I will argue with someone for hours and hours to prove my point. I also get heated and passionate really quick so it comes off that I am mad in the middle of the debate. I am a very bubbly person, so to remain calm 24/7 would be the hardest one for me to achieve. Finally, as a college student involved in many things I will never be able to achieve stability because I am constantly doing something whether it is writing on a Tumblr page, doing mindless homework tasks, or going to work in the athletic department. No matter what I am always busy. Someday I hope to achieve this serenity, but for now I will still to constantly every changing life and accept the fact I am not cool, at least not yet.

The final definition of cool is the one by Du Bois where cool meant being free. His dream was to be American and black without any issues, “He simply wishes to make it possible for a man to be both a Negro and an American, without being cursed and spit upon by his fellows, without having the doors of Opportunity closed roughly in his face.” I could truly never fathom this idea of cool. I have never experienced the hardship of not having any freedoms. The only thing that the African Americans wanted to be treated as true Americans with the same respect and dignity that anyone would show a white man. Du Bois believed that he was an American because his writings and life reflected the life of a true American. However, he felt like he was not being treated like an American. Being cool would mean that the African Americans would finally be treated equally and with the respect that they so strongly deserve. This definition of cool to me in the most difficult to grasp. I do not know why it was so hard for everyone to treat people with equality. I grew up in a household where my parents taught me that everyone should be treated equally. I cannot ever imagine treating someone differently because of the color of their skin. Cool is being free, free to be whoever you want to be with nobody judging you. Cool is accepting reality and being in your own realm. You do things for yourself and do what makes you happy, even if it means people looking down on you. This goes back to my idea about being weird but not too weird. Be yourself but still stay inside the box. If I wore my pink, onesie to class people would definitely talk about how weird I was acting. But what if I want to embrace my weirdness, then people should be able to embrace my weirdness. This makes me wonder if society wants to to truly be unique or seem unique. I feel like people are afraid to be their true selves sometimes because they do not have to face what other might say about them. But in order to be cool you must embrace your weirdness.

Well I think I have exhausted all my ideas on one simple word. Who knew that cool could be so many things to different people. Putting things into perspective really helps the idea of cool. Cool is all about perspective and what it means to me. Cool ranged from being collected, to rebellious, to being free. All of things reflect how cool has shaped our culture today and how it will continue to shape our future. In 20 years, what will cool mean to me?

[cosmic-irrelevance]

the 451 dystopia/paradoxes of conviction

i've just finished reading ray bradbury's fahrenheit 451. it's a book that stroke nothing in me when i finished reading it. no scene actually made me feel anything- not when clarisse died, or montag killed beatty. shock, maybe. emotional stirring? no. but it's impact truly came after i read the book and let it simmer. it came the moment i decided that i was "done with thinking for the day" and stopped learning, favouring listening to a generic pop track instead (work from home by 5h, it works when i rly don't wanna think about anything). then it hit me. that the 451 dystopia is, in actual fact not very far from me at all. all my life, i've done good without thinking. i read my first real book outside my syllabus at 17. and i didn't even read alot until i got to university. life was fine. it was fine without thought. i liked watching tv, listening to music. in fact, when i'm tired after getting overloaded with information after school, that's all i want to do. not think. engage in more sensory experiences. 451 really shocked me otherwise. there is value in knowledge. i can't even articulate what the consequences of a superficial life is, but i know it. ive seen it before. they are in people all around me. mildred knows it. she attempted suicide. she suppresses it. i've grown more aware in the past few months, but this feels like the catalyst, the catalyst to me abhorring ignorance. ignorance destroys the garden of earth- nature and thought and relationships and empathy. ignorance brings me to the next point is kind of, the myriad of viewpoints i've been bombarded with in the past week. it kinda sheds light on something i've been wondering for a really long time, that is, why those people would vote for trump. we did a reading today on refugees and exile, and while i can't say i fully comprehend the whole reading, part of what the author (david morley) was saying is that the way people define ourselves is through excluding others. we belong here, and we do because there are people who don't. and i guess trump played on this-not sure if i can call it- basal instinct in people to want some place they can protect as their homes that he managed to garner support from the white masses. the opposing view ive heard though is from lauren's talk at the urban outfitter's event. i share the same stand as her, but i've never really thought about why. it's just, when you look at people and their individual stories and sufferings, it's just not possible for me to not want to help them. it's out of my moral compass to look at these vulnerable groups, with all due innocence, seeking a place they can hide and recover from all the trauma of having their homes destroyed, only to deny them of an asylum. i'm doing a course on human rights now, and the thing about human rights is that if you believe in it, there's no reason to deny these people the right to meet their needs with dignity. it's their rights, their rights they have on the sole basis that they are human. nothing else. and if you disagree with me that all humans deserve rights, how would you like if someone treated you like a slave? and if you think that can't happen, what do you have in you that makes you superior to these refugees? lauren's view though, is that all of these stem from self love. if you love yourself, this love spreads to others. because they are human too. they are genetically coded the same way we are. they are our brothers. they are our sisters. i 100% stand by that, but my mind will take a little while to pry open. and on human rights and activism, there's something else. lexicon seems like a line of weakness of every activist- language is, afterall the cornerstone of thought. all around activists are trying to stop us from using labels- thordis elva goes as far as to say that using the term “rapist” to describe the entity who had committed that act doesn't help in solving the problem. i don't deny that. we think, therefore, we are. but here, i guess i'm going back to the 451 dystopia. ray bradbury actually had letters written to him getting him to remove the racism (one of the MINOR antagonists in the book which montag gets back at is called Black, i'm pretty sure intentionally) and portrayal of women (mildred and her friends). to which he smartly says that that's the first step towards burning books. because people cannot tolerate other's opinions. montag could jolly well be gay, and mildred be his gay husband, and there'll be outcry saying bradbury targets the homosexual community. and if he changes his stand, that'll be akin to writing to please. and writing to please is too troublesome, too hard, he might as well not write anyway. i don't know how to reconcile these polarising stands. maybe i'll write again, when i do. i've a copy of milk and honey in my bag now, which i'm totally stoked to pull out and read for the sole reason that i haven't read poetry in a while. but i guess it's the 451 dystopia again, reminding me of something. i'm starting to be freaked at its penetration In my life. basically there's this guy, faber. an old university professor. he says that books alone aren't enough to change the world, to score beneath the surface. there must be books, leisure time to understand their meanings, and the freedom to act upon them. so i guess that's what i'm doing now. was just reading about the paradox of conviction. it's interesting, but it would've hit me harder if i actually had something i was brought up to believe. it's not to say i wasn't brought up to believe anything, there are certain things my parents believe in. my dad, for one, is devoutly anti government. it's just that i don't share their views. they weren't inserted into me before i was washed over by social studies, before i knew how to think. but i guess it gives me reason to think that things might've been different if my dad preached all of these to me earlier. bear with me i'm just rehashing the argument here: so i guess i shall go with the example that i was brought up to think that there are multiple gods (i'm buddhist, though not as devout a follower as my dad). say i have a friend. my friend is monotheistic (she's christian). just because she believes the way she does, and i do the way i do, doesn't mean that i think i have better grounds for believing the way i do. that is, i don't have evidence that there are indeed, more than one gods, which makes her belief less reliable. it's just the way things are. or rather, it's the way our upbringings are. she was raised christian, i'm buddhist. if you see where i'm going, yeah there's actually no reason for me to believe that my beliefs in buddhism are rational. and being the rational being i am, i should actually not believe in buddhism. i also know i've checkmated myself because no one says religion is rational, but what if i was raised to think otherwise? for example, that the earth was flat? i don't know what to think of this argument because firstly, i do not hold to a lot of thoughts i was raised to believe. my family doesn't communicate all that much, so most of my thoughts come from books and the media. secondly, there can be empirical data proving some beliefs better than the others. that doesn't mean either party should give up on their beliefs though. not everything has to appeal to reason. to the chagrin of every rational brain is the actor of the heart, the existence of emotions. it's like how vladimir and estragon continue, irrationally, waiting by the tree for godot. not because they believe they have strong grounds to do so (they have, indeed, no grounds at all), but because it brings them feelings of hope and purpose. i feel a tad better now that i've got my thoughts out. it's hard thinking in your brain.