The Fright on Saturday Night

I've been going through my artifacts box by box as if I've been digging with a spoon into the recesses of my brain. One day I found a creative writing award that my daughter won when she was 11, and a few days later, found the actual story that she had written to win the prize. She said I could put it on my blog.

Melissa at 11 (or so) and her long-haired gerbil, Kinky

My Deepest Secret

At the college where I worked, we’d send troubled students to a psychologist. She'd ask the students, right off the bat, "What is your deepest secret?"

When I shared this startling invasion with others they were often shocked. My colleagues thought that secrets should come in time, but not be sought after at the beginning of a first session.The therapist might ask something like “why are you here” but certainly nothing as abrupt as demanding the revelation of one’s darkest secret.

I started thinking about my secrets and finally realized that they probably aren't much different than anyone else. Freud spoke of the Oedipus and Electra complexes that probably date back to the Garden of Eden. As a kid, I was sent for some psychological testing. Afterwards my mom consulted with the psychologist and was told that I had “extreme hostility toward my dad.” I couldn't wait to tell him when he came home. We laughed (which for Freud would have cemented the deal).

Back to the Garden of Eden, where we feasted on the forbidden fruit. We smoked and drank and swore, and God forbid, touched our bodies in places that felt good.

We all lied and cheated at some point in our life. When shopping, I would complain if I was “short changed” but not if I was mistakenly given a five instead of a one in change.

We injured others. We said hurtful things and did harmful things to others. Sometimes it was to get what we wanted, and sometimes because we didn't know the effect of our actions. We now wish, perhaps, that we could turn back the clock and reverse our actions, but that is not in the cards.

We swim from one fantasy to another.  We are essentially romantics, falling in love again and again and again. For me, it might be a food, a new place, a new teacher, a newly discovered artist or writer, or a friend. Today it is 12 oz vintage Tupperware tumblers. It or they become the object of my fantasies, until the next fantasy arises like a phoenix. The cycle continues, over and over again.

What is your deepest secret?

Cup holder .96 from China, container is Tupperware.

Safer than a glass on a desk?

Disorderly Memories

I've been cleaning up for about six weeks. Actually have been going through most every box of things I own and finding all kinds of gems.

I received the card above from a photographer today. It was perfect. I'm intrigued how these little memories I'm finding jog my thick skull (see picture below) and are so meaningful ... at least to me.

Then my good friend FD sent me this picture today (above) of the two of us in our Hawaiian garb in St. Louis 30+ years ago. My skull looks thick. I'm on the right (in more ways than one). My daughter did the painting on the left (she's on the left). She was disappointed that I didn't know where that painting was. I guess there are still the art boxes to go through to find that treasure.

We went to visit FD and J in Maine about 20 years ago. Linda did tea on the rocks (not like Scotch on the rocks). Here's evidence:

I think my high school's 50th reunion last month has made me very nostalgic. I felt then, and as I go through my boxes, now, that I'm walking on the clouds in heaven, revisiting people and times from many years ago. It is quite a treat. (Click on pictures to make them larger.)

How are you too?

Photo by Francois Deschamps

She asked me (again) this morning. I responded, “Have you read my blog post” and she said “Yes.”

I understood the “how are” much better than the “you,” which at that moment totally mystified me. I wondered where was the “you” to evaluate its happiness? Was this going to be an inside job, with “you” evaluating “you”?

I knew that I had a body, but at that moment, especially as this was my Pilates (yes, I did her photos) session, my body felt like a machine, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth and pointing my feet and keeping my knees two fists apart and not bending my legs. So it wasn't “you” doing all that but rather my body. If there were a “you,” where was it? Could I have left my "you" at home? Or worst yet, could “you” have been lost in a fantasy, constructed by my mind? And if so, how did it know when to join my body and when to strike out on its own?

To relieve the difficulty of this question, and to allow my Pilates session to be beneficial, I asked her, “Well, how are you?” She answered in such a way that I had little clue how she really was, so I added, “On a scale of one to ten?” And, expecting a number and the end to this ridiculous dialogue, she replied, “Better than last week.”

Then I went to see my chiropractor who straightens me out with his magic touch. No sooner had I passed through the door of his office, he asked, "How is the world treating you?" I was unprepared for this. Discovering that the world was actually engaged in a practice of treating me was quite an unwelcome revelation. I explained to him that his question was a dualism, separating me from the rest of the world. He agreed and started telling me about a movie called the Secret, about some holy grail. I then remembered that I tried to read the book, maybe at Costco, and if I were Holden Caulfield, I'd say that I wanted to barf, but since I'm not, I starting thinking about the other patients who were waiting to see him, and that pretty much ended our conversation.

Later in the day, I opened the door for a woman coming into the Austin Zen Center. She quietly asked me how I was. “Fine,” I said. And then, as I took off my shoes, I realized I hadn't asked her. “How rude,” I thought. So I asked her and was glad that she was fine too.

Photo by Francois Deschamps

What's in a Name?

I found this among my father's papers. His name was Ed (Edmond) too.

Here's a photo of Ed Dibble. I doubt it is the same one in the limerick. My dad was a fan of Edward Lear.

On safari a man
     named Ed Dibble
Had the bad judgment
     to quibble
With a cannibal chief
His survival was brief
Poor Ed ended up
     as a nibble.

Walls and More Walls ... trying to explain why I don't want to be in a tribe.

Me: I'm bothered continually in the Torah class how Jews see themselves as members of the Jewish tribe as opposed to the human tribe.

He: I know a lot of Jews ... being one myself ... I've never yet met one that considers themselves separate from the human tribe ... in fact one of the central teachings, Tikkun Olam, is about how we all have a responsibility to repair a broken world and make it a better place for everyone. I've never heard any Jew saying those of other faiths would go to Hell, or were any less loved by God ... something I do hear quite often from our non-Jewish friends. Also, notice most Jews wear their mezuzahs inside their shirts, not feeling it necessary to broadcast to the world their faith ... it's a personal thing ... I've always wondered why others feel it necessary to display theirs ... often very garishly ... seems to be a “I'm holier than thou” kind of thing.

She: What does this have to do with Jewish people? Most jews that I know (and that includes family and friends) embrace cultural understanding and mutual respect for ideas that they might not share. They see themselves as very much a part of the human tribe, extending energy and other personal resources trying to better the human condition without regard to race and/or different religions.

Me: I really like what he and she said. I agree with every word, and still stick by what I said. Here are some words by a rabbi about interfaith marriage: http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/39606/jewish/Why-Do-Jews-Exclude-Other-People.htm In the talk, he uses the phrase, "we Jewish people." For me (a Jew by most definitions), that phrase separates us from others. It would be as if I said, "we people with a white gold wedding ring." Immediately I see set up two groups where one has excluded the other. It is great that the white golds do such good in the world. But I think that (also) that do gooders can be seen as demeaning. If I knocked on your door and said, "let me care for you" then I've identified you as one who is both separate from me, and one needing to be cared for. (I hypocritically took the Buddhist vow to save all beings from suffering. I suspect that has the same shortcomings of being both a separator and a demeanor.

Judaism, like all religions, separates some from the many. I don't think that how some take care of the many alleviates that separation. In the talk cited above, Rabbi Freeman says, “Any person who wishes to join the Jewish people and their holy mission is welcome, regardless of race, color, sex or family background. We only ask that they commit to keeping the rules G-d gave us ..."

My friend H sends me, almost daily, articles about the separation in the Middle East between the Jew and the non-Jew. I feel like saying “Duh, if you separate yourself from others then you shouldn't complain that you are seen as separate.” The photographer Edward Steichen was so brilliant when he coined the term, the Family of Man. He did that partially in response to his mom who scolded him when, as a kid, he yelled out an anti-Semitic remark. He worked tirelessly for the benefit of all beings, not as a member of one religion, but as a bonafide human being.

William Blake: I must create a system or be enslaved by another mans; I will not reason and compare: my business is to create.

Me: I imagine that each of us resides in a circle in a vend diagram. We have constructed that circle, be it artist, female, or Jew. My Zen teacher reminded me the other day (as I talked to him about my dislike of separating one from another) that the separation is only occurring in the mind. I feel sometimes that we have the walls around ourselves that the ancient cities had/have in Europe. We understand why they needed their walls. But do we need them as well?

Dad: “Please, when I die, don't have a service in any church or temple. I don't want to favor one faith over another.” “Would you like to see a priest or a rabbi?” they asked him on his death bed, “no,” he answered, “a philosopher.”

Note one: I learned in Torah class last week that it is not okay to be satisfied as long as their is some injustice or unmet need in the world. I liked that. Seems that as the little girl is throwing back the sand dollars into the ocean, one by one, satisfaction would only cause her to hesitate and a few (more) sand dollars would dry up from the sun.

Note two: I'm attempting to see if I can not join anything in an effort not to separate myself from others. Of course, that may be counterproductive and the ultimate separation.