Musings and Other Things...

Time to Work

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 23:15:00 +0000

Working hard? I think not.

It's that time again. Time to get a job. If I look too externally, I might become discouraged at the so-called dismal job market. There are still companies that are hiring, and one of them is looking for me, specifically. I am going to put a twist on the traditional barrage approach that most job seekers employ. Everything is the Self. Instead of "working hard" - a phrase I detest - I am working smart. I don't want just any job, but one that I can stomach. I have a very sensitive metaphorical stomach. And since the Self is all, I am going to get out of my way and let "me" come to me. This philosophy may sound naive to some, but it has always worked for me in the past. We can be like magicians in our own lives if we remember the unity of the Self is never broken, except by us, when we insist that the names we call things are the things themselves. Narayana Guru has given me a peep hole into his unitive vision, and it has saved me again and again.

October 17, 2009

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 20:39:00 +0000

Down With Grades?

In Emerson's essay "On Education" - which was actually compiled from his commencement addresses and lectures - he makes a distinction between "drill" and "genius". Drill, according to him, is exactly what it sounds like: repetition of a subject until mastery is achieved. Without drill, I wouldn't have learned my multiplication tables or the fundamentals of grammar. Thank god for it. For basic skill mastery, drill is the most efficient, direct route. He says, "Teach him the difference between the similar and the same. Make him call things by their right names. Pardon in him no blunder." Not to mention that the rhythmic aspect of drill can be fun for students. I used drill in some of my classes when I taught in NYC and the students responded well to it. However, drill is not all in all. And afterwards (simultaneously?), how should the student's education proceed? Emerson says by the discovery of the boy's own genius; following his innate enthusiasm for a subject will not lead him astray, though it may seem so to outside eyes. "He can learn anything which is important to him now that the power to learn is secured: as mechanics say, when one has learned the use of tools, it is easy to work at a new craft." He should remain steadfast and follow that spark of genius to the end. "On Education" is an essay worth reading by every teacher and every student.

And when it comes to the giving and receiving of grades, I am guided by this wisdom. I am riding on the wave of my own enthusiasm and therefore will ensure (myself) that my education is complete. A grade on a paper is meaningless to me. I don't understand why, especially at the graduate level, I need to be graded at all. I scoff at the idea. I can't help it. Boxes confine. If I don't give it to the academic the way the academic wants it, she will give me a "bad" letter. In the academy, individuality is not rewarded. This makes me nervous. I may not survive in a higher learning institution. And when I was a teacher, the giving of grades was a kind of torture. I cannot see myself returning to high school teaching or adjuncting for this reason. If the student needs such external motivators, perhaps the time is not right for her to study. She has, after all, acquired basic skills. So let her go into the world moved by her own genius. I am not sold on the idea that a college education is valuable for everyone. And I am certainly not sold on someone using only symbols to tell me my performance is excellent, very good, average, below average, or poor. Let's have a dialogue. Talk to me. Tell me what you know. I will do the same. I guarantee you will not find a better student than one moved by her own enthusiasm. I will happily sit at your feet and learn from you. But my mind and heart follow their own bidding.

March 28, 2009

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 17:01:00 +0000

deforestation blues
I have a concern that I can't seem to shake. It's about deforestation and development in northwest Indiana, where I grew up. This is NOT just about NW Indiana but the world at large, and it affects everyone on the planet. My friend Simon recently told me that while driving through the town of Portage he saw a coyote as road kill. A coyote! Another time, he saw a little baby coyote all alone, trotting along the highway. Humans are not supposed to see these critters! They are meant to be protected by the cover of forests, forests which are being cut down alarmingly fast, blindly, and for profit. At this moment, I hate greedy land developers. HATE. It is an unevolved and ignorant perspective, but unfortunately it's something I am feeling now. I am going to sound like an opinionated bitch here, but oh well. Like the Lorax, I speak for the trees and animals, and a peace loving, everything's just jim dandy persepective AIN'T gonna cut it - no pun intended.

When I see these housing developments go up, I get a nauseous feeling in my stomach. Those ugly, cookie cutter, imagination-less, creativity-killing developments make me want to scream, thrash my body on the floor, pound my fists and cry. Too harsh a reaction? I don't think so. If you think it too harsh, you are not getting enough forest in your life, and your life is worse for it. It is a completely natural and human reaction! Human beings are not supposed to live this disconnected from nature, and I'm afraid we are tipping the balance to a point of no return when we cut down this precious green land. This is happening everywhere in suburban America. People want the fancy house, and then they have to get the fancy stuff to go inside it. I am attaching a couple pics of the Atlanta burbs that I took last year on my flight to a conference in Atlanta:

These photos make me wonder where the animals went that once used to roam this developed land . Animals need a range to wander, and so now they probably wander across roads and backyards, possibly getting squished by SUVs.

But, you may ask, what about your friends and relations who want (or live in) one of these abominable places? Well...this is my blog. My place to spew my opinion. When (and now if) I am invited to someone's development home, I will make a valiant effort to keep my opinions to myself.

I am trying to tell myself that there is no point in being angry about this phenomenon. My brother told me yesterday that all I can really do is focus on my own environmental radius. This is true, I suppose, and I like to think that I do that. But these deforestation blues are sparking a sense of activism in me, and I hope it will spark something in more of my fellow humans as well. Spending time in wild expanses increases your sense of creativity, gives you a sense of peace and well being, infuses your lungs with fresh tree-filtered air, and so much more.

I have to figure out an action plan that won't require me tying myself to a tree. The pen may just be mightier than the sword, or in this case, the saw.

My purpose in writing this blog today is more to motivate people to do whatever they can to protect the forests that harbor and protect the human creative spirit than to offend someone living in a development that already exists. What's done is done. I am not a better person than you, just a person who loves the trees and the little critters that depend on them!

Peace.

March 26, 2009

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Thu, 26 Mar 2009 17:50:00 +0000

dad
On April 1 it will be two years since my dad's body left the world. I think it's kind of funny that he died on April Fool's Day. Nice joke, Dad! It has taken me awhile to come back into the world of the living, but I'm coming back. I really feel for those who have or had to take care of a loved one with an illness such as Alzheimer's or any other long term illness that requires constant care. The (perceived) loss of human dignity alone is enough to make one cry a river of tears. I spent 10 years crying over the gradual, heart-wrenching loss of my dad. But at the exact moment he left the body, I didn't cry. Whatever, everyone's different and will respond differently to death. It's just that for me, I was done crying. There was no more. Like the Bible says, "To everything there is a season." So true. So true.

And in so saying, I am getting over my phone phobia, too, kind of. But I must admit, I still like it when it doesn't ring. It's almost as if my soul is stuck in some past technology-free age. But then, there's the Facebook phenomenon, an analysis of which I will save for another day. In the mean time, let me tell you about one particular exciting event in my life.
chris cornell live
On Friday, March 13, I had the privelige of seeing Chris Cornell at an intimate venue in the Ravenswood neighborhood of Chicago. But before I begin the telling, let me, if I may, impart what Chris Cornell, as an artist, means to me now and what he has meant to me in the past.

During my junior and senior years of high school, I began to be influenced by the culture of the late 1960s, like a lot of my peers. This made sense. The Grateful Dead were still touring, the former hippies were hitting their 40s and actively reminiscing about their good old days, and as a teenager, I got swept up in all that. Kind of like how people reminisce about the 80s today (but that's a whole other topic). Anyway, when I entered my freshman year at Loyola in 1990, I was already deeply interested in social justice issues, Kahlil Gibran, Joseph Campbell, and other hippie (read: human) stuff. But the problem was that the music of the late 80s did not speak to me on any deep level, to match the transformation happening inside of me. I hated the hair metal shit and the pop music was beyond dumb. It all seemed so comical to me. And I only enjoyed it superficially.

But then I discovered Soundgarden's Badmotorfinger (1991). It was so powerful and raw and real. It spoke to me deeply, to my angst and frustration with the shallowness of 80s pop culture. There was still Apartheid in South Africa, HOW could I listen to and enjoy the popular hollow ass music of the day? So I dragged my roommate at the time, Christi, off to the Aragon (brawl room!) to see Soundgarden open for, of all bands, Skid Row. I almost lost my hearing that night, by the way. We were right in front by the speakers, Christi and I, wearing our birkenstocks and flowy shirts! Meanwhile, we were surrounded by hard core metal chicks in tight black leather and lots of make-up and hair spray. We were also stoned out of our gourds and giggling at the ridiculousness of how we looked in comparison to these tough chicks who could probably kick our asses. We stayed for both bands, but Soundgarden was clearly the winner of our hearts and minds. Their music was dark and demonic, yet it was also inclusive of the female energy somehow. I didn't feel alienated by it. I think I saw them one more time after that, but I can't remember now. Maybe not. I would have to check my old ticket stubs. Anyway, I didn't buy any Soundgarden albums after Badmotorfinger, for whatever reason. And then, in 1996, when I met the love of my life, Ashok, I began to learn about music in a new way, from a true musician's point of view. He played Superunknown (1994) and Down on the Upside (1996) for me, and I about lost my mind. I played the song "Like Suicide" over and over again. Both of those albums were such sophisticated evolutions from Badmotorfinger. I was moved by the music and the lyrics. The shit was intense. Soundgarden carried on the tradition of music listening, really sitting down and listening, not doing a hundred other things at the same time. But all good things end, and the group broke up in 1996. Oh well, their music lives on!

Then Ashok and I got hitched and moved to Brooklyn in 1998.

And in 1999 Chris Cornell released his solo debut, Euphoria Morning. I don't give a good fuck what the critics say. The critics can suck it! That album is really good. In fact, I am listening to it now. That album is New York for me. New York and Blueberry. Haha.

Then there was Audioslave, the merging of Cornell's vocal virtuosity backed by the power of Rage. I liked their first album a lot, and Ashok and I went to see them at the Hammerstein Ballroom in NYC, and it was pretty awesome. But they broke up too, after three albums, of which I only bought the first.

Now we come to the present. Ashok recently played me a song from Chris's new solo album, Scream. And all I can say is, how far the noble have fallen. I am confused by his sudden foray into dance pop beats with Timbaland, which is a stupid name by the way. I am disappointed by the badness of it all. To be fair, I have only heard a few songs, and they are, unfortunately, not good.

Then a couple of weeks ago Ashok tells me we have the opportunity to see Chris Cornell at a private party in Chicago through his band's connections. I didn't care that his new album sucks balls, I wanted to see him! I am a long time fan, after all. So off we went. The venue was a large architectural store on Ravenswood Avenue. It was a really cool spot for a low key event such as this. Unfortunately, when we got there, there was a huge ass bus parked out in front with a giant red Verizon logo with Timbaland's face plastered all over it. I was like, ugh, way to slap art in the face, and we hadn't even walked in yet! So we walk in, and as I said, the place is off the hook. There are antique fixtures everywhere. Kitschy old stuff and classic art pieces. A great spot for an intimate evening of music. But there were also flat screen TVs strategically positioned that were playing Chris Cornell's new Verizon commercials. Oh my god. This commercial was so bad. In a nutshell, Chris is sitting on a stool singing and playing his acoustic, not so bad, but then these Coyote Ugly type dancers are in the background and...it is just too awful for words. On the flip side, there are only a few hundred people at this thing and the stage looks so welcoming and intimate, with candles everywhere. I saw three acoustic guitars and three stools. Despite the Verizon cheeziness everywhere (artist endorsements have become a complex issue nowadays, as opposed to days past, and I am not making a blanket statement against them-I am just referring to this particular artist and this particular endorsement), I was still stoked to see Chris.

Anyway, he came out with two members of his band, and the first song they played was so heartfelt that it made me cry. It must have been a new one. His voice is still so good, and the song was so honest that it cut me to the core. At that moment, he could have done whatever stupid endorsement he wanted. Sigh. He sang a total of 5 songs, three of which I enjoyed very much. He also played the title track to the new album, Scream. That one was horrible. The lyric that I (hate to) remember is "screaming at the top of my head". Ugh! Then Timbaland gets on stage, eating a cheeseburger. I am not kidding! They were passing out hors de vours at this thing, and he was eating a mini cheeseburger. He sat there next to Chris, who did not look comfortable, and said something about partying and how we didn't hear the "real" version of the song, we just heard the acoustic version. What the fuck? What an imbecile, I thought. Anyway, as Chris started to walk off the stage, I made a bee line for him. I got to put my hand on his shoulder and tell him what I thought about that first song. He was a bit too rock star for me, truth be told. He did not stay to mingle or anything else. He just left. His two band members stuck around, though, and I talked to one of them who's name is Yogi. He looked like a young George Harrison.

That's it. That's my story. Part 2 will be about why I think Chris Cornell has chosen to go down this new (horrible) corporate, dance pop path. I have a few reasons that I'd like to share, and I will try to do so with as much compassion as possible. But at the same time, I will hold strongly to my ideals.

Thanks for reading!

I don't have anything figured out

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Thu, 01 May 2008 05:44:00 +0000

To the Munnar House

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 17:07:00 +0000

after a week or so of traveling around kerala with ashok's dad and cousin, we landed back up at my aunt's house in alwaye (aluva). my cousin aruna akka's kids, maanasa and her little brother.

the next day, we were supposed to leave for munnar (moo-nahr), the hill station where my mom and her siblings grew up. unfortunately, ashok had a bout of traveler's diarrhea, so we had to wait a day before we left. after a full day of rest, we rented a minivan (driver included) and headed to munnar which is roughly 3 hours east of Aluva. our traveling companions consisted of my mom's eldest brother and his wife (annan mama and anni aunty), my mom, my brother anil, ashok, and myself. anil, ashok, and i wanted to get out of the car to see the view from this bridge.

yeah, we could have stood here for hours...

continuing our ascent...

anil took this pic of two cockroaches fighting? mating?

we finally arrived in munnar and went straight to the house that my mom and her 12 siblings shared. here she is with my uncle.

i walked around the back and saw this window.

this is one of the ladies that lives there now. she actually remembered some of the people my mom and uncle knew!

old school kitchen

the view from the house. it must have been far less developed than even this.

we're walking from the house to the bridge the 'kids' would cross every day on their way to and from school.

Punnani (Yes, that's what I said!)

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 16:10:00 +0000

in addition to being a slang reference to the female genitalia, it's also a town in kerala we visited. i just googled the word and here's what the urban dictionary says:

"Well, originally the word "punany" or "punani" was used in India--it's in the kama sutra--to describe the female sex organ. Indian laborers were used to build roads in Jamaica and the Caribbean during the 1930s, 40s, and 50s, so a lot of Indian slang made its way into the Jamaican vernacular. There are literally thousands of Jamaican dancehall records glorifying the punany...probably rivaled only by ganja songs. Ganja is also an Indian-based word."

don't you just love how the definition starts with "well"? okay, back to the story. our visit to punnani was pretty amazing. we were visiting ashok's aunt (his mom's sister) who has alzheimer's. she's in her late 70s, and her husband is in his 90s!

so sweet

getting reoriented

90 something and spry!

goodbye...

Life is Hard, Please Recycle

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 16:00:00 +0000

when ashok's dad saw this tribal woman, all he said was, "life is hard." indeed.

krishna recycled

Palakkad and Parambikulam (Part 2)

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 17:18:00 +0000

Parambikulam Forest Preserve

we drove through the state of tamilnadu, so we had to go through more than one forest preserve to get to our destination. man, the ride up from Palakkad was the bumpiest, crappiest, pot-holed ride ever!

this lady had fruit for sale, wish i bought some from her...

cute school boys, a typical day walking through the jungle!

wild boar!

driving up the Western Ghats:

this guard's face is hillarious, click on it for a closer look:

we have arrived!

more great signs!

use me, bitches!

this may be my favorite:

spotted deer:

blurry wild elephants, you can just spot baby between mommy's legs:

ahh, poetry:

next time, ashok and i want to stay in this tree house. imagine all the wild animals you would see in the evening!

this is the heart of Parambikulam, which used to be a flowing river. sadly, it is dammed up, like so many rivers in india.

this is a pic of the dam from far above (vyasa's camera):

walking on the dam:

depressing...

the biggest fucking teak tree you ever did see:

this the story of the kannimara tree. personally, i think it's sexist, with all the 'sacred virgin' stuff. (sluts are sacred too!) but pretty amazing that it's 450 plus years old. i just love trees, and i want to learn more about them.

teak and me...yeah i'm puffy, i know. i'm workin' on it!

bye, until next time...

Palakkad family (names forthcoming)

We drove back to Palakkad after a day in the forest, and spent the evening with Ashok's cousin and family. Here she is with her daughter:

her son, check out the t-shirt:

this is the table where we ate a delectable dinner!

ashok's cousin's husband is showing us his coin collection...pretty amazing. he has coins from mohenjo-daro! he's the one that planned our Parambikulam trip, very awesome dude!

there are no words for this:

a fitting goodbye to Palakkad!

Palakkad and Parambikulam

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 17:08:00 +0000

train to Palakkad

we took a 4 hour train ride to the city of Palakkad, and saw some classic Kerala countryside.

pensive on the train:

random feet:

Athirapilly Waterfalls

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 19:54:00 +0000

we saw these rubber trees on the way to the waterfalls:

we stopped on this diverted river bed on the way:

doesn't my baby look cool?

this is ashok's cousin, das chettan, showing us how they used to make "spoons" with jackfruit tree leaves. it was funny, dad started to tell the story of how he would make spoons, then das 'ettan walked up, unaware of dad's story, and began sharing a similar story. when we told das of the coincidence, he said to dad in malayalam, "then i am truly your nephew, uncle!"

we loaded up our car on one of these "canoes", and off we went!

india has the best signs, hands down:

the waterfalls, from a distance:

our traveling companion, vyasa prasad (aka bhaiyya):

magnificent!

yet another great sign:

and they keep coming:

this sign might be my favorite! what do the police have to do with this??

there are no words:

if you can believe it, all of the pictures up until this point are from the first week of the journey! more to come friends...

Sankara

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 19:22:00 +0000

kalady

kalady is the birthplace of the famous hindu philosopher, shankara. he lived circa 788-820 c.e. click here to learn more about sankara. it's not a definitive site, but it's a good starting place. for being such a revolutionary philosopher of world renown, the sankara shrine at kalady is nothing to write home about. the actual shrine was closed, but we got to walk along the periyar river, where sankara's legend began.

there is no way to know what he looked like, but i'm guessing he wasn't this "fair". in india, fair=good, pure. dark=bad, impure. fucking ridiculous!

this sign is awesome:

this is a sign that tells the legend of sankara, again, awesome:

this is periyar river where the above legend takes place. i imagine sankara looked more like the guy in the river than any artist's rendering.

ok, if anyone can make sense of this sign, please enlighten me:

next stop, athirapilly waterfalls!

Angamaly

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 18:58:00 +0000

fam

these were taken at ashok's cousin's house in Angamaly.

this is dad and valiamma (his older sister, who is in her 80s!):

the three of us:

ashok has a lot of love for valiamma because she came to the states when he was a troubled youth (aka the high school years), and she loved him unconditionally, without judgment. priceless!

Vaikom

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 18:48:00 +0000

family
this is a picture of ashok's family in vaikom. they were all super sweet to us, and we'll never forget their kindness and simplicity of living.

elephant
this elephant was made by ashok's grandmother many years ago for the festival of onam.

India is Color

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 18:01:00 +0000

tamarind
a main ingredient in kerala cooking:

strange bug
ashok found this interesting insect:

dammit! i forgot the name of this fruit
when we were at ashok's dad's place in vaikom, ashok's cousin just picked these off a tree for us. they were sweet and refreshing, except we had to check for ants before eating them.

Don't Read This if You are Easily Offended!

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 17:59:00 +0000

I Got What America Needs Right Here

Sometimes I'm a little stupid, maybe, a little slow in the head, so I'm wondering if you can help me get something straight....

Greetings from Kerala (Part 3)

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 09:28:00 +0000

driving from aluva to vaikom to kumarakom
and back

click on the map for a visual of our first kerala jaunt. the day after we arrived (14 Dec), ashok's dad and cousin--who's a gynecologist in angamali, the next town over--came to pick us up from my aunt's place in aluva (alwaye). dad had a lot of things planned for us, which didn't disappoint. the only down side being the arduous car rides. indians are used to driving this way, and hardly anyone wears seatbelts. the seatbelt consciousness is just beginning to penetrate here. this is a culture where entire families ride together, sans helmets, on one motorcycle. i've seen countless children riding shotgun in front of their fathers on a motorbike. it's just the way things are here. the latter sentence shall be repeated many times during this trip! if you're planning a first trip to india, just chillax on all your newfangled american safety rules because they simply don't exist here!

here's a river called "cut river" in malayalam that we crossed on the way to vaikom:

our first stop was vaikom. this is ashok's dad's hometown. we stopped by the house where he grew up, but a newer house was built in its place. still it is the space where he grew up. ashok's uncle recently passed away, and now the inhabitants are ashok's two cousins, his uncle's wife, and one cousin's wife and son. it's a really simple life. we had tea and snacks there, which consisted of fried bananas, vaddas--hard to explain if you don't know, but daaaaamn they're tasty!--, and fresh pineapple.
the hotel where we stayed had this sign in the bathroom:
here's dad on a swing:

next stop: kumarakom! we didn't stay in a houseboat, but rented a motorboat for a few hours. as you can see, the houseboats are pretty amazing. next time we're going to stay overnight in one.

this is vembanad lake. it is actually an estuary, which is the wide part of a river where it nears the sea. it is covered in hyacinth, which is considered to be a weed, but it is the most beautiful weed that i've seen:

me and the hyacinth flower:

this photo isn't the most clear because i used the zoom feature on my little camera, but it shows one crane sitting in the hyacinth. actually there were hundreds of them everywhere! some make their homes in small patches of hyacinth, others in large patches, such elegant and stunning birds! i don't know who this little black bird is...

we came upon an uninhabited island, got off the boat and walked around a bit. this was the sign that greeted us:

unfortunately we did find plastic on the island. dammit! some ASS-HOLE threw a dirty diaper there, among other things. the nerve! on another note, there was a guy who boated over in his canoe (above) when he saw us coming, climbed a tree, plucked a few coconuts, cut them, and voila! coconut water, yum! after the island, we turned around and came back.

so, stay tuned for more...

Greetings from Kerala (Part 2)

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 04:53:00 +0000

arriving in kerala
when we landed in cochin (kochi) on the 13th, it was a vastly different experience than prior visits. for one, kochi has a brand new airport, much larger than the rinky dink airport of yore, which was quaint and camouflaged among coconut, banana, & palm trees. the airport road from kochi to aluva is now littered with large (gratuitous) billboards that portray fair brides decked out in jewelry and beautiful clothes. also, there are flats popping up everywhere. this is development on a massive scale! and people must furnish their new lifestyles so shops abound. what a difference a decade makes. now most middle class folks have internet access. the world has certainly become a global village.

if you click on the map, you'll see i've drawn a line from kochi to aluva, the town my parents are from. we drove this way after we arrived. the airport road is good, as in no potholes. but other roads here are absolutely horrendous. i don't know many non-indians who would be able to bear being a passenger in a car here for very long. it seems that everyone is just on the verge of death: passengers, drivers, pedestrians, dogs, chickens, and cows alike. in fact, i think we ran over a pheasant a couple of days ago. fuck.

the greenest place on earth

kerala is indeed a green paradise (click on the pic). when i go back to chitown, my heart will sprout a coconut tree and there it will sit until i die...

Greetings from Kerala

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Wed, 19 Dec 2007 16:38:00 +0000

we are here!
we are in india. i wanted to attach a pic, and let you know that i will be writing in detail tomorrow. until then, here we are...notice the coconut tree by my head?

War and Peace and Fun

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Thu, 22 Nov 2007 21:09:00 +0000

war and peace

i have begun tolstoy's masterpiece, and it is riveting. i haven't yet finished the first quarter of the book, still i have learned so much. the setting is the the first decade of the 19th century, and the russian wealthy class is nervous, very nervous, because the french revolution has just taken place, and napoleon is on the prowl. all of the sudden, their positions in society have become tenuous. what appeals to me so much about this master work is that it draws the reader in slowly and deftly, by laying a foundation so tantalizing that one can't help but to savor each word. it is true that tolstoy had a deep understanding of human nature. he must have studied people, not only their physical characteristics, but their underlying, invisible motivations. you would have to be particularly astute, with an innate sense of empathy for the human condition to write a single sentence filled with this much understanding. For example, and you don't need to know the story to see the genius behind these lines:

The 'charming' Hippolyte bore a close resemblance to his beautiful sister; it was even more remarkable that in spite of the similarity he was a very ugly man. His features were like his sister's, but whereas she glowed with joie de vivre, classical beauty, and the smiling self-assurance of youth, her brother's face was just the opposite--dim with imbecility, truculent and peevish--and his body thin and feeble. His eyes, nose and mouth--all his features seemed to twist themselves into a vague kind of obtuse snarl, while his arms and legs were always in an awkward tangle. (Ch. 3)

uncle leo has got me wondering about the idea of revolution in general. americans are pacified with consumerism, celebrities, cubicle culture, and pharmaceuticals to ever be bothered with revolution. i don't think the public is convinced of the necessity of it, when life is comfortable. the situation is just not that bad when you have a flat screen tv. our eyes are always darting from screen to screen, judging the worth of this versus that. media in the 21st century is mass hoodwinkery of the most insidious sort. watching real lives come undone is a new form of entertainment that has parasitically planted itself on the american psyche, leaving little room for anything else of value, like art, nature, and being politically aware. chomsky is right. if americans put half as much effort into politics, as they do sports, we could have a revolution! we could take these treasonous bastards to task, and say, no more godammit! no more of your wars! but alas. the intellectual fabric of this country is unraveling, and i don't see a cure for this pathology. at this point, i am filled with venom and it is fueled by hate. i don't see the Self in them (bush, cheney, et.al). dualism has temporarily hijacked my brain.

if we continue on this path of letting corporate power run rampant--for the government has morphed with the corporation--natural resources will become more scarce, the poorest on the planet will suffer evermore hardships, and continuous guerilla warfare will be the status quo. it already is. wars in the 21st century will be like orwell predicted. a few perpetual, ragtag, 'rebels' --not connoting good or bad here--will be the only resistance to the hammer of the state that comes down irregularly, but when it does, it does so with massive force, temporarily stomping out opposition, like a jet spray of insect repellent over a swarm of ants. but the ants will continue dying, generation after generation, and the state will continue spraying. the paradigm has shifted from wars like ww2, korea, and vietnam. guerilla warfare will be the ever present back drop, until china becomes so strapped for resources that it decides to battle japan over oil in the south china sea. all of this rumbling in china about japanese textbooks and their revisionist recounts of japanese atrocities during ww2, is but the beginning of an even more massive discontent in china. the anger has to diffuse in some way, otherwise it will boil over, whether in my lifetime or not. wars have been declared over less, haven't they?

each tangent of thought that darts to the future, disconcerts me. there is no hope for the future. everything is fucked. but, and this is a big but (not a big butt), there is always the option of turning the eye inward, and this is the lesson i keep learning from narayana guru. it is the only salve that will bring me peace of mind, soothe my rattled nerves, and bring laughter at the thought of all this that i take so seriously. ha ha!!

am i having fun yet?

you may not be asking that, but i am. the purpose of this blog is to somewhat organize a bum rush of thoughts that plague me. i don't consider any of this 'finished' or 'polished', but maybe passably well-written. the point is to start the flow (and practice) of writing every day. i consider these writings to be polished freewrites, if there is such a thing. eventually, they may morph into something more 'complete'; they may not. the most important purpose of this blog is that it is fun for me. i very much enjoy channeling disparate energies into something i can convey in words. fun is associated with frivolity, but my fun involves delving into serious and sensible thought-experiments, and sometimes delving into not serious and insensible thought-experiments.

how sad is a life without fun? a life so consumed with making sure this thing goes here, that thing goes there. fun requires freedom. to really have fun is a deep thing. riding a rollercoaster may be perceived by some as fun, but it's just a distraction. a trivial delight. what's fun for me is connecting with my inner nature. i love to have a day spread out before me with nothing in particular to do but write down my thoughts and read my books. when the weather is dreadful, that's even better! helmholtz watson would agree. that is why he chose to go to the island at the end of brave new world, where it rained all the time. he knew the writer's ideal weather!

i believe that neurosurgery was fun for my dad. he enjoyed studying the brain, with all of his intellectual capacity. during surgeries, he was a task master. he demanded absolute silence, otherwise it was shiva's wrath. but, you ask, how is this fun? i would respond that fun is something that is enjoyable. enjoyment is something from which you get pleasure. and pleasure is "a fundamental feeling that is hard to define but that people desire to experience" (worldnet.princeton.edu). ha ha!

people who are intrinsically motivated desire a qualitatively different type of pleasure than those who are extrinsically motivated. intrinsically motivated folk bring together all of their aptitudes to do the work they were born to do, and yes, the work is fun. it's not fleeting fun, but it lasts, and it bestows its boons not only on the person experiencing it, but to those in his radius. my dad was just this way. of course, he wasn't perfect, but here was someone who was doing work that garnered all of his various intelligences into a tight bundle, like a fasci, which is an italian word for a bundle of rods, that eventually came to symbolize the fascist party's notion of strength through unity. that is, bringing disparate political parties together into a bundle. alone, they are fragile, but together they are strong. this also holds true for being aligned with your inner nature, or svadharma. when you are aligned, everything falls into place. not without struggle or hard work, and definitely not easily. but the fun is satisfying every day. you don't have to escape your miserable daily life and go bungee jumping, because your life is pure bliss!

if you are motivated by something other than your own nature (money, power, status, etc.), then chances are you don't know how to have fun and have never experienced what true fun is, except maybe when you were a child. and this is sad. don't you think?

There is so Much i Want to Share With You

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Thu, 22 Nov 2007 18:00:00 +0000

which drop will start the gush?
i feel so excited that i don't know where to begin. let me start by explaining where i've been these past several weeks. basically, i've been in my cubicle. that sounds depressing, but it's not actually. the restlessness that i've been feeling (perhaps all my life) is gone. i am happy without plans and without direction. of course, i am planning this india trip, and that requires a certain amount of forethought, but the plans i am abandoning are of the grander sort. i am diving into the abyss, without expectation and without fear. i'll see you "there"!
it's good to be green
start each day with home made green juice. throw these washed/scrubbed ingredients into the vitamix: spinach (a handful for each person), kale or broccoli, celery, carrots, an apple (with seeds removed), and one other fruit, either banana, pineapple, or mango. add some ginger, too. pour a cup of store bought 100% juice into the mix and blend until smooth. then squirt a couple of teaspoons of flax seed oil into the vitamix, and blend on low speed for a few seconds. finally, live a long, healthy life with smooth and satisfying bowel movements! speaking of which, meera told me about the bristol stool chart. check it out. it's very interesting how our society is all-consumed with what we put into our mouths, but too prudish to talk about what comes out of our ass-holes, or doesn't. having a good quality bowel movement--that's a level 3 or 4 on the bristol chart-- is essential every day! also, the enzymes in raw foods are potent, but they are destroyed once cooked. enzymes are a vital digestive aid! and lack of good digestion can lead to a slew of health problems.
dad
my dad's favorite color was blue. today i miss him, and my philosophy is nowhere to be found. i miss my daddy. he used to sing malayalam poetry with the mirth of a child, slapping his knee (or mine) with gusto at a particular verse. i was bereft today because there's so much more i wanted to learn from him. can i enjoy his beloved kathakali without crying? can i be in india for one day without crying? his body left me in april, but he was long gone years before that. he used to say, "my dear, you are me. " i just want to hear that from his lips one more time, then maybe i'll get it. i miss you every day, dad. how can i stop missing you?

More Adventures at Starved Rock State Park

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Wed, 31 Oct 2007 02:18:00 +0000

illinois canyon

this is a behemoth of a canyon, though you can't tell from this photo. our adventure started here. it took ashok and i some walking just to get to this point. and what a serene walk it was! when we got here, two people were taking photos. the lady said we should climb the canyon wall to have a look at the source of the pool that had collected in the canyon. she said, "i'm 50 and i did it with no problem." well, she didn't have to say more. we made our way up the side of the canyon, a little steep but definitely doable, and this is what we saw:
we sat there for a long while, on the edge of the canyon, in awe of the power of the water that had formed it. an old man with white hair and a white mustache was sitting just ahead of us; he had put us to shame with his easy pace. he told us that we could walk along the canyon rim and end up at the parking lot. we had to try it. at this point i noticed a sign that had 'fallen', but i gave it no thought other than a vague, "hmm.. that sign fell." so we made our way across the water where there was an easy opening. by this time, the old man had disappeared in the opposite direction and a group of foreign tourists came across in the direction we were headed. we walked along the rim of the canyon, periodically checking out the view and the steep drops. then we very nearly walked into two burly forest preserve police, but they weren't your granola types, more like young marines. they gave us a lecture on why we weren't supposed to be on the rim of the canyon, people have died, the park doesn't have the money to keep up the trails, etc. they took our ids, phoned them in and whatnot. the marines were basically nice and left us with a warning, but what a buzzkill!! they told us the easiest way down, and off we went, and off they went to kill other peoples' buzzes. so this is where it gets interesting. we couldn't find a decent way down for the longest time. we could have gone back in the direction we came, but i didn't want to run into those ding dongs (to quote otto). eventually we found a spot where a descent was feasible, and ashok made it down easily enough, but i was a big baby and took several minutes to muster up the courage to realize that i was going to have to slide at least 3 feet before i hit the boulder beneath me. i sat there, contemplating only the moment, and grabbing a hunk of moss with my right hand, which had grown thick and verdant on the wet canyon walls. but it wasn't strong enough to hold me. i didn't want to fall! waaahhh! but there were no other options. thank god for my husband! he talked me through it in a very calm voice, and i slid down the great illinois canyon and fell on my ass with a thump, but aside from a hand scrape and a slightly bruised ego, this nature girl was fine. and we were ready to move on!

more to come soon...

Piercing Odors and Clouds

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Thu, 25 Oct 2007 15:43:00 +0000

odor on the western express
i don't often take the bus, but i decided to take it this past tuesday because ashoka was playing a 3-song audition gig for "bodog battle of the bands" at the elbo room, and he was already there with his green machine--a lime green '76 bmw he got from otto. i took the bus, so we could ride home together and talk. it was nearly dusk when i boarded the western avenue express, heading northbound. i put my two dollars in the slot and turned to find a seat. immediately to my left, covering the three priority seats, was a blue tarp with a large hump underneath it, sitting somewhat upright. the tarp was spilling into the aisle, and i was forced to step on it, as i made my way to an open seat. i had no idea whose misery it concealed; there was not a hand or the top of a head to give me a clue. but whoever it was found the spot comfortable enough to snore. i sat only two seats behind the mound, and i had to turn my head to the side several times, in hopes that i would avoid the direct hit of odor emanating from it. i felt not only that i was smelling him, but something far more pervasive than that. an odor is a chemical dissolved in the air, at a very low concentration. chemicals are made up of molecules, and molecules, in turn, are the smallest properties of a compound. a compound is a substance made up of two or more elements, and an element is a substance that cannot be decomposed to a simpler substance. and since elements are made up of atoms, which are the smallest particles of matter, i was quite literally chewing and swallowing this man along with my gum. a stowaway in my saliva, surreptitiously traveling down my esophagus. i was breathing him too, and he was swooshing about the cilia in my lungs, like particles in an ocean moving over a surface of sea anemones. so where did he end, and i begin?
a piercing experience
helmholtz watson, in brave new world, is an alpha-plus lecturer in writing at the college of emotional engineering. he wants to teach his students how to write words that are "piercing". but in the brave new world, superficiality and frivolity are the modi operandi and depth of thought is misunderstood, frowned upon, an occasion to pop some soma. last night, after i re-pierced my nose, i thought about helmholtz. when i started working in cubicle land, i felt the need to take out my nose ring. no one told me to, but i felt it was the corporate sacrifice i had to make. i had been without a nose ring for almost a year, and then yesterday as i was riding home with meg, my carpool mate, i got to thinking about re-piercing it. it became my mission for the evening, and after three hours of sitting in the sink with my fingers up my nose, and a nose ring half way in it, with one dinner break, i succeeded in piercing through the cartilage. i really felt that i had accomplished something great, as if this act was symbolic of me, coming back to myself. i was triumphant. helmholtz is searching for something beyond the superficial assignments he gives his students. he knows there is something more than this. here's an excerpt from chapter 4 of brave new world:

Helmholtz shook his head. "Not quite. I'm thinking of a queer feeling I sometimes get, a feeling that I've got something important to say and the power to say it–only I don't know what it is, and I can't make any use of the power. If there was some different way of writing … Or else something else to write about …" He was silent; then, "You see," he went on at last, "I'm pretty good at inventing phrases–you know, the sort of words that suddenly make you jump, almost as though you'd sat on a pin, they seem so new and exciting even though they're about something hypnopædically obvious. But that doesn't seem enough. It's not enough for the phrases to be good; what you make with them ought to be good too."
"But your things are good, Helmholtz."
"Oh, as far as they go." Helmholtz shrugged his shoulders. "But they go such a little way. They aren't important enough, somehow. I feel I could do something much more important. Yes, and more intense, more violent. But what? What is there more important to say? And how can one be violent about the sort of things one's expected to write about? Words can be like X-rays, if you use them properly–they'll go through anything. You read and you're pierced. That's one of the things I try to teach my students–how to write piercingly. But what on earth's the good of being pierced by an article about a Community Sing, or the latest improvement in scent organs? Besides, can you make words really piercing–you know, like the very hardest X-rays–when you're writing about that sort of thing? Can you say something about nothing? That's what it finally boils down to. I try and I try …"

i have done the literal piercing, and now i want to pierce with words, just like helmholtz is beginning to figure out in this passage. but i'll do it with no grand plans and no great expectations. the time is now.
morning clouds
so many strato-cumuli on this sunny and crisp day. just like this:

Dr. Pillay's Tribute Video

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Fri, 19 Oct 2007 15:46:00 +0000

Set Billy Free!

noreply@blogger.com (sunita) — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 14:13:00 +0000

♪acid rain, acid rain ♪
i don't want to see you bathing in the acid rain! as i was driving north on i-55 this week, back to the city from work, i smelled acidity in the air, and i could taste it in the back of my throat, like getting up close and personal with the breath of a panting dog or taking a big whiff of wet, rusty metal. it was disturbing, and i wondered what the ph imbalance was doing to the surrounding flora and fauna, including humans who live in the area. it rained all night last night, and we're expecting more, which is odd for this time of year. Click here to read about acid rain in a fun, kid-friendly format! ashok and i were lying in bed last night, and we turned on the television. this is really odd because we never watch the idiot box before bed, but we turned on the local news of all things, which i fucking detest. i hate the fake paper shuffling, the stupid banter, the waste-of-everyone's-time, fear-inducing "news" stories, and the hyperbolic use of cosmetics, YET we turned the damn thing on because the weather was supposed to be of day after tomorrow proportions: thunderstorms, tornadoes, oh my! but alas, much to our chagrin, we both had to come to work this morning. the rain is supposed to continue, though. and so too, the acid.
superstitions must die!
i don't think i have any of these critters left. i choose to live fearlessly. i just delete all those chain letter emails as soon as i get them. this is duality at its worst! if you do x, then y will happen. what a bunch of hogwash, and i do not subscribe to any of it. the last superstition that i had and managed to exorcise had to do with billy idol songs. i thought that if i heard a billy idol song then someone would die, because someone did die after i heard one. isn't that goddamn ridiculous? jesus. anyway, billy can blare fearlessly through my radio now, not that he does, but now it's for quality control purposes, not out of fear. anyway, this must be the stupidest thing i've ever confessed to, but i thought you might appreciate it!
higher ed?
i will never pursue another degree again. for someone like my dad, who studied the sciences, a higher degree was essential. but for me, in the arts, a higher degree is unnecessary, and it didn't feel natural at all. most importantly, it encumbered my creative flow. the two classes i took at roosevelt taught me something important. in fact it can be summed up in one sentence: show, don't tell. i don't live by this as a religious credo; sometimes the opposite is true, but i will continue to grow from this piece of wisdom. there is so much about institutionalized education in the arts that doesn't sit well with me. i thought that i needed a class to write. i was so sure of this. but i was wrong. i was striving, trying, reaching for something to grab on to, and i've come to realize, through my study of atmopadesa satakam, that all that striving is unnecessary. after all, you can't force a flower from the ground by pulling it up and prying its petals open. it will happen on its own schedule, and this is how i've come to feel about myself and my growth as a writer. the structure of the classroom is confining. i feel this not only as a student, but as an instructor as well. the concept of grades feels contrived, giving and receiving them. if you're a student who's in it for the grade, then all i have to say is good luck. you have mastered how to please everyone, but yourself. i was in it for the knowledge, but i couldn't play the game and pretend like i actually gave a fuck about letters on a paper. if you want to create art, just start doing it. the motivation will come naturally if you are aligned with your svadharma (inner nature). if not, let it go baby!