intelligent, angry elephant

An extended version of my blog post on anger from last week has just appeared in elephant, an online journal devoted to yoga, sustainability, politics and spirituality. Take a look.

elephant journal: Yoga, Sustainability, Politics, Spirituality

New Year's Wishes

On Wednesday, I went for a walk to find a wishing well. I’d heard about this place, and seen signs pointing to it in the Morton National Park, near Bundanoon. It seemed like a good place to visit in the few days remaining before the new year, an auspicious spot to contemplate the year to come. Resolutions seem all too likely to result in bad conscience later on — I prefer the idea of new year’s wishes (keeping in mind the old fairy tale warning, be careful what you wish for…)

On the way, I came across an echidna, snuffling in the bush. She put her sturdy front claws up on an old log and blinked in my direction, sniffing the air, before waddling away on her ancient looking legs, black and yellow spines smooth against her body. I took this as a good sign.

The account I’d heard of the wishing well led me to imagine it nestled in a glen. I expected that at some point I would leave the fire trail style track I was following through eucalypt forest near the edge of a cliff, and descend via a narrower track into rainforest, before reaching a shadowy and mysterious place, suitable for magical transactions. 

There’s a spot that fits this description called the Fairy Bower falls, which I visited last time I was in this park. I remembered being enchanted by a glistening curtain of water adorning the rock face, and tantalised by the sound of a large bird beating its powerful wings ahead of me as I climbed back out of the valley. At one point on that earlier walk, I noticed tufts of very soft grey hair on the track, and turned a steep corner to discover fresh entrails laid out in the middle of the path. There was nothing more of the animal that had been taken, probably a possum or glider. I gazed up the enormous trunks of the nearby gums, but never did see the bird of prey.

When I came to a neat sign reading “Wishing Well,” I was still on high ground, however, and there was no sign of a track leading downwards or anywhere, for that matter. Next to the sign was a spot for a car, and beyond that a rocky area stretching away. Slightly confused, I walked up onto a kind of rock platform and was surprised to see what appeared to be a large metal cage perched at one end of it. On closer inspection, I realized that I had found the “well,” a natural formation in the rock. It was remarkably round and quite small – less than a metre wide and deep, filled with rainwater and lichen. In the mud at the bottom, visitors had tossed a few coins. What had appeared to be a cage was actually a large, clumsy but solid fence, constructed around this small depression in the rock. Presumably it was designed to guarantee the safety of young children, who might be left unattended at the “well” by extremely careless parents.

Needless to say, the fence dispelled any sense of mystery or wonder that might have been evoked by the curiously symmetric hole in the rock. Instead, the unattractive, oversized barrier emanated a vaguely menacing sense of the reach of institutionalized paternalism all the way into this relatively remote spot in the wild. At the same time, this effort to guarantee the safety of tiny tourists seemed touchingly naïve and inadequate. A few steps from the fence, a child bent on self-harm could easily throw himself off the rock ledge into a small valley where with a bit of luck he could be bitten by a snake, or perhaps be taken by a bird of prey, his entrails to be discovered later by startled bushwalkers…

I sat down on the sun-warmed rock a short distance from the “wishing well” and pondered the strangely myopic and earnest attitude of the National Park rangers who, I supposed, had erected this ungainly looking safety structure.

Then it dawned on me: of course, the primary purpose of the fence was not to protect unsupervised toddlers from drowning, but to protect the relevant authorities from the possibility of being sued. That’s why there are similar barriers at every official lookout in the park, partially obscuring the view, right next to vast, unfenced stretches of cliff where there is nothing to interrupt the line of sight or of accidental flight.

These barriers don’t relate in any very practical or commonsensical way to the visible, material world, the landscape or the people hiking across it, looking at views and making wishes. But this makes perfect sense once you realise that they are there chiefly to protect an abstract legal identity. The objectionably solid fence in front of me unveiled itself as an oddly metaphysical entity, a creation of law, whose true purpose and meaning could only become fully apparent in the actual or merely anxiously anticipated context of a courtroom.

This was at once depressing and intriguing. Ever since Australia was colonized by the British, the powerful and sometimes violently fictional constructs of Western law have been getting in the way of any more graceful, sensitive, or simply sensible way of relating to the natural environment and its inhabitants, here. But the presence of this fence also demonstrated the potential of wishes. If an idea, shared by enough people, can cause a bloody big metal fence to appear on a rock in the middle of the wilderness, where it clearly doesn’t belong, then what other, more beautiful and apt creations (or disappearances) might result from well-formed wishes, the kind that an echnidna might lend a little of her spiny magic to support?

 

May all your new year’s wishes for 2012 be true, and come true.

TV Shows: Everybody Hates Chris

When a friend of mine first recommended Everybody Hates Chris to me I was sceptical. I had never been a sitcom fan, nor did I like the Cosby Show. But I gave it a tryand the minute I finished my first episodeI was hooked.

Everybody Hates Chris (2005-2009) is a sitcom produced and narrated by a stand-upcomedian and actor, Chris Rock, who was inspired to create the series by his own childhood in Bed Stuy, Brooklyn, New York. The show ran for four seasons and there were 88 episodes in total.

 

The series revolves around the life of a working-classfamily living in Brooklyn, New York in the 1980s. There is 13-year-old Chris, his two younger siblings: Drew and Tonya and his parents: Julius and Rochelle.

Chrisis the most level-headedmember of the family. He's a goodand obedientkid and it is only due to his sheer bad luck that he gets into trouble at the end of each episode.

 

Drewis everything that Chris is not – tall, good at sports, popular at school and lucky. He can also pick up different skills such as martial arts just by copying other people that he sees on TV.

Tonyais the most bratty and spoilt kid you will ever meet. She always tells on Chris and makes sure that blame for all her bad deeds is on him. She loves watching cartoons and drinking hot chocolate

Juliusis what you call a “cheapskate”. He hates spending money and loves finding it in the street. When he shops, he goes straight to the damaged food section because it's cheaper.

Rochelleis a ghetto snob. She hates food stamps and generic products and loves shopping for name brand food. She spends her days lazying about and eating chocolate turtles.

Giventhe time of the year, I would like to suggest that you watch the episode called Everybody Hates Kwanzaa. Unfortunately, I could only find links without subtitles:

part 1

part 2

And some general information about this holiday:

Kwanzaa is a seven-day holiday celebrated between December 26th and January 1st by the African-American community in the United States. It was initiated by Maluana Karenga in the 1960s. Itis based on year-end African harvestfestivals The name comes from the Swahili phrase "matunda ya kwanza," which means "first fruits of the harvest”. The holiday is neither religious nor political. It is meant to celebrate the African-American heritage and culture.

The seven-day holiday is based on seven principles: Unity, Self-Determination, Collective Work and Responsibility,Cooperative Economics, Purpose, Creativity and Faith that are represented by seven symbols:

• the crops (fruit, nuts and vegetables),
• a place mat,
• corn,
• seven candles,
• a candle holder, (kinara)
• the unity cup,
• gifts.

It is estimated that some 18 million African Americans celebrate Kwanzaa.

GLOSARRY:

to give something a try – spróbować czegoś

an episode – odcinek

hooked– uzależniona

stand-up (comedy, comedian) – whena single person tells jokes

Bed-Stuy– short for Bedford-Stuyvesant in central Brooklyn, New York

in total – w sumie, razem

to revolve around – opowiadać o czymś/ koncentrować się wokół czegoś/ kogoś

working-class– robotnicza

siblings– rodzeństwo/ a sibling – brat/ siostra

level-headed– zrównoważony (calm and able to deal easily with difficult situations)

obedient – posłuszny

sheer– zwyczajny (complete)

bad luck– pech

pick up skills– nabywać umiejętności

martial arts– wschodnie sztuki walki

to copy– naśladować

bratty – rozpuszczone, rozwydrzone

spoilt/ spoiled– rozpieszczone, zepsute

to tell onsomebody – skarżyć na kogoś

deeds– uczynki

a cheapskate– sknera

damaged – uszkodzone

food stamps– kartki, za które można kupić jedzenie/ kartki żywnościowe

genericfood – niemarkowe, wyprodukowane pod marką danego supermarketu (a product that is advertised with the name of the shop where you buy it, rather than the name of the company that made it)

name brand food – markowe

to laze about– leniuchować

given – biorąc pod uwagę, zważywszy

subtitles– napisy

a community– społeczność

to initiate– zapoczątkować

harvest – żniwa, zbiory

heritage– dziedzictwo

principles– zasady

self-determination– wolna wola (the ability or power to make decisions for yourself)

collective– zbiorowy

cooperative– wspólny

purpose– cel

crops– płody rolne, plony

a place mat– podkładka pod talerz

a candle holder– świecznik

some– około

Go, Read, Conquer ~ Classics

Hi. I hoped you haven't missed me too much...
Today my guest post is up on Martine Svanevik's blog.
It's pretty exciting stuff, if I do say so myself, and Martine is wonderful. So, go read it!

English in Pics: Where's the Christmas Tree at ? Let's Design it up!

Hi!

You didn't think I was going to snub you and not wish you a Merry Christmas, did you? :)

Merry Christmas!

May all your wishes come true at this magical time of the year :)

I'm going to throw in a few Christmas-related pics now :)

I hope you like them.

SANTA

Santa Claus or Saint Nicholas is the guy in red, with an impressive 'stacheand a beard who snacks on milk and cookies. He might leave you quality presents but most of the time it's just another gift set you will pass on to your mum.

FAMILY HOLIDAY CARDS

For Christmas some families have their picture taken professionally. Then they add a few lines of wishes and send it in the form of a Christmas card. It may come out cute, awkward or totally wrong.

GIFT SETS

A gift set is a compilation of useless products that you would never buy for yourself but which, for some reason, you are more than willing to buy for your family member or a friend because it seems so cute and creative and nicely packaged.

CANDY CANE

Traditional candy canes are cane-shaped, red and white peppermint-flavouredsweets but you can find them in different flavours and colour combinations too. This year I got candy canes for my students. It was funny to look at how some of them examined them suspiciouslywhile others popped them into their mouths, totally unfazed.

 GINGERBREAD MAN

The most famous gingerbread man is Gingy from Shrek. Whatever you do, don't touch his gumdrop buttons.

gumdrops

Gingy in Shrek

EGG NOG

Egg nog is a traditional Christmas drink made of milk (and/or cream), sugar, eggs and liquor, and spiced with cinnamon or nutmeg.

CHRISTMAS TREE

Whether it is a real fir, spruce or pine tree or a fake plastic one, you think that yours is the most beautiful one and deserves some kind of a Christmas-tree-of-the-year award. 

The one at the Rockefeller Center in New York might seem impressive to others, but you just think it's too flashy for your taste.

RUDOLPH THE RED-NOSED REINDEER

If there ever was a Christmas special on Santa's entourage, Rudolph would hog the camera. Although there are eight other reindeer that pull Santa's sleigh, it is Rudolph who is the most hyped reindeer. Despite there beingDasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen, it is Rudolph who gets most buzz. All this talk of him beingbulliedand called namesseems like a well-fabricatedstory. Just saying!

CHRISTMAS LIGHTS

I had to include Christmas lights in my post just to be able to post this photo.

DITTO – me too; I agree; likewise

Whatever you do, please keep in mind what happened to Mr Clark Griswold in the movie Christmas Vacation.

STOCKING

A Christmas stocking should be filled with small boring gifts such as sweets (candy) or fruit. Don't even try stuffing your stocking with bulky objects. That is not going to work!

Unrealistic-looking stocking

WRAPPING PAPER

Around Christmas I am always jealous of how some people seem to be gift wrapping wizards. They need a bit of wrapping paper and a few seconds to turn a regular present into a work of art.

If you are like me – a hopeless gift wrapper – just stick to gift bags or have your gift gift-wrapped.

Below the classic gift-wrapping scene from Love Actually:

Love Actually scene

GLOSSARY:

to snub – zignorować, zlekceważyć

to throw in – dorzucić

a 'stache – short for moustache – wąsy

to snack on – podjadać, przekąszać

quality presents – tut. fajne prezenty

a gift set – zestaw upominkowy

to pass something on to – dać, przekazać dalej

awkward– niezręczne, kłopotliwe 

cane-shaped – w kształcie laski

peppermint-flavoured– o smaku miętowym

to examine something – dokładnie oglądać, analizować

suspiciously– podejrzliwie

unfazed– niezrażony (not surprised or worried)

liquor– alkohol

nutmeg – gałka muszkatołowa

fir – jodła

spruce– świerk

pine tree – sosna

fake – sztuczna

flashy– krzykliwy

for somebody's taste – jak na czyjś gust

a Christmas special – odcinek świąteczny, świąteczne wydanie

somebody's entourage– orszak, świta

to hog – okupować

a sleigh – sanie

to hype – robić szum, reklamować

buzz – rozgłos

to bully – dręczyć, znęcać się

to call names – przezywać

fabricated– zmyślona, stworzona (to fabricate – to invent or produce something false in order to deceive)

to keep in mind – pamiętać, wziąć pod uwagę

to stuff something withsomething– wypychać

bulky– olbrzymi, o dużej objętości

a wizard – geniusz, czarodziej

hopeless– beznadziejny

to stick to something – pozostać wiernym

The intelligence of anger

Mid-way through a peaceful ramble through the bush at Wentworth Falls a few weeks ago, my friends Maddy, Tess and I came to a standstill when our conversation got on to the topic of how much anger is expressed, in sometimes astonishingly vitriolic forms, when unpopular views are voiced in the media. Writers of opinion pieces regularly devote columns to expressing their shock and dismay at receiving floods of abusive and threatening messages after touching, sometimes quite innocently, on a topic that unleashes unrestrained fury in a large number of their readers. It’s a disturbing phenomenon –we found we weren’t capable of walking and talking about it at the same time. Maddy’s little son Zeke looked on quizzically from his vantage point in a pack on Maddy’s back while we gesticulated. At one point, attempting to move along the track while still conversing, I fell off the wooden walkway into the reeds on one side. What’s going on, here?

An obvious point is that it is difficult to do tango philosophy, bushwalk backwards, and maintain your dignity and physical safety all at the same time. I don’t suggest you try it at home. Another obvious point, which is more to the point, is that the possibility of instantaneous, electronic communication with strangers (as well as friends) means that anger can be expressed with fewer inhibitions than ever before. You can let yourself go when writing an email or contributing to an online discussion, and send the message while passion is still running high, in a way that you wouldn’t normally do in face to face communication, or if you had to wait until the next day to post a letter, and certainly not if you had to get the message past an editor in order for it to reach its audience. The restraints that operate to keep anger in check in other communicative situations aren’t readily available online.

Another, slightly less obvious point is that many people seem to contain a reservoir of anger, that has been filled drip by drip, day by day, until it’s ready to overflow, so that the next irritant that triggers it, however minor or impersonal it may be, can break the restraining wall and unleash a wave that comes crashing towards the person who provoked that final drop.

Jungle Yoga

I observed this phenomenon in my own response to a teacher on a ten-day meditation retreat at the beginning of this year. The retreat was held in Thailand, in an extraordinarily beautiful location. We stayed in floating bungalows on a lake surrounded by ancient rainforest, said to have greater biodiversity than the Amazon. The water was a perfect temperature for lazy swimming; there were kayaks readily available; there was even a masseuse on hand in case you developed some tension in your muscles from the hard work of daily yoga classes and meditation. And the quality of meditation instruction was very high – there were two teachers, an American man and an Australian woman, who had both trained extensively in Burma. On top of their skillful and engaging group instruction, they made themselves available for daily personal interviews with each member of our small group.

You might think that it would be practically impossible to get angry, or to sustain any anger that might somehow arise, in such a blissful and well-supported situation. But of course, you would be wrong.

After my first personal interview with the male teacher, I found myself crying tears of fury and frustration into the delicious green pawpaw salad I was eating for lunch. The retreat was held in silence, so no one asked me what was wrong, but the woman who was sitting closest to me later said that when she saw me crying she thought to herself, “Wow, that woman is really in touch with her feelings.” My own view was that I was way too much in touch with them. Who wants to spend ten days in an earthly paradise getting up close and personal with anger?

But this was a situation in which there was no easy outlet for aggressive emotion. I couldn’t send an abusive email, or even have a bitch to a third party about the way the teacher had spoken to me. I had no choice but to get still more deeply “in touch” with my anger. It was an interesting investigation. One thing I realized pretty quickly was that my reaction was out of all proportion to the apparent cause. It didn’t seem plausible that I was really this angry, purely over the condescending, dismissive attitude a man whom I didn’t even know had taken toward me. Why should I even care about what he thought of me, especially on first, superficial impression?

I recently told this story at a dinner, and a woman at the table jumped in at this point to tell me I was right to be angry, that intelligent women are constantly treated this way by men in positions of authority, especially in spiritual circles, and that too often we accept this demeaning behavior, or blame ourselves, feeling that we have somehow failed in the exchange, rather than recognizing that anger is an appropriate response: women shouldn’t have to put up with this kind of thing, and they shouldn’t support it by accepting it. Too often, you see a man playing the dubious role of guru in front of twenty women in leotards who treat him like a minor, or even major deity. Obviously the women involved get something out of the exchange, too, but respect for women’s intelligence, and for intelligent women, is a likely, early casualty.

She had a good point; I recognized the scenario she was describing (which can manifest with or without leotards, or even any kind of spiritually signifying fashion statement). At the same time, I knew it wouldn’t have been helpful or just for me to unleash my anger over this kind of thing on the teacher I met in Thailand. He was only the last in a series. Alone he wouldn’t have provoked more than mild frustration and surprise.

It turned out that “getting in touch” with my anger meant realizing this – seeing the structural causes, and the long chain of events that had contributed to the store of anger that I carried with me to Thailand. At this level, anger becomes understanding, even wisdom, an energy that can drive action rather than reaction. It takes restraint to resist reacting to anger while it’s raw, but it seems to me that if you manage to do this and stay “in touch” with the feeling rather than suppressing it, you can get to a point of understanding where it’s possible to let the anger move you in invigorating, positive ways that don’t do violence to anyone.

A few days after the dinner, I did a yoga class taught by the woman who’d intervened so passionately when I was talking about my experience in Thailand. I watched and followed as she demonstrated breathing exercises and yoga postures surrounded by a group of about twenty women wearing leotards, plus a couple of men in similar outfits. She herself was dressed in loose white dance top and shorts, of very thin, soft material, worn over black tights and a tight black top, and although she was sitting on the floor like the rest of us, she seemed somehow elevated. She had the rapt attention of the whole group, whether she was simply drawing her hand slowly toward her chest, exhaling, or executing an impossibly perfect upward dog (that last bit is not a abrupt departure into automatic writing, it makes quite ordinary sense in the language of yoga). Perhaps it would be an exaggeration to say that we were gazing at her as if in the presence of a goddess, but there was certainly an air of devotion in the room…

In this season, traditionally known for festivity and family tension, I won’t go so far as to wish you a cranky Christmas, an angry Hannukah, or a simply furious solstice (summer or winter) but may you recognise the divine in yourself and others, and give your anger time to reveal its deep and supple intelligence.

Motivational Speech.

Haven't had the easiest time writing lately. (Have you noticed how I omitted the subject of the sentence? Now you guys have no idea who is having a hard time writing lately. Well, I'll tell you. It's me.)*

Haven't had the easiest time writing lately. There's been so much going on in my life outside of noveling, and my writing sessions are about as long as mini skirts and very distracted. It's hard to get into a story when life's like that, you know?

Yes, you do.

And sometimes I see all these amazing books coming out, and I'm like, "Why even bother? It's taking me forever to write this, and by the time it's ready, someone else will have 'stolen' my idea." ("Will have stolen" is the future perfect tense. Pretty exciting when I get to use that kind of verb.)

Then I have to remember that I don't write stories because I want them to be bound up and sold. I never have. I write stories because I'm a writer. Duh. That's what we do.

It's simple. When I think about how miserable I am trying to write a story, all I have to do is think about how much more miserable I'd be if I weren't trying to write a story. See how simple that is? Yah.

So, do you have any great motivational speeches?  How do you handle your writing when life is uber distracting?

P.S. I have no idea why there's a period in the title of this post. I just felt I needed one.

*The parenthesis in this post are the kind of things I think about whenever words are involved. If you correct others' grammar in your head while they're speaking, or mentally rearrange sentences, raise your hand now.