philosophy

Fingers Crossed

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Fingers crossed….it Goes both ways.

Fingers crossed behind your back is what you do when you’re lying to someone

Somehow the crossing of the fingers behind the back

Is a message to, or a deal with, the absolute…

You’re lying to the person but your fingers are crossed behind the back so somehow it doesn’t count that you’re lying

It doesn’t count to who?

It’s got to be the one who sees everything

Behind your back

the one we used to call God but don’t anymore.

You’re cheating but you’re not cheating

because you’re crossing your fingers.

Is it a deal with the devil or a deal with god or simply with you

The other way you can cross your fingers is openly

Occasionally with a pledge

“I’ll cross my fingers for you“

Said to evoke luck and is this not also a petition to the absolute?

I’ll send this request to infinite unknowable source

so that this good thing can happen.

Fingers crossed.

Which way do you want to do it?

Either way works

Heaven

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Watercolor by Dana Zed

I am on the plane looking at the clouds. I needed to get a Lyft at3:30 AM to make this flight. The window view is more beautiful than usual. It is dawn. I always get the aisle seat if I can cuz truth is I can still see out the window

i am looking at these celestial clouds and remembering when I flew after my sister Sally died young leaving three small children. I was in the airport talking to a person dressed in an air attendants outfit that I didn’t recognize.

Suddenly someone alerted everyone to get ready and others stand back. I was told to stand back, out of the way. I didn’t know what was going on. I obeyed.

Then low and behold, Steve Martin appeared. All the people I thought were waiting passengers and airline ticket counter people and attendants, were actors in a movie. Steve began arguing ridiculously with the ticket counter lady.

The experience left me with a strong impression that our real lives are not our real lives. Somehow I felt this had something to do with Sally. Like all our lives were plays and we were actors and it was her time to get off the set

After this experience I was on the plane. Wanting Sally to appear to me in the sky. Much like as a child I wanted God to come down from the ceiling. And do what ? Give a blessing? No. I think I wanted just to connect. I never got farther than God coming down because God never did. Or maybe God did.

Today in the airport cafe, I heard a concerned young lady asking her partner and wondering whether the cafe had hot chocolate because it was not on the menu. I looked hard at the menu and saw mocha this and mocha that. I said to them, “I think they do, just ask” and I went on my way.

Several minutes later I ran into them and asked

“Did they have it?” “Yes, they did!” She said. “Oh good, I’m happy for you”. I said. We all smiled.

And there you have it, God. Simple ordinary love here and there.

“Oh good, I’m happy for you”.

Do You Believe in Magic?

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I have been working with images of time, specifically the clock recently.


The next painting which I did a week or so ago                                                                                                                                                       Depicts 9am to Midnight


Here is the painting or the state of the latest painting which I worked on last night, the fuzz of time . . . . 


A child in my ceramics class today made two clocks for the bedside tables of her mom and her dad.

Here they are. I had no imput on these whatsoever.  I didn’t see them until she announced what they were and put them into the box.                                                                           It was like seeing my paintings come to life.

The seamstress, the dress and the Ocean

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There are clearly few, who are so talented as Connie WalkerShaw.

Today I pick up the dress she made for me from special  fabric that had been given to me when I was 35. I remember because it was given to  me by an older woman artist who shares my birthDAY and lives in a synagogue. She gave me the fabric when she was 70. She was twice my age. The fabric has gold threads in it. It is like a color shifting fairy tale fabric that changes from lavender to gold, hinting at rose.

I am late picking up the dress, so her lesson is already underway. I try on the dress which is magical and am ready to go. As I leave, I ask the student seamstress if she knows that Connie also is in a band and that she can play two saxophones at once? The little girl says a shy “no”. I smile, shrug, raise my eyebrows and say “well, she can” and leave.

After WalkerShaw I drive to the beach..   20120317-201932.jpg   Ocean Beach in San Francisco is like heaven. It is so empty and so nothing. I can see as far as I can see in three directions. My cells take in the empty vastness with relief. This hasn’t changed. I think then, have I changed? Each time I stand at Ocean Beach I remember other times I’ve stood before her. Before the ocean and cried out with my soul for all that I hope for. She solicits requests like that. The ocean is vastness itself. Before her, troubles shrink and expire, being obviously temporary. She emanates eternal presence, over and over, her waves sounding like a large echo of my internal self; of something that helps me let go and know.

It’s the same, and different. It always is.

Two solitary men pass me going one way; then an older couple passes the other way. That’s it. The beach’s nature to human ratio is nourishing, safe and separated from the highway by blocks and blocks of gorgeous graffiti, painted on the ocean side, I assume late at night.

Image 1

There are birds. That familiar seagull silhouette is everywhere; taking off and landing. I notice a particularly nice one but sense something odd about it. It’s the wrong size. I realize it’s outdoor art of some kind as it is not a real bird and even far away it reads clearly and I like the design so I walk towards it. It takes longer than I expect. Getting closer I see it’s a sign. Not a regular government sign but still it seems official. It says something like “strawberry ice plant sanctuary ends here”, yet there’s nothing but sand for miles.

 

Going There Alone

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I went to allende alone

i could have asked someone but I didn’t feel like it

buying tickets at the bookstore, I was surprised when asked “How many tickets?”

I said “oh, just me and my lonesome” kidding around ish.

 

I know how to park at that downtown oakland church.

You don’t go for the lot. it’s way too small

however the neighboring streets, particularly

the ONE WAY in the wrong direction from the entrance to the church

is usually an easy spot

and close

 

there it is

I am parking behind another car which has just parked

not exactly behind but on the other side of a driveway

I know the car type

older model and the too many bumperstickers

none of which I could disagree with

“AWAKEN” and such

 

The woman who gets out of the car is dressed in layers of dresses and baggy pants

She is messing around in and out of the car.

She is filling or emptying a water bottle

She wears a scarf

Finally she throws a guitar case over her shoulder and walks in the direction of the church

 

I am not wanting to be near her but I am not disgusted either

I realize that we are going to end up waiting together at the corner for the light to change.

She turns to look at me and there is a moment when I could have pretended I didn’t know but I didn’t do that

When she looked at me I said,

“Janet?”, “Janet Fowler?”

 

She usually sings at this church on Wednesdays In a room downstairs. Therefore, the guitar

She decides to see Allende instead at $15. without blinking an eye

Waiting for it to start we talk.

She has been homeless for a long time and she doesn’t seem crazy. Mostly she camps out.

 

Not needing more of her story,  I stand up , excuse myself and ask her to save my place.

She says, “Leave something”, so I leave my scarf and go look at the books for sale in the lobby.

 

The latino poet laureate of san Francisco

Introduces Isabelle and after some chatter

Alllelne reads from her new novel which is a mystery set in san Francisco amid teenagers.

 

She reads a gruesome description of a brutal murder discovered by children.

 

Immediately, abruptedly even, after the description Susan gets up and leaves.

I respected it and was relieved at the same time. It felt like she lived by different rules and would not allow herself to be in that dark atmosphere.IMG_1219

Like she couldn’t risk it

Or wouldn’t allow it.

Anyhow she left.

 

But when I got back to my car,

Her car was still there. Still across the driveway. Still saying “AWAKEN”

Where Are You Going?

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Amma asks , “There are 86,400 seconds in a day. What are you doing with them?”

She asks, “Where are you going? If you are in a car and someone asks you where you are going, you know. If you get on a plane you know where you are going. Where are you going with your life? To go around willy-mildly is no good”, she’ll say.
“What is the goal of your life?”, she will ask.
“Is it the realization of god?”, she’ll continue.

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