33rd birthday post

October 22, 2009

What is it that makes me feel so lonely on my birthday? Why do I want to cling to something?

Memory of a memory

My father and I push a giant shopping cart around The Price Club. We are to fill it up with bulk items. 20 rolls of toilet paper, a gallon of mouthwash, a package of 8 brushes for teeth, blocks of cheese, frozen foods, small batteries, medium batteries, large batteries. With these items, I will move into a first floor apartment, with low ceilings on Putnam Avenue. The apartment is cold in the winter and cool in the summer. Every morning I will wake up to green ivy or foxglove or roses or changing leaves. Sometimes the backyard will fill with snow. On the occasion of a full moon, I will not be able to sleep for the insistence of bright light filling the room.

On the day after my 27h birthday, I will wake up with a sexy black dress, barely halfway down my body, a bra still in place and eye-liner smudged around my eyes. I will feel both sad and happy when I wake. This will happen a few times in other apartments.

We dodge other shopping carts using my father’s well-worked out strategy. Keep moving. When stopped, pull into corners. Remain alert. There are a lot of careless shoppers out there.

Babies like to sit in the front of shopping carts. Is that legal? They enjoy grabbing items of intended purchase and throwing them out of the cart back into the aisles. I would enjoy this too. I think I might enjoy doing it while I poop into my diaper. Sometimes I get together with my friend Julie and we throw food, but we don’t wear diapers or poop. We are ladies who like to be in control of ourselves and then to suddenly lose it. Suddenly.

Let’s lose it tonight, even if we don’t see each other. Suddenly.

Note: I might be losing in in Prosepct Park with leg warmers at around 9pm or I might  find myself at ‘Where The Wild Things Are’ at the Park Slope Pavillion at 9:15. In all probability, there will be a party at my house tomorrow night. Call me about all or any of these things.

The Dinner…………..mmmmmeeewwwwww

Finally I am able to share these images from The Equanimity Dinner a few weeks ago.

I believe that the dinner was a great success: We struck a good balance between dinner party and performance. There was a lot of conversation; the spontaneous sharing of food and ideas. I let people know what was set in stone about the ritual and what they could interpret. People drifted in and out. Melissa, Laura and Jodi participated in the entire meal with gusto.  Melissa brought green peas — which I love — and Laura brought congee. Yuck! My father brought 2 pounds of Pasta con Sarde for my aversion food. I also added Pomegranite, walnuts and sardines to the table.

The first course was champagne and lemon sorbet. Very sweet.

The first course was an act of self-love.

Then a Parsley chew, walking through the maze. People appreciated the free parsley. People appreciated all the free food throughout the evening. I was happy playing myself, the maternal Italian Grandmother.

The next course was plain quinoa. Bland. I asked people to contemplate boredom as they tasted the food.

Then we did Parsley again.

Next, Jodi served us very bitter green tea. I asked that we consider self-loathing during this course.

Then we made up our plates for the main course. We were to find a place in the maze and eat slowly. I was nauseous from the start.

I ate slowly with the intention to taste every bite. The congee was difficult, the pasta a bit easier with the peas. I ate every bite.

After I finished I found Melissa and Laura. We discussed our experience with the eating meditation.

Then we returned to the dinner table, talked some more. We shared Brandy with who ever was interested and cleaned up.

Aspirations

Today and yesterday I am in a sea of emotional tastes.

These are my aspirations for the dinner tonight.

That we will have a chance to relax and enjoy.

That we will move on, within or past a boundary of taste and possibly touch that movement.

That it might be a kind of meditation.

Take your sea/place you attention on the food you are eating/label tastes as pleasant, unpleasant or neutral/ if you cannot eat it, give it away!

How can something feel so right and be so wrong?

Sunday morning: I am trudging through a miserable hangover and therefore trying to practice equanimity about the state I am in. For me this means – not fighting it, not denying it,  not wallowing in regret about it, but not making a huge deal about it. I am REALLY uncomfortable

Looking forward to the Equanimity Feast

I think it may be a bit more casual than I imagined, so if you didn’t RSVP, but would like to bring a food you have difficulty with, feel free.

I met a chef last night who might bring something and Forest said he would bring something, but I was drunk and I can’t remember what.

A definition from dictionary.com

equanimity–noun

mental or emotional stability or composure, esp. under tension or strain; calmness; equilibrium.

Origin: 1600–10; < L aequanimitās, equiv. to aequ(us) even, plain, equal + anim(us) mind, spirit, feelings + -itās -ity

Synonyms: serenity, self-possession, aplomb.

Antonyms: panic, disquiet, discomposure, agitation

equanimous – adjective

In a sentence! Please comment with more sentences.

It was difficult to remain equanimous while swallowing the raw clam at the bottom of my Bloody Mary.

“If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with”

Developing equanimity of taste

All week I have been ordering ‘Avena’ or Oatmeal. To me oatmeal is this http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oatmeal.

I have been receiving something more like porridge or Farina, very milky, already sweetened. I am starting to like it, but it has too much sugar.

Doubts:

I realize that the e mail was too long, so people did not read it. Two of my closest friends did not read it when they got it. I should have predicted this. We don’t read long e mails do we?

I have decided that the bland food will be plain millet.

I intend to taste the blandness and just sort of be there with it.

I need to buy forks.

Concerns:

Will I have to work late on Tuesday?

Will people be bored?

In Hinduism, equanimity is the concept of balance and centeredness which endures through all possible changes in circumstances.

Upekkha: Equanimity dinner update

Upekkha (equanimity) is freedom from all points of self-reference; it is indifference only to the demands of the ego-self with its craving for pleasure and position, not to the well-being of one’s fellow human beings.

My thoughts on the feast today.

I woke up feeling anxious about it. When people read the e mail maybe they do not understand what I am asking. Maybe I did not explain it clearly enough. Maybe people will be disappointed. Maybe people think they are all going to eat. Maybe I should be feeding them.

I think I will feed them and invite them to join. Why not?

The idea of having an RSVP for the dinner was based in being able to solidify an outcome, which is impossible anyway. That is the idea of the feast. To examine our expectations for something to be pleasurable and under control.

So here is a list so far of chances I have had to examine and deconstruct my expectations: I have not necessarily been “successful”, but “success” is not a factor.

The two people who have RSVP’d cannot eat most of the food becasue of dietary restrictions.

I freaked out (internally) when my friend D told me he was definitely coming and immediately tried to explain that he might not actually enjoy it or that it may not meet his expectations.

I asked L. not to bring the baby and begged her to be on-time! Ridiculous.

Thanks to the universe for allowing me to look at all this!

Equanimity Dinner:Let us unhinge our “preferences” and open to love, lust, disgust, fear, shame, persistent aromas, luxurious intoxicants and tacky outfits.

Equanimity Dinner: Potluck performance.

You are cordially invited to witness or participate in a feast and performance in The Maze at Death by Audio next Tuesday September 22nd.

The idea of equanimity is subtle and beautiful. We each carry with us so much sadness. We have expectations about how things should be, how life should feel, how it should taste. Most of the time, we want it to be delicious, but this is not reality. Developing equanimity of experience means seeing golden thread throughout the tapestry of life’s flavors.

The Equanimity Dinner will be broken into four courses of sweet, bitter, bland and miscellaneous food. Between courses, we will retire into the maze, where we’ll chew and distribute parsley. Each participating feaster will bring one dish of a food that they do not particularly enjoy. The practice of tasting things we do not find pleasurable helps us make a friend out of adversity. A dish could be grapes or pork fried rice, mashed potatoes or tomatoes – only you know what you don’t enjoy. It doesn’t have to be a traditional dinner food – variety will keep the meal texturally rich. I will be bringing pasta with sardines.

If you will join me in performing the feast ritual, please e-mail or facebook me and let me know what you will bring. I will follow up with a phone call to confirm. There is room for six diners at the feast. If you do not wish to feast, please, please come to enjoy an evening in The Maze!

Attire should be festive, but comfortable.

Details:

I 7:15: Intimate ice cream appetizer and champagne.

Parsley chew.

II 7:30: Tea and reaction to appetizers.

Parsley chew

III 8:00: Something bland.

IV 8:15: We will slowly make plates for ourselves with a bit of each main course. We will each proceed to choose a corner in the maze where we’ll perch on pillows and eat the entire meal in contemplation, actively trying to remain present through each bite and sharing our meals with any folk who may pop in.

V Feasters reunite for Brandy, ritualistic dancing and noise making. There will be many live drummers. VI Each feaster will pose for a portrait in their favorite part of the maze.

Let us unhinge our “preferences” and open to love, lust, disgust, fear, shame, persistent aromas, luxurious intoxicants and tacky outfits. Let each taste “be experienced as the consummation of the love affair between emptiness and form.” I hope to eat with you there!

unattached on four sides

I grew up in Staten Island in a house that was unattached on all sides. It was grey then, which seemed boring. It creaked all over making it impossible to sneak down the stairs at night. When you enter the house you are standing in what we call the porch. It is an entry room. I once threw up in this room sitting beside my father’s stereo.

I grew up in Staten Island in a house that was unattached on four sides. It was grey then, a good color for a house. Dependable I think in retrospect. I am fairly sure that the current color is cauliflower blue. On the left side, next to the side door lives an awkward fig tree on the left side, my father’s project. The leaves remind me of plants I have seen in Mexico.

I grew up in Staten Island in a house that is unattached on all four sides. As a child I was not adventurous. I spent time carefully crawling around craters, terribly afraid of falling. In adolescence my plump self ran after boys and starred in school plays. My hair was bushy framing a smooth, winter porcelain puffy face that quickly became splotchy after being physical. Somewhere I learned to curse less poetically than a sailor, causing me to cringe when I watch the only family video with sound we have.

I grew up in Staten Island in a grey house unattached on all four sides. The right side is the most secret side; A narrow space between it and the neighbor’s fence, touched by little daily sunlight. The grass there always feels cool on bare feet. For a few weeks every spring a row of Lilies of the Valley grow there in a patch of dirt deeply shaded by the house itself. These flowers fascinated me. I waited for them every year unaware as to whether my mother had planted them or they were perennials. The smell of the white bells is delicious giving the ride side of the house a little known mystical vibe perhaps related to the valley homeland of these Lilies.

I grew up in Staten Island in a grey house unattached on four sides; an old house with 14 steps leading to the second floor. My bedroom, the middle of three rooms on that floor had a long narrow closet. As a teenager this was the safest possible place. Dark, cool and tear soaked. I sometimes slept there engaged in useless conversations or merely breathing in the ear of a friend though the phone. This was a box in which I could unleash the agony that often ensued due to my incredible inclination towards the dramatic.

I grew up in Staten Island in a blue house unattached on all four sides. Today, accustomed to sleeping in the urban safety of an apartment, when I sleep in Staten Island, I feel the vulnerability of this house. I imagine a tornado lifting it off the ground. If my parents die, they will haunt this house. No room will be safe, especially theirs, the room to the left of my room with three large windows facing the street and an entrance to the attic through a less accepting closet, a hiding place, but not a refuge.

I grew up in Staten Island in a blue-grey house unattached on all four sides, free to flaps its arms up and down and fly away. It’s head, a triangle on top of an assortment of rectangles and squares. It’s face, neck and heart, the bedrooms, closets and bathrooms. Its’ middle, a living room with 4 entrances, a kitchen, and dining room; legs, knees and feet, a basement, kept cool by the earth, a place for laundry and storage.  The house resembles the house that children draw to represent a house. It could star in a musical or live anonymously for the rest of its’ days.

I grew up in a house on Staten Island that is unattached on all four sides. My parents still live in this house. I sleep poorly in this house, on a mattress instead of a futon, waking frequently.

I grew up in a house on Staten Island. It is unattached on all four sides. The wooden floors are hidden by thick ivory carpeting, which helps keep the house warm. My father’s stereo is in what we call the dining room, inside a tall rectangular shelf. Two glass doors that magnetically seal shut with small magnets protect the stereo system. The sound of these doors sealing and unsealing is neat and handsome. At the bottom of the shelf is a square space for records; on top are rectangles for the stereo, the CD player and on top the record player. It all makes sense.  The shelf has small wheels, but is difficult to move. If you were to move it, you would see flat impressions where the wheels dug into the carpet, making a home.

Far from Flatbush.

I saw this old R&S Strauss on a Friday evening just before it closed for the night. It was so lovely and reminded me of an older version of NYC. I was outside the United Palace Theater in Washington Heights, where I sent to see Sonic Youth.

The entire ‘Spectrum of Ecstasy’ is resting on your fingertips

The following are some quotes from Spectrum of Ecstasy: Embracing the Five Wisdom Emotions of Vajrayana Buddhism that I thought you might like.

It is worth learning to admire and enjoy the passing display of phenomena; without feeling a need to grab at them and turn them into reference points.

...intellect is a sense field. You don’t have to understand everything through that  sense field. The fundamental genius of Tantra is that the sense fields are interconnected. You can feel with your mind and think with your nose.

Simply to realise that you cannot help but be ‘trapped’ by what is, releases your capacity to embrace the energy of your own situation- and that’s called freedom.

When each moment is fresh, and undiluted by the insipid rationalisations of constipated nervousness, the simple fact of experience is there just as it is. This is both very powerful and very ordinary. That is both terribly claustrophobic and fantastically liberating.