everyday observations

marshmallow

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So maybe pain gets a bad rap. Is that like the Alanis Morissette song where she thanks a bunch of things that don’t usually get thanked? Maybe.

I usually don’t feel much gratitude for pain. But it is such a great tool. I’ve realized that if I’m not acutely aware of pain or discomfort, it is much harder to pinpoint things that I need to work on – and there are many such things. In fact, my best hope is to seek out the negative feeling that is eluding me within an experience. Naturally most people spend their time seeking all things positive. Maybe that’s the saddest thing of all. What if we need to heighten our awareness of pain and sadness? They’re there, if you take the time to look for them. Most of the time emotions are mixed up like paint colors jumbled in a can. That’s why they’re hard to identify. That’s probably why joy is also elusive.

Now it may seem I am mixing my metaphors. Physical pain versus emotional sorrow? I suppose I have learned that there is much crossover. If you look for it, you will find a great deal of subjects and categories that in fact commingle in the human experience and soul.

Example: Many people may not think off hand that the act of eating is intertwined with the rise and fall of emotions occurring minute by minute, hour by hour. But what if I told you that not permitting yourself to feel sadness causes you to eat very differently? The food ends up being an aid for distancing yourself from this spectrum of emotions. We’d like to believe we’re the ones who have control over these feelings. Not so. They are pulling the strings. Uncomfortably good emotions must cause similar reactions as well.

Pain keeps us honest. That’s why playing the cello is such a fascinating pursuit. You get nearly instantaneous feedback on what you’re doing right or wrong. You can learn for as long as you like. As an activity, eating is not so helpful. You often don’t know you’ve done anything harmful until hours later. It takes years to find out that you have been developing a gut. So you have to dig a little deeper to connect to where the pain is. It’s a moment by moment sensitivity. That’s why I went for my emotions. They are accessible anytime you want them. Naturally most of the time it is a dark emotion that you need to befriend in some way or another, in order to stop using the food as a buffer or escape.

everyday observations

stems

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Ok, so I found a loophole or two.

And there are parallels.

There is the question of quality. Distinguishing between my passions for playing and absorbing music has to also include the quality of the music in question. I have a different soul reaction to different grades of music. I imagine there is also a difference depending on the format and instrumentation, too. Playing duos with Daniela can’t be equivalently comparable to playing Pops with Jack, nor is it the same as playing Masterworks with Andrey. They are all distinct. Maybe I have to acknowledge that somewhere along the way before I get to the stage.

A similar thing holds true for food. I may have a variety of cravings throughout a day, but are they all worthy of my energies? I must distinguish. I can’t go on autopilot. I actually have to start distinguishing between what ought to be considered my food passions and other inferior gastronomic propensities. My lower brain stem really, really doesn’t want me to bother with this. But look what happens! I need to be haughtier. Like P’Mew. Haughty. Snobby. I am for some reason resistant to do this. The reasons will become clearer after the fact, as they tend to. For now, maybe I’ll just have to stick with the theory that my lower brain faculties would like to have their way with me, and I’m going to have to call them on it.

I could extrapolate and say this theory also applies to a variety of other things – like exercise styles. I must distinguish those too.

everyday observations

smarm

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So far so good. But how to apply it to anything else? I was contemplating that last night, as I fought my typical cravings. I need to know if it can be likened. My distinctions between passions. First I was trying to decide if eating (for one) could fall under the category of a passion. It’s more of a craving, right? Is that connectable? People say they have a passion for good food or for fine wine. Maybe a passionate wine collector. Or a passionate foodie. I don’t think I’m that type. But I do think it’s possible that my passion for beautiful music is somewhere in the realm of my food craving and food fantasizing.

So the thought is that I can differentiate between the different food cravings. The salty snack craving, the sweet snack craving, the gluttonous overeating craving, even the well-balanced, healthy eating craving – assuming I have one of those. So perhaps the idea is for me to be keyed in to each kind of craving, and not to mix them up into a conglomerate need for food. Each kind is distinct, so my higher faculties will be in a position to allocate my desires for them appropriately.

hypotheses and philosophies

Smiling

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Finding a reason to teach is a lot more straightforward that a reason to perform. Of course, what would you teach if you were an unskilled, uninspired performer? They go together. I seem to forget that. And things like that. I guess I get super focused on one thing at the expense of everything else. That is my gift, as well as my curse.

I am holding on the idea that if I understand my passion, everything will fall into place. I am not normally one to analyze my passions. Or am I. I may have two opposing tendencies. They hate each other. I hate myself. I am always dealing with contradictions within myself. Thomas Moore wrote that that is in our nature. The nature of our souls. Our minds are not in favor of this. But our souls demand it, require it. That was one of the things I loved so much about his books. I haven’t read them in many years. But they remain in my being.

I have contradictions in religion, self-care, discipline, self analysis, emotionality, embracing of naiveté, etc. You name it. T Moore is okay with that. I suspect so is J Foster. Okay to the extent that you learn what happens next. When your head and your heart are at odds.

reflections within

grape

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I kind of decided enough was enough tonight. It’s not worth the pain. It’s not sensible or necessary. So then I really, seriously thought about the possibility of quitting. No more. Zip.

Then I thought, do I have a reason to be a cellist? Or to continue being one? An answer wasn’t immediately coming to mind. I guess I don’t really think deeply about that question. I just kind of do it. Maybe moreso in my old age? But I think I couldn’t even begin to address that question when I was younger and more naive. Life has given me some wherewithal to engage in productive contemplation.

So the meat of this thought process was occurring during the Brahms first piano concerto, with Grimaud and Andrey.

You see, last night’s concert found me in a different place at that moment. I was absolutely connected, in a semi state of nirvana, musically. I was in my typical state of discomfort cellistically, but I was soaking every bit of the Brahms into my pores. I don’t know if that gave me something in particular to draw on tonight. But I had been thinking this week about how I have spent much of my life as a listener to music, with the week’s program of the Brahms and the Schumann 4th Symphony as two of my favorites for cranking on the stereo. During the parts of the Brahms that the cellos rest, I was able to go into that state of immersion that I do when I listen off stage. I actually meditated to exactly that slow movement when I was in high school, during lunch period I think. I would lie down on the grass out in front with my walkman, and let Ashkenazy’s endless lines wash over me.

I wondered if the reason I am in this field is actually an extension of my love of listening to beautiful music, not really because I adore participating in its creation. This love has many physical and emotional side effects, mostly positive, but some negative, and I have frequently wondered if they are always an asset for the purpose of performing. Tonight I may have found a way through that question. It’s about passion. Finding my true passionate nature. It seems to be possible that my passion for letting music wash through me in fact touches a different part of my soul than the art of playing.

At the moment when these ideas streamed through my consciousness, something changed. It’s ironic, because the thought of quitting opened up something in myself that was trapped when I was supposedly sustaining my level of dedication, feeling I would never quit.

I have been trying to raise the bar on my overall level of well-being and happiness. Tonight was one of those nights where I felt the price was too high. The pain outweighed the pleasure. It’s possible that having now experienced the musical differentiation described here, I may find a way to live in tenuous balance with this art and craft.

everyday observations

Lintlike

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The problem is, what if I think I understand this or that religious tome, but in reality I’ve misinterpreted it. That’s the other alternative besides just pure disbelief. That it’s too dangerous to risk interpretation in the first place. Everyone thinks they’ve got it right. See what Dave says? People are more than happy to create or buy into Biblical interpretations without even reading it. It seems to me that you need to skirt the fine line between reading it as fiction and historical account. That that makes for the best interpretation. But that is just my take on it. Someone else would say you have to read it literally.

The problem is that seemingly subtle, casual distinctions in interpretation seem to lead to murder or war. We seem to have an irrepressible drive to search for deep, life or death meaning in things like this. There’s nothing that I might say that would relieve that. People have developed their belief systems from whatever resources they’ve encountered in the course of their lives. They only change slowly and with difficulty.

reflections within

Sleek

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Add new post. I can do that. Maybe that little suggestion helps alleviate writer’s block. I wish my arm didn’t hurt. It makes typing somewhat painful.

I had big plans to make a video journal entry about my recent epiphanies on cello. Or at least write about it here.

It’s hard to be shame laden. One hard thing is that you’re not only ashamed, but you feel shame about your shame. It’s a wonderful cycle. It inspires things like sarcasm. And unexpressed anger and rage.

I was thinking about Cody. Whether he would have to suffer the same mockery that I endured. That started me thinking about whether it was internal or external factors that led to my unpopularity. External – appearance, physical attributes and habits. Internal – self assurance, confidence, philosophical bent. I haven’t often thought it was internal. But maybe that’s what really carries the day.

hypotheses and philosophies

Parter

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Shouldn’t we be honing our human/animal based societal harmony? Shouldn’t we be working towards getting past our baser emotions and tendencies? Shouldn’t we be tweaking our philosophies? Maybe we are, but I’m just the last to know. Or maybe we’re limited. I have found reading and exploring the Bible to open up my mind, up to a point. But I attribute some of that to my gullibility. Not the wonderfulness of the Bible. For instance, I could pick up another religion’s book (just as people do all over the world) and most likely be equally convinced and moved by an account of its deities.

I’m glad I’ve done this “research,” though. You always wonder if the grass is greener on the other side. And I’ve kind of been bashed over the head with the higher power premise/promise by my involvement with 12 step programs. So this was my higher power of origin. My book charting out the parallels between religions kind of proves that you have to be careful about being gullible to the supernatural aspects of religions. One of the guarantees implicit in religions is that their deities and miracles are the only ones around. So they end up cancelling each other out. But worse, they cause strife, in the real world, outside their literary circle. People vehemently disagree on whose magical God is the real one. And then kill each other. And hate. It’s not a source of intelligent debate. But since it’s out there, it has to be dealt with. It has to be addressed. From what I understand, the USA is lagging behind in this whole debate. We seem to be working hard to be more scientifically illiterate and sociologically primitive than much of the world.

hypotheses and philosophies

Mousey

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Maybe I am exploring my Jewish roots, and have always wondered – as an adult – what they’re all about, because I have needed to address this debate head on. It prevails around me, in society, among co-workers, within my family. I never really understood its roots. I was raised with a certain amount of exposure and training. Just enough to give me a taste. But I guess I never took a bite.

I am fairly gullible. I have been known for that. I think I’ve even been mocked, light-heartedly, for this trait. I have chameleon-like traits. When I used to attend movies often, I would get sucked in and overtaken by the characters. It eventually made me uneasy, because I knew I really needed to be working on developing my own sense of self in order to find happiness. Movie characters are fictional, or at least are only visual representations of reality. I don’t always do a good job of distinguishing between fantasy and reality. Maybe I’m a dreamer.

So if I’m looking for a philosophy that I can truly count on, I must be prepared to use my critical eye. To use my genetically-given gifts. Maybe they aren’t God-given, after all. As easy and comforting that idea would be. The evidence is piling up in the other direction. The evidence that religion inspires mayhem, and human ingenuity creates harmony. It’s like Trump. When is enough, enough? What straw will break the back of acceptability? When does it become an extremely pervasive cult instead of something rational and harmless? I think it finally clicked with me with that recent Facebook post of the highly regarded humanist. Religion is the problem, not just the crazy fanatical zealots. The vestigial necessity for a way to make sense of the world turns out to be just a bunch of nonsense. It wasn’t our ancestors’ fault. They didn’t know any better. They were more animalistic and ritualistic.