Friday, December 5, 2008
Right Brain and EBB (Energy-Based Being)
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Energy-Based Beings? Vote Now!
Excerpt from The Marketing of Virtue:
It appeared to Todd that a necessary cultural intervention needed for the first core virtue, awareness, would be a group-endorsed philosophy which is consistent with the vision of developing individual and collective virtues. The effective cultivation of true awareness would be facilitated by the philosophical view that each and every citizen is intimately connected to the larger creative process that forms virtue. We are primarily energy-based, rather than matter-based, beings who are plugged into an energy format and flow that has been termed “spiritual” throughout the ages.
Each of us are only secondarily a particular, physical being. Our primary nature is that of spirits in union with the universal. Todd envisioned a community in which the citizens truly understood that they were of one body, not only with each other, but also with Mother Earth and with the whole universe.
The physics or metaphysics of viewing humans as being energy-based seemed consistent with the liberating concept of interdependence - a more advanced understanding of how to be human and of how to live a good life. The paradigm shift toward energy-identification and interdependence would be taught both in the regular classroom of school, as well as in the “classroom” of everyday life in a therapeutic, enlightened, community.
The following link is a continuation of thought about the energy aspect of our existence. Check it out. Parallel Universe Theory and a Spiritual, Transrational, Aspect of Self
I recently had a direct experience that related to an emerging awareness of mind(and self)-as-energy. December 4, 2008 5:04 PM: This morning, in a state between sleep and awake I observed changing patterns and colors of light in my mind. I tried to rest in the blueish purple or indigo that seems my "home" state during contemplative moments.
But the mind would not stay on a steady focus. When my watch alarm went off I saw red, settled back into blue/purple, then eventually saw more white than usual. As I drifted toward sleep, I saw dream images of white ceramic mugs with blue stripes around them. I had the distinct sense that I had just sculpted and "painted" those simple images with light (or energy) .
Experiences like this suggest that we can somehow see the energy of the mind. I suppose there could be other, more physical, contributors such as the tension in the eyelids, but I have on occasion seen the light in my mind's eye while my actual eyes were wide open.
I have also seen images (had a "vision") with my eyes wide open. One time, after meditating at a roadside rest area on the way to work, I saw a seed crossing through seasons in my mind, so vivid that I was not seeing with my regular eyes (which frightened me because I was driving at the time!).
Click onto the following link for a slightly different angle of this same story. Mind Painting, What Days May Come?
I wondered, "Would Jar participants agree with the philosophical idea that we are "energy-based beings"? Would it be endorsed by this particular group?" Vote now! By commenting. Take the leap and register with Google's blogspots, so you can become a co-creator of this blog.
The following excerpt from The Marketing of Virtue shows, in fiction, the real thought process behind Jarwritersandsearchers blog. Notice the poem, Oil, used as a rallying call for a socio/cultural paradigm shift that will require greater use of the gifts from the right brain (not replacing the gifts of the left brain, but given a more prominent role than given in the current outmoded paradigm). Here is the excerpt:
Another agenda item was a guest who would describe a program he wanted Allsberg to sponsor. Scott Quizbie was a psychologist who had interests in spiritual approaches to mental health, and in researching altered states of consciousness, such as near death experiences. Scott, like Todd, was convinced that we possess intuitive mind abilities which traditionally have been largely ignored and neglected.
Even most religions, while acknowledging the validity of revelations and the value of mystical experiences, tend to ascribe these ways of gaining knowledge or guidance to only a few gifted prophets or leaders. Each religion seems to have its amateur versions of prayer, meditation, and other spiritual practices. These toned-down practices are promoted for the average Joe, as if to say of prophetic and mystical knowledge, "Don't try this at home".
The cultural press for organization and replication tends to de-emphasize individual focus on the esoteric, for fear of too much variation and/or too much fanaticism. Just as direct democracy is messy, time consuming, and often inefficient, so is the pursuit of altered states of consciousness and spiritual exploration.
Both inside organized religion, and outside of it in the larger culture, the participants are taught to use the squelch button on the part of the mind that senses and uses the more intuitive frequencies. Adous Huxly referred to the thoroughly internalized version of this squelching as being a "reducing valve" of the mind. While that reducing valve serves a purpose, it also has significant negative side effects.
Scott valued opening up the valve a bit. He also believed that the value of "reducing the reducing valve" was not limited to gaining creative insights or special knowledge. He believed that these unique functions of the mind were part of a larger group of functions that one might call "natural intelligence".
Furthermore, he saw a connection between the emerging ecological consciousness of the green revolution and this general mode of natural intelligence. He believed that emotional intelligence is part of this general mode, as is a whole slate of right brain hemisphere skills. The "receptive mode" (Arthur Deikman) discussed in Todd's essay was either part, or all, of this domain. As regards the socio/cultural significance of such a mental mode shift, Diekman, in the '70s, predicted that we would need to shift to the receptive mode in order to fix (heal from) the many problems which modern culture would create, including that outgrowth of competition called "war".
Since that time, we have accumulated even more of an over-use of what Deikman called "the action mode", and we have accumulated considerably more problems as a result of that bias. Perhaps the most significant of those problems is global warming, which threatens everyone's life quality, if not our very survival. It has already exterminated various species of our fellow beings.
In addition to neglecting mother earth, modern man has neglected this "inner-earth" mode of intelligence so long that it has created a kind of collective mind deficit, which, in turn, depletes the wholeness and potential of the individual's mind. It is as though we have been using artificial, inorganic, forms of fertilizer on the "soil" of our minds, as well as other soil management agents such as pesticides and herbicides, until no beneficial bacteria remains.
Modern man senses the deficit, but only when it leads to failed "crops", in the form of debilitating depression, an inability to concentrate, or feeling too emotionally numb to have a meaningful relationship. Scott believed that all this has led to a need (and emerging market) for self-improvement services which develop this general mode of natural intelligence. In terms of marketing the service, he thought the term "green" would not only be trendy; it would be provocative, in the sense that no one has looked at the nature within as being related to nature outside of us.
In his field of psychology, it was long held that some clients, and some families of clients, lacked "psychological awareness", and that this lack could cause all sorts of psychological problems related to lack of "insight". Scott felt that psychological awareness would grow as the client began to see the "green" -the natural aspects of one's own self and mind.
When his time came to present these ideas to the council, Scott began by reading a poem. The name of the poem was "Oil". The poem left most of the CJs scratching their heads, but as soon as Scott explained the significance of the poem, they quickly got on board with his cultural intervention project. Oil was selected because it interfaced all four domains of left brain, right brain, technical/industrial society, and ecology.
Poetry would be main media that Scott would use in order to help develop the green mind. The natural mind uses images as symbols for values and action-paths. Just as Christ saw the merit of using parables to teach spiritual concepts, Scott saw great merit in using poetry - a right-brain activating media - as a centerpiece to the more left-brain intellectual discussions aimed at moving us toward green solutions to modern ecological and psychological problems.
The fact that poetry is unpopular in this culture only underscores its potential as a mode-shifting, paradigm-shifting, tool. It would be a new service, without much competition, and in short supply at this time. The demand would depend on whether the service itself tapped into a kind of spiritual and existential hunger in the participants. If the demand was there, Scott would be on the "ground floor" of addressing it.
The product would be called "Transform-etry", an amalgam of transformation and poetry. Poetry which opens the door to the green mind, and then helps the individual be transformed by learning to use this aspect of mind, would be the mainstay of Scott's service. Group discussions about impressions and implications of the poems would amount to a form of audience participation - an effective means of promoting the marketability of any performance art.
The brand would be called "Jar", an allusion to Wallace Steven's poem Anecdote of the Jar, in which the jar on a hill in Tennessee appears to be a metaphor of an open and receptive mind - most likely a projection of Steven's own mental state (contemplative) at the time of his writing the poem. As Scott described it, "Jar" also had a second meaning. It would jar, shake up, the minds of the participants, by means of the provocative properties of effective poetry.
Scott hoped to create a "thinking man's" (person's) version of the now-popular slam poetry, for which rap music seemed to pave the way. He was convinced that there was a market niche somewhere in the mix of rap, slam poetry, the new age movement, and the green revolution.
If you think of marketing as being the politics of helping people vote on their feet, then such speculation is not necessarily merely manipulative and superficial. It is a means to help people make decisions. Scott wants to help them decide - to vote on - learning to "green the mind, so you (they) can green the earth".
If the marketing is successful, then the average person would end up being a bit more like a poet-philosopher - a new self image trend that replaces the "I'm as dumb (and opinionated) as I wanna be" tough-guy persona that, unfortunately, seems currently in vogue. Scott felt that this populist persona had served consumerism well, but did a great disservice to humanity.
He hoped Jar would dove-tail Barack Obama's, JFK-like, somewhat intellectual, persona, which had recently gained enough favor to win the presidential election. Ironically, the populace's renewed trust in intellect and reasoning, could open up the overall willingness to explore and develop the right brain, or "green mind", which had been previously misrepresented as being anti-intellectual (In reality, the green mind is a-intellectual, and can assist intellect in coming up with creative solutions to modern problems). One of Scott's sales slogans was "Jars - welcoming the right brain to thought".
Another job for Jar would be to help people re-approach faith traditions in a more truly spiritual fashion, rather than clinging to dogma and rote rituals. One of the talking points of Jar would be to re-assess the term "supernatural" as being super-natural, rather than above nature in some dominance hierarchy sort of way.
Quantum physicists' investigation of deep, sub-atomic, nature may open a door to understanding energy (in the form of the wave characteristics of sub-atomic realities) as being at the base of material existence. And energy (or at least its purer forms) seems to match the characteristics of "things" spiritual. Most of the metaphors of spirit are dynamic, energy-like things, such as breath, fire, wind, and water.
Before there was modern physics, there was an intuitive understanding of energy and it's contribution to nature. The green mind was at work long ago. Many hundreds of years after those spiritual texts and teachings, modern science's look into the very, very (most essentially) natural - the super-natural - sees something that looks an awful (awe-full) lot like "spirit".
It was in this philosophical context that Scott read the poem Oil. In so doing, he demonstrated the product itself. The council members actually experienced something natural, something green, in each of their own minds. Below is the transformative poem which Scott read. It was written by a friend of his, and never heard in public before.
Oil
They say the pen is mightier than the sword.
Then why is the sword so ceremoniously
flashed in the state of the union speech
aired on all the major broadcasting companies at once?
Armies need fuel to advance.
The United States is now establishing military bases
in the oil-rich lands of the Middle East.
Securing oil became a matter of national security.
I heard on the radio
that there is a factory that makes oil
from organic matter, from dead animals and such.
But it is yet to be determined if
the enterprise can eliminate
an awful stench put out
that the townspeople couldn’t stomach.
The old way of making oil
requires millions of years
and countless life cycles
pressed into layers underground
like pages of an ancient book
that stores the stories of agile Val raptors
and lumbering Brontosauruses,
sagas of another world,
compressed into liquid form.
The past is translated into the movement
of modern metal beasts
that jockey into position,
fight for territory,
just as the dinosaurs once did,
hungering for the food that fueled them.
The oily remains of dinosaurs
are needed to satisfy our world’s appetite,
to keep it moving.
An Order is busy maintaining its supply
and the positioning that nations need
to maintain their armies.
If the oil factory works,
it could meet that need.
We could bring our soldiers home,
by satisfying our appetites
with a home cooked meal,
a technical innovation
as American as apple pie.
Then the soldiers would be by our sides
when we get outflanked by global warming,
another ice age hidden in oil’s compound,
an element of surprise, of change.
It’s up to us to choose -
catastrophe by continuing to blow hot air
as we wallow in sludge,
or choose to use the light approach
of sun and cell.
Either way, sooner or later,
a new world will come,
an age in which the essence of experiences
long buried and pressed,
and transformed by pressure in the poet’s brain,
will replace the dead animals’ ways
of war, and profit motive, and domination.
A new oil from an even better factory
than the one I heard about on the radio
will move us to a deeper territory.
At first, it may give off a terrible stench
that no one can stomach
(like the acrid burning of corporate headquarters
in a social revolution),
but it will move us.
We will go where the hopeful song of a
single robin satisfies our craving,
where the heart and imagination
is the only combustible engine we fuel,
powering the tanks and HumVees
of an army standing vigil
against indifference to reverence
and understanding and being.
The new soldiers’ swords will be pens and laptops.
They’ll fight with words
made of ink as dark as crude oil,
formed from reserves of unspoken epiphanies,
carried in the supply lines
of poems and novels and philosophical essays,
until the dinosaur soldiers stationed in faraway places
on the brink of destruction
come home to read a good book.
© 2006 Darrell Moneyhon
Josh Simmons agreed that Scott’s ideas resonated with the cause of Allsberg. He recalled the dream Todd mentioned several times about the big tree overshadowing an entire city, and how this image had already become folklore among the Allsberg community. It had become a meaningful icon of the challenge to develop both godliness (virtue) and to contribute to the healing of nature. But Josh was unsure what the practical implications were. He asked Scott, “What, if anything, can Allsberg Incorporated do to help you in this worthwhile project?”
Scott said, “I’m glad you asked that. I hadn’t gotten to the meat and potatoes of the project yet. I need projector equipment to present power point presentations of poems as they are being read, and to show discussion points that are part of the workshop – actually, I will call the presentations ‘searchshops’ indicating that it is an opportunity to search for truths that fit who we are and how we see life. I don’t have that equipment currently, and can’t afford it. I do have a decent laptop to work with.
I may also need someone to help me set up a web page for Jar, and to fund it if possible. The web site would announce and promote the searchshops, plus offer an on-line blog about poems that are felt to have transformative value, whether potentially transforming culture or the individual. I hope to get a buzz going on the internet about the searchshops, and to draw a larger audience. If the project in general is consistent enough with Allsberg Incorporated’s mission - and I think it is, based on my discussions with Drew and Jeremy at prison where we work – then the Jar web site could be an outreach tool for Allsberg Incorporated.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Slow Walls Tumbling, Slow Waters Engulfing
Irony of "Jar", Smelling a Skunk, Which "jar" are we using?
Allsberg Cafe
...Moon...
By the time grandma covered
the bedtime story,
the sheets felt warm,
just right for sleeping.
She ended the story
the same way she always did,
standing at the doorway,
saying, "Know how much I love you?
From here to the moon."
Years later,
when she had a stroke of genius,
at a doorway
ending the story
(this time lying on cold tile),
she said the only word
she could get out -
"moon".
Just right for living.
Looking back, hearing her last word,
he feels warm again.
© 2009 Darrell Moneyhon
I heard this story. I
identified with
it. It
haunted me, hunted me,
camouflaged as a story.
But it was a wholesome hunter,
a kind of holy ghost hunter
whose weapon of choice
is a cross
bow strung with the specter
of the unknown, yet committed to
this, this
whatever
it is. It is
a matter of hunting from a blind
for something beyond.
There is a story,
if that is all
you let it be.
It can be more
if you seek something
more, more
or less let it seek you.
This is behind the scenes stuff.
It is not the stuff of poetry.
It is step-by-step preparation,
like buckling up a boot,
like setting up a blind,
and sitting up there, waiting
until the story finally comes around,
out of the wild.
On the first day of deer season,
a young man headed
to a Pennsylvania convenient mart
early in the morning, at
four something, for something
to eat through the day
while he watched for deer.
On the way to the store
(one of those all night and all day
gas station stores), driving his vehicle
(I never heard what kind. Was it an Impala?
More likely a Cherokee
or an F-150, or an S-10; no matter,
it was the vehicle he chose,
on the path he chose.), a big buck
appeared out of nowhere
and crashed through the windshield
before the young man
had a chance
to spot him or aim or count the points.
The two of them died on that road,
leaving everyone
wondering which
was the hunter
and which the hunted?
Irony at times seems gruesome,
tempting a cruel perception
of poetic justice, like some Edgar Allen Poe
poem, in which a young man
full of dreams,
who, due
to a lust for dreams,
is impaled
by the very racks he longed for.
This is a very dark version of a very strange story.
There is another story
wrapped around the same facts,
wrapped around the driver,
and run through him,
having shattered the standard view.
It is a story of grace, of the
lithe crossing of life
paths, of sections of life
intersecting,
of the ghostly thing you look forward to,
finding you so brilliantly
that it is as if it is
the essence, the holy ghost, of yourself
finding you. Wham!
In this story, hunter and hunted are not at all
at odds, but in a sacred coming together,
out of doing what they were most called to do,
to be, to see
out from the blind.
In this story, there is no distance
between the young man, his last breath,
and the breathless anticipation of the listener
as he or she hears the story,
or sees it in the mind,
out from the blind
of mere plots plodding along
without intersecting themes.
In this story, you live like Tristen
lived in Legends of the Fall,
committing wholly to your truest path,
hunted by that holy ghost
who helps you, as the young man in the story,
“die a good death”.
© 2008 Darrell Moneyhon
Here is another poem, hot off the presses, written just today, 12/11/08. It seems to have some of the reader self-referential qualities as Being Found by Yourself... Having the reader refer to his or her own mind or own attention is a kind of Gestalt therapy technique I have started putting in the poem.
Layers, Liars, and Lairs
OJ Simpson surfaced
from his legal (and life's) inundation,
on a spot not quite beyond the shadows
of murderous doubt.
If, in fact, he did what he was accused of doing,
is who he is that act?
Is he that rage which must have overcome him?
Or that calculation which must have
possessed him as he possessed
the where-with-all to use it?
Cutting off a life brings countless tears,
ripple effects of victimization.
But the onion cut of life,
exposing a layer of rage under the calculation,
and a layer of fear (of inadequacy, lack of control,
or hurt) under that,
also brings us to tears. To think,
a man like that may have a hurt little boy
below several surfaces. Well,
it's enough to make a grown man cry;
enough to bring retribution to it's knees,
to prayers of solace and healing.
The guilt of a man is not a single dimension.
The life of a man isn't cut
and dry. It is moist with deep layers,
slippery as the weird and colorful fish
in the oceanic mind.
Oh, if in fact
he did it, he lied
while tried; the big oath,
that ogre called integrity,
broken on the stand.
Where do all the lies room and board
in this old world? In the heart
of a man and woman?
Or in hearts surfing mere surfaces,
tossed and lost at see, at the appearances
of things. Things like that over there
(it is a mere distraction, and nothing to do
with this poem); it is a lie
simply lying there to take us away
from pungent meanings that might have been
peeled out from the onion.
It is easier than crying. Sometimes
the deception is so great
that we take it as truth,
and interpret the whole poem in terms of it -
of it's apparent nature,
whatever it is, or for that matter,
what "is is".
'Home is where the heart is."
That's what they say. Wait now,
isn't the heart
where the home is? A place
that brings out whatever creation
is to be dreamed? A man can get lost
in a good book, and he is often found
in a good woman.
But if his beauty (the beauty he seeks)
is only skin deep, he is lost
in a good woman.
No feminine touch can nurture
his heart into its fullest fruition -
he is trapped, convicted
toward the lesser thing.
OJ was convicted by exoneration
from the deep ("so help me God") truth,
if, in fact, he did what he was
accused of doing.
The little boy inside
is home alone.
© 2008 Darrell Moneyhon