Last night I went to a meeting of a Meet-Up group whose focus is on producing independent films. It was held at The Hilton in Times Square, where I took an elevator up to the Lobby, which was a bit of a mindfuck for me–I mean, isn’t the “lobby” supposed to be where you enter?
There were about eight of us sitting around a conference table and then the introductions began. The guy to my left was an actor and stuntman and seemed to be a member of every union out there, including the “People Who Think They’re Hot Stuff Union.” He seemed a bit like one of those guys who would have an extra bit in “The Sopranos” as Mob Guy #252 and then walk around for a few weeks thinking he’s a real gangster, instead of some shmoe from Long Island. The girl to my right was a musical theater person who was a film wannabe. There was an actress/psychic medium, another actress who was in production with her own film and a few others. I opened my mouth here and there but for the most part I was in a good state of being a Witness, just residing in awareness. When I’m in that state it doesn’t really matter what’s going on…I’m good to go.
This Meet-Up group will be sponsoring a 4-week “Villains of the Cinema” program where each week they would explore different aspects of the “villain,” from how the writer influences the actors choice, to movement of the villain, culminating in a villain costume party right around Halloween. Mr. Hot Stuff said that he didn’t respond online to that program because he didn’t feel comfortable giving out his credit card online. And here is where the magic begun…
The Meet-Up organizer, Cinti, responded to his comment by going on with a diatribe about how they have to reserve space for the program and so it is important for them to get the money upfront. Mr. Hot Stuff tried to clarify his comment, that it was about online transactions and not so much about payment upfront but Cinti seemed to have difficulty coming out of the trench she had already dug, regardless of the fact that there was no war and no need for trenches, reminding me of those four Japanese soldiers who were hiding in the woods somewhere in the Philippines and didn’t realize the war was over about thirty years earlier (http://www.damninteresting.com/?p=253). You may find this story unbelievable, that a group of people could be living under the guise of a false reality for decades; perhaps we should look in a mirror and see if their story is really so unbelievable after all. After five more minutes having what appeared to be an argument when neither party had a fundamental disagreement, we moved on to other business.
Cinti had a sheet about a fundraiser that involved turning in old phones and Gameboys and hand-held electronic gadgets that, as is the case with all electronics, is outdated and replaced by the latest “new” version within a week of release, leaving the geeks who rushed out to camp overnight and get the latest iCrap holding the iBag.
The “I am working on my own film” actress asked what the funds would be used for and after another longer-than-needed confusing interaction, it became clear that this was to help fund Cinti’s past children’s projects on which she had spent her own money. Once again it seemed that two main players were somehow fighting to come to an understanding when the only blows that needed to be given were to my penis, excited as it popped up and shouted, “CAT FIGHT!”
“I am working on my own film” girl told about a program where possible grant money was available and Cinti went on to say how she’s been there and done that and never saw a dime from those people. From the neutral corner of the Witness, I saw it as just an offering of an idea and it seemed that Cinti’s frustration with the world of film had her coming out brawling again.
Now let me be clear, I think Cinti is a nice enough girl. I am not trying to put her down and make fun of her (I prefer to let people do that themselves.) It would have been easy for me to come in and mediate, “I think what she is saying is…” but I was buzzing nicely as the Witness and didn’t want to fuck that up. What became very clear to me is that just about everyone is walking around wearing their own shit-colored glasses and they will see the world tinted their own shade of shit regardless of whatever is going around them.
I am guilty of this as well. My experience and study has me concluded that government is innately untrustworthy and needs to be constantly watched and beaten back into submission by an aware We The People. This is a view that was shared by our Founding Fathers as well but I am called a “conspiracy theorist” when what others see as a hard-working government worker who has a different opinion than me, I see as a politician who is full of shit and manipulating the people.
When I read David Rockefeller quoted from a Bilderberg meeting in Baden-Baden, Germany in 1991 say, “We are grateful to the Washington Post, The New York Times, Time Magazine and other great publications whose directors have attended our meetings and respected their promises of discretion for almost forty years. It would have been impossible for us to develop our plan for the world if we had been subjected to the lights of publicity during those years. But, the world is now more sophisticated and prepared to march towards a world government. The supranational sovereignty of an intellectual elite and world bankers is surely preferable to the national auto-determination practiced in past centuries,” others with a more open mind tell me, “There’s two sides to every story,” and in my limited world-view I just see him as manipulative, New World Order scum and the media as complete sell-outs who, with few exceptions, have been so for decades.
And when I read an article during the John “Surfer Boy” Kerry campaign for president and hear him say how he will open up the borders to Canada so Americans can have access to cheap medicine–knowing that his top campaign contributors were pharmaceutical companies–while others saw him as the answer to all our Bushian woes, I saw him as a lying sack of New World Order shit who was going to take a dive for the candidate the elite’s chose at the last Bilderberg meeting to step up to be head puppet. Listening to endless debates and commentaries about two puppets on strings is about as wasteful as ordering a Super-Duper Big Gulp at 7/11 and getting brain freeze after a few gulps and having to dump out the rest.
The only puppet that I care to listen to is Puppetji on YouTube and although like our presidents and most politicians he is both mindless and heartless, the puppetmaster pulling his strings, or more accurately, has his hand up Puppetji’s synthetic ass, is dispensing Wisdom and not manipulation. Familiar with the rituals the “Skull and Bones” members had to go through at Yale, a group who boasts members such as George W. Bush, John Kerry, Bill Clinton and George Bush Sr. to name just three, apparently Puppetji is not the only puppet to have things shoved in his ass. [As a side note, I have enjoyed watching Kermit the Frog's reaction to "Two Girls 1 Cup" on YouTube and then the follow-up to this as he shows Rowlf the Dog the video. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nOn1htjSZic and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggaWaK5d23Y (dis)respectully.]
Being a natural medicine man, when I see a news report about how mercury-containing vaccines “may help and not harm kids” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vZArebYZzdc), while others see this as “fair and balanced” reporting, I see it as a lying pharmaceutical company speaking through a bought-out and controlled media, designed to put the few Americans who aren’t completely brain-dead from decades of drinking fluoride-poisoned water back to beddy-bye. “There are always two sides to a story.” Uh, yeah, one side being true and the other side total bullshit propaganda.
I have been thinking about walking with a cap and sunglasses and headphones on even if they’re not hooked up to any music, as I am getting a little overwhelmed by the backlog of material that I have to transfer from my head through my fingers to the computer, and want to avoid all interaction for a bit until I’m at least up to the 1990s. But, woe is me, I can’t walk a friggin’ block without some drama finding me.
At the Rawspirit Festival a few weeks back I made a new friend, Jan (pronounced “Yan” because while those Nazi fucks are good at killing Jews and building cars, they don’t know shit about how to name their Hitler youth so that any good-blooded American can pronounce it) told me, “You know, you are the one who brings the drama into your life.” I said, “No shit, bitch. Next time I want a five-and-dime reading I’ll throw a rock and wherever it lands I will go and find one of the $5 fake psychics that are on every street corner of New York City (hopefully the rock will have hit her in the third eye!)”
I do manifest drama. The thing that people don’t seem to get is my goal in life is not to have my days filled with all the empty moments that end up on the cutting room floor, such as brushing your teeth and showering (unless you can show a little side-breast, in which case that is acceptable), and walking to work with your head down thereby interacting with no one.
Because I wear drama-colored glasses, the cutting-room floor is completely devoid of film, so that even those universally boring events that I mentioned above have pizazz: me brushing my teeth and then noticing that the toothbrush in my mouth is the same one I had scrubbed the toilet with the night before…taking a shower and realizing that while I generally find a side-breast shot very sexy, seeing it on me makes me wonder what the hell a pair of breasts are doing on my chest and if I would be considered a pervert if I were to give myself a pearl necklace…and when I walk to work, or just walk–as who are we kidding, I rarely work–if there isn’t a dog dogging me or a crack addict showing me his crack or a fruit stand guy being fruity or a businessman–I don’t know what the hell they do–then my day feels like a movie that is so sucky that despite your cheap ass refusing to leave after paying $11.50 for it, you’re constantly thinking, “Please, someone shout ‘FIRE’ and give me an excuse to get the fuck out of here and spare two hours of my life that I could instead use to watch reruns of ‘Dancing With The Stars’!”
Today I was walking with my dog, as I’m prone to do, and we passed by another dog and the other dog initiated a growl and barkfest and my lovable bitch jumped in the melee. Because I am one of the rare birds that set boundaries for his dog, I told her to sit down and shut the fuck up. And because of countless beatings, she did. The other woman who was “in charge” (not really) of the other dog did absolutely nothing but hold her dog on the end of the tightly-pulled leash.
I have learned from my dealings around dog runs and parks that people can be very sensitive when you give them advice about their dogs. Often this is because what most people pretend is “advice” is really judgement, as in, “Your dog is constantly humping other dogs. Maybe if you took your nose out of your newspaper and had a fuckin’ clue you would stop him from doing that.”
I, too, don’t really care for people to stick their noses into my business. “Your dog looks a little thin, no?” “Fuck off.” “You might want to teach your dog to–” “You might want to fuck off.” “Do you have the time?” “Fuck off.” It is probably because most of us see our dogs, our children, our friends, as if they are a reflection of us and any societal shortcomings they may exhibit means we’re a failure, as well as the fact that if you answer “Your dog just bit a chunk out of my dog” with “Yeah, isn’t she a monster!” you’d probably be locked up, drugged out and forgotten like the rest of the people us “good Christians” lock up and throw away the key.
Now I do dog training so I have experience in dealing with dogs so you would think that would be a free pass to offer my thoughts, no? Well, it seems one has to remove their shit-colored earplugs first or else they will only hear through their insecurities–regardless of what a good deal the matching shit-colored glasses and earplugs were on eBay (“Save shipping–buy them both together!”)
Now I know my dog can be a pain in the ass. She can also be the sweetest little magpie around. But when she is a bitch, I do my best to set boundaries for her and not justify her shitty behavior. I don’t make up stories like, “Oh, that is because she was abandoned as a puppy and so now she craps on everyone’s shoes.” I do like storytelling but not fantasy that is played off as non-fiction.
Me and the other caretaker separated our dogs, not that they really had a good jaw on each other. I was glad that the woman didn’t just bolt away like most dog caretakers tend to do. I told her, “I’m a dog trainer,” (that is not really Who I Am but I didn’t feel like being so linguistically-correct and decided to use common “I Am what I do” language.) “Can I share a few thoughts with you?” She seemed amenable to the idea but as you will see, my beloved readers, amenability can turn to fuckyouability at the drop of a hat, perhaps the main reason I rarely wear hats.
It is my philosophy that it is not one dog’s–or really a person’s–”fault” in any problem situation, that there is something beyond the individual, we can call it “The Relationship,” and it is that that is not functioning how we would like it to. By taking this view, we shift the focus to this created being called “The Relationship” and how we can help that be the optimal being it can be and not on whose dog initiated the growl or what person said that you should have called her earlier and feeling the freedom pinch you call her a bitch and say your phone was having trouble connecting and why doesn’t she just shut her pie-hole!
I started by telling her that it is not any dog’s “fault,” that in fact, her dog was behaving perfectly–perhaps protecting her little pack consisting of the dog and her human. I went on to say that what we can do is modify behavior by communicating clearly to our dog what is acceptable to us and what isn’t.
What is of primary importance for the relationship to be functional is for the human to step up and fully take on the role of the Alpha dog. So when my dog goes all “West Side Story” on me and starts her “He killed your brother!” routine, I show her through energy and clear communication that I am the gang leader and if we decide to go out there and kick some Jet ass, it will be me who makes the call. “COOL!” “GO!” CRAZY!”
What I find typical when I talk to humans about their dogs behaving in ways that could use a swift kick to the yarbles is two things: (1) They become storytellers, and (2) They don’t understand that they can modify the questionable behavior and it is their responsibility to make that happen.
The story: “Ever since our other dog, Trixie, died she has been a little different.”
Me: “Well, I can imagine Trixie would be different; I would imagine she eats a lot less and smells a little worse. That is perfectly understandable. But now it is up to you to step up as the Alpha dog and let your dog who still has a pulse know what is acceptable behavior and what is not by clear communication.”
Again, playing the “These things randomly happen and I am a victim of life” card: “She doesn’t do this with every dog. She was just playing with a few dogs earlier.”
Me: “We can never fully understand why they react in certain ways with certain dogs. Perhaps they are being protective. Perhaps they are attempting to establish who is the Alpha out of the two of them. This may always appear. All we can do is deal with the specific behavior we see and do our best to modify it through clear communication and leadership.”
I am going to give you the crib notes version of the dialogue, as you, my loyal readers, know I have a tendency to go on for pages on pages and really offer nothing new. She held onto her story and continued to repeat the same story about how it happens randomly and she has no control over when it will happen and how her other dog died and blah, blah, blah. I like analogies and similes and so I stepped it up:
Me: “If you had a daughter and someone gave her a lollypop and she threw it in their face–it may be acceptable for her to say, “No, thank you,” but a parent wouldn’t consider it acceptable behavior to throw the lollypop in the offerer’s face, would they?”
Her: “I’ve seen a lot of parents that would.”
Me: (A chance to connect)“But if you were the parent, would you accept this behavior?”
Her: “No.”
Me: “And yet we give our dogs a free pass to behave however they want, regardless of whether it is in a manner that is unacceptable to us.”
Then she went into Common Response #2 big time…
Her: “You’re saying I’m responsible.”
I wanted to make it clear that what I meant by “responsible” wasn’t “to blame” but “in charge.” A part of me also wasn’t sure whether she was saying, “You’re assuming I’m a responsible dog caretaker. I’m not.”
Me: “Yes. It is up to the human to be the leader, to set clear boundaries and communicate clearly what is acceptable in our dogs and what isn’t.”
Her: (Justification for laziness) She’s seven years old now.” (the implication being “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”)
Me: “I have worked with old dogs, young dogs, aggressive dogs, dogs that just needed a minor bit of leadership applied to them. It is my experience that you can, in fact, teach an old dog new tricks.”
I was aware that her body language was saying, “If I had a knife and the O.J. defense team I would stab your hippie ass right here and now.” It is important in communication to touch base at times to make sure that what you think you’re communicating is being received in the same way. For instance, one time I was sitting opposite my mother at breakfast and asked her to pass the salt. I said, “Mom, do you mind repeating back what you heard me just say now?” She said, “You said, ‘Pass the fuckin’ salt like a good slave, you fat stupid bitch!” I said, “Thanks, just wanted to make sure I was understood clearly.”
Me: “It seems like you are taking offense to what I am saying, as if you are seeing it as a judgment or personal attack on you.”
Her: “Yes, I am. You’re telling me that I’m responsible.”
Me: “I’m telling you that you’re irresponsible.” (okay, I didn’t say this.) “I wasn’t blaming you or your dog for anything.” (here’s where I might have lost my cool) “I charge $100 an hour for training and I was offering you my time and advice here for free.”
She responded that she didn’t have time and, perhaps me falling short of the true goal in any communication, to come closer to a genuine human connection and understanding, I said, “Okay” and turned and left.
I did my best to be explicitly clear that no one was to blame–neither her nor her dog–only that communication was not being presented in a clear manner to modify dog behavior, that by her standing like a log while her dog acted very unlady-like that she was in fact reinforcing the behavior that everyone would be happier to see changed. But unless someone removes their shit-colored glasses that, in this case, sees the world as a competition instead of a cooperation, it doesn’t matter “how” you say something, you’ll still end up looking shitty to them.
I was frustrated with myself for not just avoiding the situation altogether and after the initial dog barking to just keep walking and avoid having to spend an hour reflecting and sharing the Wisdom of the Universe which is shared to me through drama. Maybe that was me just not wanting to take “responsibility.” Maybe I am wearing shit-colored glasses and when the Universe asks me to “Pass the salt,” I hear her saying, “I’m going to mess with you until you lose your fuckin’ mind!” Maybe she isn’t such a bitch after all. Maybe it’s time I change my own glasses.
REFLECTION:
(1) Can you see any common patterns to what seems to irritate you? For example, “People are always telling me what to do,” or “I don’t like when people give me advice and judge me.” Question if your frustration comes from their words or, digging a little deeper, if it comes from another source altogether. Even if it is something like, “I don’t like people insulting my appearance,” which most people would think a fair thing to say, what is it beyond that that is making it difficult for you to keep your peace of mind? Do you actually feel insecure about your appearance? Why? Why do you need this other’s approval to remain in peace? Why should what they say matter to you?
I believe everyone, even someone who has murdered their parents, ultimately wants their parents proud of them (from Heaven: “Son, I’m proud how you stood up like a man and killed me.”) Nothing wrong with that. If your parents view you as a reflection of their self-worth and value in society and every time they see you, in example, they comment on your long hair and question why you don’t cut it, you can kick your mother in the cunt like I choose to do or you can explore why such seemingly stupid comments annoy you to the hilt. The first response feels pretty good at first but leaves you feeling unsatisfied afterwards (“The bitch is still nagging.”) The second response may result in some initial frustration but can lead to a better understanding of Who You Are, and as the meditation teacher Adyashanti says, this is the only question really worth exploring.
MEDITATION:
(1) Imagine someone you don’t know passing you on the sidewalk and saying something jerky like, “You look ugly in that dress.” Instead of doing the typical knee-jerk reaction, “Fuck you, asshole!” imagine yourself totally unaffected by his comment and actually smiling inside at the silliness of this play we call life. We can look at the play as a drama or a comedy; the choice is ours. If you are a guy, you might question why you were wearing a dress in the first place.
(2) Imagine someone who you know dearly, such as a good friend or a family member, and have them say something to you that tends to get your goat (you really shouldn’t be keeping goats in a small apartment without grass but that is a discussion for another time.) Rather than reacting in the typical manner with a comment like, “I hate you, Dad, and wish you jerked-off the night you conceived me instead of sticking it to Mom!” imagine yourself really calm and desiring a true understanding–not just of the other…but of yourself. Ask them why they said what they said and allow them to answer. See if you can hear their answers as coming from a deeper place inside of them. At first they may respond, “Because I think you look less attractive with long, wild hair.” Let that morph to, “Because I feel embarrassed walking with a dirty hippie.” And soon it may become, “I am concerned what people think of me” and then even, “My self-worth seems to be dependent on how others view me. Maybe this came from growing up and being judged by my appearance. It seems that I am still holding onto this self-judgment and projecting it onto you.” If you can honor them in your imagination enough to listen to the truth beyond the surface, can you see how your shit-colored glasses may change their tint? So who is responsible for seeing the world as you do? Ultimately it would be nice to take these meditations out of the imagination and into the physical world. But we all know what happens:
Son: “Hey Mom.”
Mom: “Are you going to tie up that mess of hair on top of your head?”
Son: “Fuck off.”
I have one friend who finds another friend irritating. He could tell me a story like, “The other day Bob came up to me and said, ‘Hey, how are you doing?’ I mean, what the fuck–he knows I lost my job! That prick just wanted to rub it in!” I told him that he seems to be annoyed with Bob regardless of what Bob does or says and if Bob said, “I love you and here is $1000 for you to spend however you want with no strings attached,” he would probably come back with, “He knows I hate spending money so that prick gives me money so I have to go out and do what he knows I hate!”
(3) Imagine yourself in an argument and then switch roles, you playing the person you are arguing with and them playing you. See if you can see the argument from their perspective and understand–even if you don’t agree–where they are coming from. Another variation of this meditation is to imagine yourself in the difficult situation as a great Master, such as Buddha or Jesus or Osho and observe how you react.
I did this once reflecting on an argument I had with a close friend of mine at a sushi restaurant. I imagined going out for a breath of air and The Buddha inhabiting my body and coming back to the table. Strangely, The Buddha seemed not to have the need to interrupt or correct or add his two cents in, regardless how “wrong” or “idiotic” my friend’s argument seemed to be. He allowed the other to speak and when it came time to leave he had not really said or added anything to the conversation. But he was in no rush. He thought, “Perhaps next time the right opportunity will come to speak. And if not, perhaps the time after. There is no rush.” I felt I learned a lot by The Buddha renting my space, so to speak. Although in my imagination that fat bastard ate like a horse and I was left with a bill that would send me back to the West Side Highway sucking dick for rent money.
A useful question could be: How much is the Wisdom teachings worth to you and what are you willing to do to gain access to them? For most of us the initiation into the classroom does not involve swallowing jism but only swallowing our pride, for the moment, and then finding out that we will have more pride in ourselves when we release all the fears that keep us separated from our brothers and sisters.
(4) Imagine that the Universe loves you so much that she is presenting all your close friends and family and strangers and difficult situations involving these people to you in order to share with you her deep Wisdom teachings. Thank the Universe for loving you so much to give you these gifts in the form of her beautiful messengers.
The ninth saying of The Gospel of Thomas is as follows:
Jesus said: The mote that is in thy brothers eye thou seest, but the beam that is thine eye thou seest not. When thou castest the beam out of thine eye, then thou wilt see clearly to cast the mote out of thy brothers eye.
All he was saying with all those “thous” and “thines” was:
“Take off your shit-colored glasses and you will see how beautiful your brother really is.”